Who's It?

Tavis tagged me with this meme. These are quotes from some of my favorite movies, of no particular time period. I tried to go subtle and even obscure with a couple, but in the age of Google there's no such thing as "hard to find."

1. "Fuck you, that's my name. And your name is you're wanting." Tavis

2. "We're about bad enough to deserve each other." Miller's Crossing

3. "You don't think it's too subtle, Marty? You don't think people could drive by and not see the sign?" Levi

4. "You were born to be murdered." The Third Man

5. "That's the way it crumbles... cookie-wise." Levi

6. "I don't know, I'm making this up as I go." Tavis

7. "You stay alive, no matters what occurs! I will find you." The Last of the Mohicans

8. "Don't you want to lick it?" Body Heat

9. "Do you know who the fuck I am?!" The Usual Suspects

10. "Dear Buddha, please bring me a pony and a plastic rocket." Serenity

11. "I like my nose. I like breathing through it." Tavis

12. "I feel like a hundred bucks." Caddyshack

13. "You're the vulgarian, you fuck!" Tavis

14. "You work for the American Dream. You don't steal it." A Simple Plan

15. "I'm your boyfriend now!" The Exorcist

I guess I'm tagging Levi.

The Movie Club Redux, Part 21: The Good Outweighs the Bad

TO: Boltron, Lin, Levi
FROM: Tavis
RE: Bucket of Norbit

I often find a week after the Academy Awards I have difficulty remembering what actually won. It's not that my mental reflexes have slowed down—no, that's not it at all!—but I think it has more to do with selective attention, and only retaining that which is important. If you want to attempt to make a strong case for the importance of awards shows, go ahead—I'll be over here gazing at my navel. Though I will admit that sometimes I can be a sucker for an entertaining quip or heart-felt thanks from the podium. (I thought this recent acceptance speech from Daniel Day-Lewis was refreshingly sincere and well-spoken.)

So, what will remain? Watching Richard Roeper and Michael Philips' "worst of" list on At the Movies, I realized that maybe this is the first year in recent memory where the best films out-weigh the "bottom of the Bucket List" of crap-made films. (I shouldn't make such a dig at The Bucket List, I haven't seen it—and most likely won't…ever.) For every Norbit and Wild Hogs, there was a There Will Be Blood or No Country for Old Men. Where there was Good Luck Chuck, we also had Michael Clayton. And if it weren't for Judd Apatow and Seth Rogen I probably wouldn't have laughed as hard as I did. And when films like Once and Ratatouille are released in the same year it just makes you smile.

I would have been happy if only a handful of the best films this year had been released—it was almost too much of a good thing—I still have more to see! I hope 2007 doesn't make 2008 look bad by comparison, but I think it will be difficult to match the quality we saw this past year.

Thanks to Boltron for hosting this Movie Club discussion.

The Movie Club Redux, Part 20: A Kick-Start Year

TO: Boltron, Levi, Tavis
FROM: Lin
RE: Vegas whores and Eszterhas

What a strange and anticlimactic year-end round-up this is turning out to be! Not ours, of course, which is no end of awesome and climaxes as often as a Vegas whore in a Joe Eszterhas movie. But the larger year-end round-up, the one that's supposed to end with the Oscars. The Globes came and went with hardly more fanfare than a repeat of last night's football scores (although that was okay with me, as I was getting sick of reporters saying that this was the "debaucherous" awards ceremony where the stars let loose on national television, since that hasn't happened for years). And if the Oscars follow suit, it might almost seem, at least for one season, that the entertainment industry isn't the shining light of Western civilization, the pinnacle of man's achievement in its ever-tireless crusade to depict itself to itself and then pat itself on the back for its courage and verisimilitude.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I do have money riding on the result, but just the result, not what anyone's going to wear or which suspiciously-single star will show up with his mom. So I could still come out ahead, if it weren't for one thing: As we've been discussing (and as the rest of the year's releases make their way down the dusty trail to Portland cinemas), it was a pretty good year. Of recent years, I'd really like to see this particular slate of movies get some public recognition. There's quite a handful of unusual suspects that I'd like to see on the red carpet.

Furthermore, the Oscars have always done a good job (not surprisingly) of building narrative into their awards show. It feels like something historical, but also as if it's happening before your eyes. Movies are described as "gathering momentum" during the evening, as if all the votes were being cast during the commercial breaks. Without the ceremony, the impression one could be left with is that this is in fact not significantly different than watching Salesman Of the Year honors at a used car lot. And as for the mythical box-office bump that winning Oscars supposedly gives a movie, how likely is that to happen if we don't get to see the cast in their finery? I even imagine many people being perplexed as to why writers, of all people, would have the power to shut down the Oscars (the Oscars aren't "written," are they?).

So maybe it's time to jostle things up a bit. Maybe Hollywood's due for a little outside-the-box thinking about their product and its perception in the global marketplace. Awards Season is a bedrock of maintaining the Hollywood brand, so without it, how do you maintain movies' "importance" in the public consciousness? Are the films themselves enough of an incentive? Oddly enough, this year I think they were (though box office receipts won't back me up on that, but they rarely back up any of my arguments, so there you go).

The other topics, in brief: Why isn't a screenplay judged in its original form rather than the finished product? That's a really interesting question because it is the only part of the film that CAN be judged on its own. So, maybe that's why. This has always perplexed me: how on earth do you determine "Best Director?" How does a viewer have any idea what went into the editing? Cinematography, maybe a little easier, but what if the art direction is no good and it looks like it was shot poorly? Or if somebody did an amazing job with make-up and it was shot wrong so it looks glaring and obvious? How do you determine the quality of a performance, which has been cut up into a million pieces and put back together again? I think everybody agrees that we estimate as best we can where one person's job ends and another's begins, and hopefully it's close to right. So if the screenwriters were to be judged based on their work APART from the finished product, it would be like cheating. You dirty, dirty cheaters.

Sma-smortion: Politics continue to be the great bogeyman of American Cinema, so of course we don't talk about it, because we're not supposed to. It's entertainment! Remember?? Granted, this is coming from someone who made a no-budget, starless, political film this year that next-to-no-one is clamoring to see. But it's true: movies about politics (much like movies about women or Black people or heaven forbid, Asians) are doomed from the start by a neat trick of self-fulfilling prohpecy. The studios say that "nobody wants to see a film about (politics, women, the disabled, the poor; pick one)," so when they decide to give it a whirl, they very quickly get scared and render it as bland and ineffective as possible, then half-heartedly release it into theaters (see Rendition, Lions for Lambs), only to watch it tank (surprising no one, since they're barely supported it to begin with and, worse yet, the movies invariably look boring), allowing the studios to come back and say, "See, nobody wants to see stuff like that." So, you need something like Knocked Up to come along and do well by deliberately avoiding the subject, thus re-affirming the stereotype.

That said, I found it weird for people to be holding that topic in that movie up to such a high standard. It didn't really surprise me, because movies, especially comedies, dart around touchy issues like that all the time. Maybe this one was just too blatant. But in the current era of deliberately " anti-P.C." comedies (see I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry, Wild Hogs, or any of the recent spate of gay-panic movies), I'm not sure where you start drawing the line in calling this or that movie "socially irresponsible." Or, for that matter, "unrealistic." So, I say Bravo, Boltron, for taking these movies to task for their social myopia. NOW DO IT MORE OFTEN! As we established earlier, with the "mindless entertainment" conversation, being more believable or socially responsible in your storytelling does not HAVE to make your movie any less entertaining, and to suggest otherwise is just plain old-fashioned god-damned lazy.

As for favorite cinematic moment, there were quite a few (and there's still that LOOOONG list of ones I need to see, made longer by you fellas' recommendations). There were many shots in Climates that broke my heart, little turns of the head, a scene of snow falling (trust me, in context, devastating), watching horrible, final conclusions cross the characters' eyes. There's a scene in I Don't Want To Sleep Alone, a movie I was having trouble following, due to a difficulty in telling a couple of the characters apart (turns out they were played by the same guy, so not entirely my fault), and then all of a sudden somebody pulls out a rusty tin can lid and is about to cut open another character's throat and I realized, "Oh my god, that's what I've been watching for the last two hours!" So, in a single shot, a movie that I had barely comprehended came into crystal clear focus and then, in the next and final shot, brought me to tears. That counts.

But I think I would have to say, if I were to pick just one, it might have to be a scene in The Assassination of Jesse James... About two-thirds of the way through the movie, there's an incredibly tense dinner scene with Brad Pitt as Jesse and Casey Affleck as Robert Ford and the brilliant Sam Rockwell as his asshole brother Charley and a couple other lookers-on. Jesse's clearly gone around the bend into Crazy Town and Charley, to protect himself, is egging Jesse on with stories about his brother's obsession with "The James Boys." Bob's trying not to be taken in, but Jesse's staring hard at him and isn't gonna let it go. So Bob relents and starts talking about the similarities he and Jesse share (being the youngest of three brothers, being the same height, having brown eyes) and the camera slowly pushes in to a close-up as Bob gets lost in his story, his voice cracking and slipping with adolescent enthusiasm, and it's the moment when you in the audience realize that this guy's fucked. Sure, he developed an unhealthy case of idol-worship for the absolute LAST person to deserve it (a one-off, narcissistic train robber and murderer), but more importantly, there is a look of such pure innocence on Casey Affleck's face that you know, by the time this movie's over, is gonna get beaten down and trammeled into the dust. And this is the part I love: he finishes his story and the camera doesn't move; there's no cut. You have to sit with that self-satisfied smile in front of you, because it is the last time you'll see the this man anywhere near happy, at least until the man at the other end of the table, mocking him with his silence, is dead. It is as fine an example of tipping over the razor's edge of tragedy, of that moment when you realize simultaneously what is so damned important to this character and why it will be the end of him, that you could ask for.

And in this age of rapid cuts and swinging camera movements, I go back to that as an example of the power of holding still, of NOT cutting. Those moments will only increase in power as all the other edits and camera moves of our lives become faster and faster.

So, I maintain that many things were begun this year. Careers were renewed (easily the best work from the Coens and Tim Burton in a long time), reputations for longevity were established (I, for one, have no problem with the canonization of Cate Blanchett and Philip Seymour Hoffman), and younger directors went in new directions (Wes and P.T. Anderson, Todd Haynes, Tamara Jenkins, Noah Baumbach). I think it'll be a year that people, viewers and critics, will come back to. It doesn't feel like a culmination year, like '39, but a kick-start, like '59, and I look forward to seeing where all this restlessness leads.

The Movie Club Redux, Part 19: Wrap It Up

TO: Lin, Levi, Tavis
FROM: Boltron
RE: Winding down...

I'm pleased to announce that Tavis was so inspired by our faux Movie Club that he started his own blog! And he has the just-announced nominees for the WGA Awards posted. I don't want to list all of them here (he's just a little click away, after all), but the ones that are most relevant to me are:

Original Screenplay:

JUNO, Written by Diablo Cody
MICHAEL CLAYTON, Written by Tony Gilroy
THE SAVAGES, Written by Tamara Jenkins
KNOCKED UP, Written by Judd Apatow
LARS AND THE REAL GIRL, Written by Nancy Oliver

You can imagine my joy at Gilroy's nomination, as well as my dismay at the Diablo Cody nod, although it makes sense — strong voices in original screenplays sure are a rarity, and what else were they gonna nominate, Superbad? Come to think of it, I liked that script MUCH better than Knocked Up, since as I've complained elsewhere, the film had a weak structure and felt mostly improvised. (Tavis, if you can find the script online, I'd be curious to compare and see how much of what made it to film was actually written, and if the screenplay had a better structure that was tossed aside during filming in favor of the Riff-O-Rama approach.)

Bummer they neglected Ratatouille. Maybe the majority of screenwriters think animated characters just make up their own stories and dialogue without help from puny humans like Brad Bird.

Well, guys, while we chew on that for a bit, it's been a week and it looks like it's about time to bring down the curtain on our Movie Club Redux.

This is the most blogging fun I've had since I started this blog. I've gone back and forth many times, as any cursory inspection can tell — posting short, funny news items for a while, then trying for "Dear Diary" pieces about works in progress, and ultimately neglecting it altogether for long stretches before getting so riled up about some pointless crap that I have to rant about it. I've often wondered why I even keep the damn thing going — but this Club has been the best experience so far, and kind of makes me wish it would go on forever.

Come play with me, Clubbers. Come play with me... forever!!!

I confess, I'm a tad disappointed that the upcoming Indy film created more excitement than the sma-smortion "issue." Next year, if we reconvene, I'll be sure to invite some participants of the fairer sex and see if we can get a good, hearty debate going on how popular entertainment tramples women's reproductive rights.

Before we wrap it up, however, I want to extend my thanks to each of you, and give you each a chance for a few last words before we cut to black.

I'll start you off with a final question: what was your single favorite cinematic moment of the entire year?

I'll even offer my own, just to get it out of the way: Anton Ego taking a bite of "peasant's food" in Ratatouille and being transported back to his childhood. That was a truly sublime moment, and one that I don't think a live-action film could have pulled off remotely as well.

Gentlemen, take it away!

The Movie Club Redux, Part 18: Sexiest Man Alive?

TO: Tavis, Levi, Lin
FROM: Boltron
RE: Resignation

Tavis, I completely agree with you about Michael Clayton. I read the Newmarket published screenplay (love that series!) and it was a wonderful read from front to back, much like a perfect novella in screenplay format.

Sadly, I don't think most screenplays read nearly that well. And, in fact, screenplays can be a chore to read. Shane Black may have pumped up Lethal Weapon with a bit of style and voice, but in general those are traits best rewarded in prose, not screenwriting. Especially when the first screenwriter so rarely ends up being the last (or, in the blockbuster realm, even among the last twenty) to work on the script.

This is why I've begun to feel that writers with a distinctive Voice ought to pursue prose over screenwriting. In fact, if some neophyte were to ask me how to "make it" as a screenwriter (like I'd know), I would say, "Write a novel and sell it." Which is laughable, I'm sure, to the millions of wanna-be novelists compiling mountains of rejection slips — but as someone who works for a big online bookseller, I can attest that many, many, MANY novels are published every year (far more than films are produced), and most of them really suck.

How much do they suck? We get boxes of free advanced reader copies every single week. And the books just sit there.

They're free and nobody wants them. Any wonder the buying public doesn't feel like plunking down $25 for the hardcover?

The ones that work, however, work chiefly because the author's Voice is strong and irresistible. If you can compose intelligible sentences, write strong characters and snappy dialogue, and keep your plot on the rails — and if you can achieve a unique, compelling Voice — I'm confident you can get your novel published.

And then sell the movie rights. And then write the screenplay. And, presto! There's your new screenwriting career. Congratulations.

Gentlemen, this weekend I did the truly unthinkable: I broke down and read the script for Juno.

(No, I did not pay $10 to see it in the theater. And having read the script, I'm ever so thankful I didn't.)

I had much the same reaction that Tavis did: not brilliant (though we already knew that), but not
terrible. Really, just sort of blah. There wasn't much in the way of conflict (or humor, I thought),
and the quirky-cool dialogue continued to annoy me throughout — but it's true, the first ten
minutes are the worst, and it settles down after that.

It did get me thinking about my own scripts. There is a simplicity to the storyline and streamlined plotting that runs in stark contrast to my work, where the narrative is too often cluttered and antic. I confess, I've been terrified to slow down and just let the characters and story breathe, for fear that if I stop spinning and spinning, the plates will come clattering down around me. Now I'm thinking very differently.

But the script for Juno also possesses a clarity of emotion. This may be its greatest strength in the eyes of the moviegoing public and, perhaps, WGA voters. It doesn't aim for greatness, just small observation, which it does well — I just wish what it was observing felt more genuine to me. It aims to tug the heartstrings just a tad, and that's all it does, and it works on that level.

Diablo Cody's writing is still vastly overrated, I feel — especially compared to what Tony Gilroy does with Michael Clayton — but not worth the venom I've injected into it.

And with that, I hereby resign as President and Dictator-for-Life of the He-Man Diablo Cody Haters Club.

The Movie Club Redux, Part 17: Lethal Writing

TO: Boltron, Levi, Lin
FROM: Tavis
RE: Riggs!!!!!!!

The WGA announces their nominations tomorrow. When it comes to screenplay awards I can't help but wonder if the people voting have actually read the scripts (with the WGA I'd hope the members have read them). All the other major awards (acting, directing, etc.) can be determined by just watching the film. But is it really fair to judge the screenplay this way? What can you learn about the script from watching the film? The dialog, that's about it. But what about all that other stuff on the page? Shouldn't the description and action lines also weigh in on the decision of whether or not to award the screenplay with a statue?

Take, for example, Lethal Weapon. Shane Black does some unconventional things with the description—he talks to you, he takes you along for the ride, he let's you see things exactly the way he intends to—and yet not one nomination for original screenplay. Sure, it's just a cops and robbers story—at least that's all it seems if you just watch the movie—and maybe by that regard it doesn't seem like a great original screenplay. But I think you'd be hard pressed to find many screenwriters who wouldn't agree that Shane Black's script is worthy of admiration, let alone an award for creative, original screenwriting.

Looking at the current contenders in this light (though I haven't read them all just yet), I'd have to select Tony Gilroy's wonderfully written Michael Clayton as the best original screenplay of 2007. The script completely turned my head around to the ways in which one could write descriptive paragraphs—and I've never seen a better use of parentheticals (boy, did that sound geeky—but true).

It's a shame that most screenplays will only be judged by their film version, and not on their words alone.

The Movie Club Redux, Part 16: The Director's Final Special Extended Edition

TO: Tavis, Levi, Lin
FROM: Boltron
RE: Director's Cut

How excited are we for the Zodiac Director's Cut coming to DVD today? (Slate has a piece about the film — but Lin, beware: it's got spoilers galore.)

I love Zodiac, but I was pretty pissed when the barebones DVD was dumped to stores last year. I rented it from Netflix and watched it again just because it's a great film (and just as strong on the second viewing), but if I'd rushed out to buy that disc I'd have been P-I-S-S-E-D.

Are we tired of the endless special editions yet? If there's one more goddamn Blade Runner or T2 variation, I'm gonna blow up a sci-fi convention, swear to God.

Then again, I was awfully pleased with the new edition of Serenity. And I was pretty happy with the old one. Nice to have a choice, I suppose.

Digression: Should we talk formats? Is anyone but me not the least bit interested in replacing his entire DVD library with HD-DVD or BluRay? Does the chance to count all the zits on Sharon Stone's ass up close really warrant the investment? Aren't these really just the laserdisc of our time, doomed to be specialty items that never really catch fire with the mass public like the DVD did — and destined to be replaced by whatever truly revolutionary new format hits the market in ten years? And what will that be, brain implants? And will they then offer HD brain implants to upgrade?

We now return you to Zodiac, already in progress.

I love David Fincher. I love his shot compositions, his mastery of tone, his dark sense of humor. I love his signature low-angle shots, even though he hardly utilizes any in Zodiac. I've enjoyed every single one of his films, even the "lightweight" entertainments like The Game and Panic Room, that are nonetheless first-rate thrillers — and, yes it's true, I confess, Alien 3. Above all, I love the fact that he makes $10-15 million movies that somehow cost $60-80 million. And I particularly enjoy the fact that mainstream critics are finally paying the due he deserves with Zodiac.

Hollywood execs must shake their heads when they see Fincher coming. Nobody wants to say no in case they're turning down the next Seven or Panic Room — but everyone must be terrified they're actually getting another Fight Club or Zodiac. I predict, like Fight Club (which similarly failed in theaters), Zodiac will develop a strong core of followers who found the movie on DVD.

This brings to mind a question Tavis has tossed at me more than once: the direct-to-DVD (or, coming soon, direct-to-download) release. Generally, "straight to video" has signalled a death knell for films, despite the fact that many theatrical flops find a second life in the home video market and become surprise hits over time (hello, Office Space!).

But with so many non-traditional avenues now open, and so many standard distribution channels clogged with junk like Underdog and Alvin and the Chipmunks (will we never tire of kicking those little CGI wads of pube?), how long will it be before the next big blockbuster-slash-Oscar winner is released "direct to MySpace"?

The Movie Club Redux, Part 15: The Lives of Mouth-Breathers

TO: Lin, Levi, Tavis
FROM: Boltron
RE: Stupid, Stupid Vegetables!

So, the Golden Globes are off. Tragic. I was looking forward to hearing how God helped the winners — and by default, decided the losers were colossal fuck-ups who don't deserve to touch that little statue.

We haven't touched on the writers' strike, maybe because none of us (as yet) are professional screenwriters. Is anyone outside of studio executives, entertainment writers, and spouses of unpaid writers even following the strike closely? It's not like my heart is breaking that we won't be able to sit through four hours of godawful "jokes," self-congratulation, and endless thanks to people none of us know. And without TV I can get a lot more writing and movie-watching done.

Personally, I'm excited about the strike and hope it continues long enough for me to have some solid screenplays ready to send out once the whole mess is settled. You may recall the spec sale boom of the late '80s/early '90s that started after the 1988 strike — and the opportunist in me is sure hoping for a similar eruption of new talent and golden paychecks.

Baby needs a new pair of shoes. And Papa wants to quit his day job.

Lin, you raise a great many, very solid questions about the moviegoing experience.

This year I was knocked out by Once, mesmerized by The Lives of Others, and took part in the making of a zero-budget film whose rough cut was far more enjoyable to me than anything with Michael Bay's name on it (I look forward to putting Uncle Sam's House on a Best of list in the near future).

After each film I reflected on how "authentic" it was, how refreshing it felt to get away from the confines of the classical Hollywood storytelling style, and how genuinely amazing it felt to experience characters and lives that felt real, rather than manufactured for mass production while aiming to maintain the illusion of perpetual happiness in the universe.

And then I went to see a mindless piece of junk made for mouth-breathers.

Why do I keep doing it? Maybe it goes back to my love of Raiders, which I adored as a young kid and continues to be one of my all-time faves — and not solely for nostalgia's sake. Both Raiders and Temple of Doom are wildly rewarding escapist films that don't require me to stuff popcorn between my ears to enjoy them.

The crazy fact is, we watch these films for the same reason we keep going on dates until we find the partner we want to keep around. (Gotta tread carefully here, since two of the Club's participants are married and the other two would sooner be hanged in a public square — but I think we can all agree that "keeping someone around," in whatever desired capacity, is a fine goal.) For every half-dozen shallow, self-destructive, drug-addicted, drama queen, still-in-love-with-their-crazy-ex-whatever narcissists, there's that one person with whom you stay up all night making moony eyes and dreamy conversation — someone so transcendant that s/he makes the drudge worth slogging through.

Mainstream blockbusters are like that. I enjoyed the first Pirates of the Caribbean immensely, but found the second one an interminable mess. On the other hand, the blockbusters that really work — the Ratatouilles and Bourne Ultimatums — give me an electric thrill that few other experiences can match.

The trick, for me, is to maintain a steady diet of big and small. A few years back my two favorite films were The Incredibles, which I maintain is the finest work of white-knuckled, escapist brilliance since the aforementioned Raiders, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Two more different movies, I cannot imagine. Yet both were equally ingenious, in completely separate ways. They tickled both sides of my brain and even yanked off my belt to provide that special tingle in the happy secret naughty place that only a great movie can achieve.

And I really do believe the best blockbusters, the ones that transcend the "popcorn flick" ghetto and allow you to enjoy them without having to "shut off your brain" (God, I hate that phrase), tap into some universal nerve for great, mass-appeal adventure, comedy, or romance stories. There may even be something genuinely mythic about the experience, earning the so-often-overused comparison to that primal storytelling need we felt as cavemen gathered around the fire fully-formed human beings made in the image of God (sentence corrected by the Bush Administration).

But Lin — as you've demonstrated time and again at the Virginia Cafe — if you're gonna eat that cheeseburger, you have to make sure you substitute a salad for fries on a semi-regular basis. It's may be the Delusional Diet, yes, but it feels healthy.

We get our backs up over the "mouth-breather" films because they're so prevalent in our society. Junk food is the perfect analogy — most of the moviegoing public just wants their burger, fries, and a shake, and not a damn thing more. And they'll get pissed if you suggest they try the foie gras instead.

If I'm going to see this food metaphor through to the bitter, unpleasant end, I should note that, just as so many people are suddenly throwing extravagant dinner parties in the wake of the Food Network (and, ahem, Ratatouille), it seems that the middlebrow arthouse boutique film is finally coming into its own. Sideways, Little Miss Sunshine, and yes, Juno demonstrate conclusively that there is a solid middle audience, somewhere between the face-punching giant robots and the rain-loving Croatian farmers, that wants to be entertained without being insulted. They're just a tad bit choosier and tougher to entice into the theater on a regular basis.

The funny thing is, this shouldn't be a revelation — these are exactly the sorts of films Hollywood used to crank out for the masses in giant doses, to great success. Today, classics like Casablanca, The Philadelphia Story, and The Apartment would reach us courtesy of the Sundance Festival and Fox Searchlight.

What's happened is that the A and B pictures have swapped places. Whereas once the smart Cary Grant comedy or heartfelt Jimmy Stewart drama would be the "A" film, and the badly dubbed, cheapie Italian import Hercules Stomps Your Mom would be the "B" flick, today the studios throw hundreds of millions into their tentpole Hercules flicks. It's left to the "indie" stalwarts to come up with the prestige pictures and compete for precious space in the arthouse theaters while praying for raves from the major film critics.

Pity. But as long as someone is making them, I guess we ought not to complain.

You could blame Jaws if you want to. But that doesn't erase the fact that Jaws is one hell of a fucking terrific movie.

The Movie Club Redux, Part 14: No Country for Old Endings

TO: Boltron, Lin, Levi
FROM: Tavis
RE: No Country for Old Endings

[SPOILERIFIC]

Hmmm...apparently we're not the only group discussing the ending of No Country for Old Men. What is it that fascinates-- or frustrates-- about this film? I'll admit I was left with a few questions when the lights came up, but now that I've had time to let it sink in I see it as the perfect ending. Okay, so I did rush home from the theater to pull up the screenplay online to clarify a few points: So that was Josh Brolin we see dead in the doorway of the hotel room. I though it was just one of the Mexicans. Anton did end up with the money. That single shot of the open vent and the dime next to the screws tells you all. Did they see each other in the reflection of the lock? It's right there in the script.

I think the ending only seems out of place if you aren't following the true heart of the story. And unsettling as it is, imagine how much more it would have been if we actually saw Josh Brolin's character get killed. The fact that we only see the aftermath clues us in to the fact that he isn't the emotional core of the story. And when Tommy Lee steps into the room, there's a sense that he knows he could very well be killed-- and I would argue that he even wants it at that point-- he sits down on the bed and waits for it. I think it is at this point that he is realizing the title of the film and if he gets out alive he will get out of police work altogether.

Roger Ebert has mentioned that a perfect film is one that you can't live without ever seeing again. As for No Country for Old Men-- I'm looking forward to my next viewing.

The Movie Club Redux, Part 13: Shortcuts to the Mindless Mouth-Breathers

TO: Boltron, Tavis, Levi
FROM: Lin
RE: Selling Stupid

I'll start off by mentioning a little something that, while off-topic, might allow everyone the opportunity to dismiss everything I say hereafter. And I say, Bring on your dismissal! I'm a man, I can take it! (sniffs quietly inside). So, my first exposure to the Indiana Jones movies was seeing the third one on cable (wasn't River Phoenix in that one? That's probably why I watched it). I thought it was fine, I don't really remember it. Much later, after college, I watched Raiders on video and thought, "Meh, what's all the fuss about? I'm probably just too old for this now." The one thing I remember was the duel scene, where Indy pulls out his gun and shoots the other guy, and I thought, Well, that's funny and everything, but that pretty much sums up my problem with this movie. It takes short cuts and it's smug about them. Now that that's become the template (along with Star Wars) for movies of almost any genre, I can accept it as a harbinger of where things were headed. But I don't have to like it (speaker sports a curmudgeonly pouting lower lip).

On a slightly related note, Tavis, you write, "I love mindless entertainment — it's just a shame that so much of it is made for mouth-breathers." Well, technically, it's ALL made for mouth-breathers, as they are, by definition, mindless. Mindless entertainment isn't made for smart people. Sure, smart people can enjoy it from time to time (I certainly have my favorites), but your complaint is kind of like saying, "Well, I like vegetables, but I don't see why so many vegetarians have to eat them." When you guys ask why big-budget movies have become so stupid, it's because we keep paying to see them! Levi, you mentioned giving up on the Pirates of the Caribbean series despite an interest in seeing "how it finishes." How what finishes? These things aren't designed to finish, they barely even start. I will admit to seeing the first "installment," so I am equally guilty of paying into the Dumb Hollywood Down hedge fund, but as I recall, it was just 2.5 hours of cinematic time-marking, like running in circles or watching wallpaper peel. And you can argue that you won't know it sucks until after you've bought your ticket, but I say, 9 times out of 10, yes you can. They're sold stupid, it's what you go in paying for, they don't claim to be well thought-out or challenging, quite the opposite. And I also maintain that the ones that are good, the "mindless" entertainments that I believe Tavis is referring to, ARE intelligently made. Raiders is a good example of that, an escapist entertainment that is well-crafted and smartly executed, my reservations about the material aside.

Tavis: Darjeeling's on my Favorites of the Year list, and I'm disappointed to see it's not on others, primarily because I think it's a big movie, bigger than Life Aquatic (which I also loved, but maybe not as much), and way bigger than any of his other movies. In terms of themes, character development, sense of place, I think it's a new direction for Wes Anderson and I think it's unfortunate that so many critics have trouble seeing past his (admittedly attention-grabbing) production design. But there were some big ideas wrapped into that production design (beyond the luggage), and a lot of history and a lot of sadness. Those people are really trying to get outside of themselves, a new topic for Wes, and I think it shows that he's maturing into a deeper filmmaker. I hope it continues.

And I never answered your other question about scripts. I don't really read them. I probably should but, well, I don't. Mostly because I would only consider reading them after watching the movie, and then it feels like going backward. Do you guys usually read scripts before watching the movie? (Sounds like you do.) Does that ever get in the way of watching the movie, or does it enhance it?

Boltron: Sondheim's notoriously unhummable. That's kind of the running joke about him. And they slowed down the songs so you could actually hear what people were saying, which I appreciated. But sadly, I have nothing to counter your argument with. I had a great time at that movie.

Speaking of great times: I saw The Savages this weekend, and it shoots right up onto my list. In fact, it was so freaking well done, I'm a little pissed it's not getting more attention. I think the problem is that we expect a certain amount of perfection from people like Laura Linney and Philip Seymour Hoffman, and so when they deliver it AND make it look so easy, it's more a confirmation than a surprise and no eyebrows are raised. But MY GOD they're good, as is the entire cast, and the writing is almost beyond reproach. Also, it was so nice (much like with You Can Count On Me) to watch a movie on a subject I'd never seen addressed before. Several subjects in fact, and I also wish THAT got a little more notice. Sure, I love No Country, but I've seen the struggle between lawmen and one-off vigilante crazy-asses before, many many times, and the same goes for There Will Be Blood, Before The Devil, all those movies. I love a tight construction as much as the next person (no comment) but it should count for a lot when a movie navigates into more uncharted territory. Especially when it's done with such grace and fearlessness.

As for No Country, I don't think it matters what exactly happened at the end. The thing I love about that movie is that, beginning with Llewellyn's death, none of the remaining murders are committed on camera. In a story that would ordinarily escalate into a bloodbath, the Coens stop showing you the blood, because they've got something bigger on their minds. The movie ceases to be about who did what to whom (and all of this may be a cover-up for the fact that I personally lost track), and becomes, like any good Western, about the descent into lawlessness and the fragile mortality of America's better angels. Also, for me, the tension gets ratcheted up every time they DON'T show someone getting killed, because you don't get the cathartic release of a gunshot, the movie just keeps getting quieter and quieter until you're left trapped in a tight shot with the face of a lost and broken old man. What's happening with the plot and the bad guy has been pushed off-screen in favor of what's happening inside this one man's heart.

Whew, I think I've gone on for long enough! Feel free to fire back at me.

The Movie Club Redux, Part 12: Speechless?

TO: Tavis, Lin, Levi
FROM: Boltron
RE: Is this the end?

Uh-oh... are we running out of things to say about 2007?

Or are we all still hungover from the weekend?

Both are perfectly acceptable. There has already been plenty said, though I would be sad to watch the chit-chat come to an end before we have some kind of concensus on what, exactly, happened at the end of No Country for Old Men.

Last night I caught up with Eastern Promises on DVD. It's one that I missed in theaters, but that turned out to be okay because I don't think it would have broken into my Best of the Year list.

Close, though.

It was definitely the most enjoyable Cronenberg film I've seen in a long while. Since The Fly, maybe. Like many (onetime) horror filmmakers who started in the '70s and '80s, Cronenberg is a bit stronger with the meaty, yucky, shock-y scenes and not so strong with the interpersonal drama stuff. I was not a fan of A History of Violence, which struck me as a 2 a.m. Cinemax flick that would star Don "The Dragon" Wilson, only with an A-list cast. Cronenberg's visual style is so pedestrian it seems made for TV.

However, with Eastern Promises he seems at ease with that "talking heads stuff." (I picture guys like Craven, Carpenter, and Cronenberg reacting to those dialogue scenes in their horror movies the way Fred Savage responds to all the romance in The Princess Bride — except Cronenberg's the only one who's gotten all the way to the end, where the kissing is actually kinda cool.) The drama was solid, the characters intriguing, and even the stuff in-between Viggo Mortensen's flapping dick and balls was rock solid.

I was a bit dismayed by the ending. I very much liked the twist — which I didn't see coming, and isn't rare these days that you can't even tell when a twist is on the way? However, the film felt too short, like it wrapped everything up just a smidge too tidily. And hey, who wouldn't want to see the sequel, with Aragorn as a Russian godfather? Good stuff.

Maybe 2007 should be the Year of the Slashed Throats. Between Eastern Promises and Sweeney Todd, there were a lot of gushing jugulars on the screen.

My God. How have we not talked about Sweeney Todd yet? When it ended, I sat in a state of near-perfect delirium, wishing they would just start it again from the top. I only wish the songs were a tad more hummable, if only so I could get them stuck in my head as I walked out of the theater.

There should be more Jacobean tragedy musicals released during the holidays. Starring CGI chipmunks.

Did anyone on this group NOT love Sweeney Todd?

Or feel that, finally, Tim Burton had found his ideal subject matter?

Or that Johnny Depp is the bad-ass king of the universe — as long as the movie stays under two and a half hours long?

The Movie Club Redux, Part 11: On the Floor

TO: Boltron, Tavis, Lin
FROM: Levi
RE: Best of Stab

Bolton, you asked for a "Best of" list, but there are too many films I haven't yet seen to make any definitive stab. For example, I have yet to see "Michael Clayton" or "The Savages," and "There Will Be Blood" hasn't opened here just yet. (This is one thing I missed about living in Los Angeles -- you get so-called prestige pictures first. By now, I'd have already written three emails to Bolton telling him how awesome "Blood" is.) However, I'm not gonna take a total cop-out, so here are the best movies of 2007 that I have seen:

Once
Ratatouille
No Country for Old Men
Sweeney Todd
3:10 to Yuma
Hot Fuzz ("Crusty jugglers!")
Zodiac
Superbad

These aren't in any specific order, except for "Once," a movie which left me on the floor of the Fox Tower downtown and pulled off the same feat here at home. That movie levels me. Bolton pointed out the beauty of the scene where the two leads feel their way through a song in a piano shop, but I am smashed by the scene after the recording session ends. Everybody has just been a part of something magical that will never be replicated in their lives. It is incredibly powerful and for a few moments, I am insanely jealous of the characters for having such an experience. And it takes a lot to make me envious of imaginary people.

It's funny, Bolton, how you mention you cannot remember many bad movies of the year -- I am the same way. If think a movie sucks, it rarely stays with me unless it was something I was so looking forward to that I cannot help but carry my disappointment on my back for weeks. And this was the first year where I really did make an effort to steer clear of movies I just knew wouldn't entertain me, such as the third "Pirates" movie. I saw the second one out of duty, and halfway through that inane Liar's Dice scene, I knew I had to change my game plan. No more catching the second or third movie in a trilogy just to "see how it finishes."

You mention how "Knocked Up" had you seeing red, primarily for the fact it didn't click with your politics. That's a perfectly acceptable position, but I guess the reason I was partially shut down is that I just rejected the love story. The whole time, I just sat there and thought: false. I have known these people in real life -- career-climber and schlub -- and can tell you that it just isn't going to happen. Now, a comedy where she cannot get him out of her life because he decides to man up and take responsibility and they eventually find common understanding and respect (not love, mind you)? That I would have been more in tune with.

Also, your aside about "Juno" isn't entirely right. It isn't an evil abortion clinic worker that keeps Juno from having an abortion. It's the apathy in the clinic that unnerves her. And that sat with me just fine. I think if the girl saw that it would be harder, she might have done it. But confronted with apathy, she buckled. I get that.

Are there any movies you are all really looking forward to this year? I'll stick my neck out here with:

Cloverfield
Run, Fat Boy, Run
Iron Man
Wall-E
The Dark Knight
City of Ember
Synecdoche
The Ruins

I'm even looking forward to the next "Harry Potter" movie, as last year's "Order of the Phoenix" was the first one I've enjoyed. Also, add "The Time Traveler's Wife" to that list if it actually does come out at the end of 2008.

The Movie Club Redux, Part 10-1/2: Now I Remember!

TO: Levi, Tavis, Lin
FROM: Boltron
RE: It came to me...

That "other film" for which the critics wildly bellowed but whose title I forgot?

It was Grindhouse — or half of it, at any rate, since I joined almost the entire universe in (wisely) avoiding the theatrical release in droves.

I caught up with Death Proof, the Tarantino installment, on DVD. It probably makes some kind of sense to split the two movies up, even though I would argue they have exactly the same essential fan base. And in a project as dick-brained as this one — paying homage to a long-dead "genre" whose biggest kicks have already been absorbed into the mainstream and whose target audience would have to be at least 40 to recall the actual grindhouse experience — I would argue the fans are the only ones who'll jump onboard. (All box office evidence to the contrary.)

The problem with splitting the movies is having to add extra footage to fit the running time for a feature, whereas both segments could run a tad short when squeezed together. I know several people who sat through Grindhouse in the theater and begged to have those precious three (!!) hours of their lives back — but I'll go ahead and counter that that's nothing compared to sitting through Death Proof at its full, interminable length.

Imagine the unbearably self-indulgent Tarantino short from Four Rooms blown up to four times its length, with a few not-so-impressive car chases tossed in.

Now replace the preening male characters from that film with not one, but TWO sets of equally preening female caricatures who all look, dress, and act like Tarantino action figures.

And all sound like Tarantino.

Every single, God-bless-ya one of them.

To someone like me, who has admired Tarantino's films even while praying I never have to listen to the man speak again, it was excruciating — like having a Tarantino body snatcher possess a gaggle of beautiful women and turn them into diarrhea-mouthed, uber-nerdy retards for two hours.

That first half in the bar goes on FOREVER. And NOTHING happens!

It finally got to the point that I started skipping chapters, during the Rosario Dawson segment, just so they'd shut the fuck up and do some killin' (or get killed — which, alas, didn't happen). I hated the first Saw movie and haven't been interested in seeing any of the other "torture porn" flicks, but I really would have traded Tarantino's whole film just to watch some Hostel sadist show up and torture these characters to death.

When the climactic chase comes, it hinges completely on the stunt woman character doing something so pointlessly, idiotically dangerous that it transcends thrill-seeking and becomes a kamikaze suicide attempt. Are we supposed to care that someone this stupid might get killed by Kurt Russell's big, bad car? Isn't that like asking to feel sorry for a twelve-pack-a-day smoker who somehow gets lung cancer?

I did like Russell as Stuntman Mike, even though his character doesn't make a lick of sense. When he got shot and screamed "WHY?!" in a cowardly, whiny falsetto, it earned probably the only genuine laugh the movie squeezed out of me.

I'm hypercritical, I can admit that. And I sometimes have high expectations. Sometimes when I finish a book and I hate the ending or feel cheated, I'll get angry and throw it across the room at the far wall.

Death Proof was the first time I'd seriously considered pulling a DVD out of the player and hurling it against the far wall. But I didn't want to report the broken disc to poor Netflix.

Sure enough, I go online, still shaking with anger and frustration, and what do I find on Rotten Tomatoes? 81% fresh rating! Entertainment Weekly's Owen Gleiberman proves himself (yet again) to be a human asshat when he writes, "It summons the most crackerjack pop charge of any movie with Tarantino's name on it since Pulp Fiction."

Owen, seriously. Nickel ads is looking for a new copywriter. Better fit, good benefits — check it out.

Did any of you have a different reaction to Tarantino's circle-jerk?

I avoided Planet Terror because I don't generally like Rodriguez films that don't have the credit "Co-directed by Frank Miller." Did I miss out on the one good half of Grindhouse? Would I have been better off sitting through the theatrical release instead... or just avoiding the whole thing altogether?

The Movie Club Redux, Part 10: Sma-Smortion?!?

TO: Levi, Tavis, Lin
FROM: Boltron
RE: Worst of the Year?

Levi, welcome aboard! Now — how about that Best of the Year list?

I want to add my two cents about the ending of No Country for Old Men — but I'm still trying to figure out how Tommy Lee Jones and Javier Bardem saw each other's reflections in the broken lock at the motel yet didn't end up face-to-face in the room!

I was so baffled by that scene that I was only half-paying attention during Tommy Lee's monologue about the dream — and suddenly the movie ended and I went, "Wait! What just happened?!"

The more I've reflected on that ending, however, the more perfect it seems. Levi, I must respectfully disagree about things being worse than they were — I think Barry Corben's story in the film's penultimate scene makes it clear things have always been bad, violence is as inexplicable as it is inescapable, and we are all subject to the horrible whims of fate.

Regardless of the ending, No Country was the year's most cinematically assured film. The sequence where Javier Bardem finds Josh Brolin in his hotel room is breathtaking — it should be studied all by itself in a master filmmaking class. This is how you pay off a set-up. We see nothing but the shadow under the door, but by then the Coens have so perfectly imbued their sound cues in our heads that what we hear paints a perfect picture.

And was there a single more suspenseful moment in the entire year than when the audience is practically screaming for Brolin to move away from that fucking lock?

I'm with you, Tavis — I love the Coen brothers' whole filmography, and think most critics have dropped the ball on them. They always swat the Coens for being "cold" and "unemotional," which is complete bullshit. I defy anyone not to find the (admittedly dark, yet still very much beating) heart at the center of Miller's Crossing. Or Barton Fink. And lest we forget, although today everyone (well, except for LIN, ahem!) jumps on the Big Lebowski bandwagon, it was completely dismissed by half-blind critics on its release.

As you know, Levi, you and I share the not-terribly-popular opinion that Last Crusade was the weakest of the Indy movies. I maintain that Temple of Doom is a worthy successor to Raiders (yes, it's dark, but I like my movies like I like my men) — and, of course, nothing can touch Raiders for sheer cinematic thrill-ride. Last Crusade basically took a dump on Raiders and tried to laugh it off. The whole film feels like a lark, nothing sticks to it, and ultimately it's the most forgettable of the bunch.

Do I have any faith that The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (say that five times fast) will be a worthy successor? Let's put it this way: of the Magic Three who oversee the Indy series, only one has produced anything in the past decade that makes me think he shouldn't retire from film altogether. And when we're talking about Spielberg, really, the man should just keep making films from the grave.

Lucas and Ford, however, might want to take up gardening.

I'm not giving up on the possibility that they'll hit the magic button again. I believe Spielberg is a powerful enough force for good to win out. True, Lucas cranked out the abominable Star Wars prequel trilogy — but as I've groused elsewhere, I think the entire Star Wars series is a bust (save Empire Strikes Back, the only one that really works). But it sure inspired a lot of fun times with those action figures in the Eighties!

I've made my case in the past for avoiding Transformers, and I stand by it. Nothing I've seen or heard since has convinced me otherwise.

"Anonymous" wrote in the comments section (yes, incredibly, someone is reading these!!) that Gone Baby Gone is his first choice for Worst of the Year. I wasn't blown away by the film, but I can't say it was truly terrible. The leads lacked chemistry and the plot twists were a mite too obvious (you don't cast Ed Harris and Morgan Freeman without involving them in some major plot developments), but I dug the South Boston flavah and admired the downbeat ending.

The truth is, I'm having trouble with a "Worst of 2007" title, mainly because I (mostly) avoided the ones I just knew would suck.

Yes, I did give in to Spider-Man 3 — and for about the first hour I thought it was okay. In fact, I remember thinking, Hey, this isn't nearly as bad as I'd heard! Maybe it will be good. Then Peter Parker turned into Fallout Boy in the most ridiculous sequence of the year, a major antagonist like Venom was tossed into an already overstuffed mix and treated as an afterthought, and the climax devolved into the lamest Marvel Team-Up in history. I have rarely been so relieved to see the end credits of a film come up — I spent the last hour of that movie terrified that Sam Raimi would find some way to screw up the entire series even more horrendously.

But after the misery that was the first Pirates of the Caribbean sequel, I wasn't about to fall for that shit again. And no Tim Allen comedies for me, thanks. In fact, I managed to dodge pretty much every stinker that mainstream critics had to wade through (no Southland Tales — suck it, Richard Kelly!).

Honestly, I have to admit that the worst films I can recall seeing — and here I should perhaps note that I hardly remember ANYTHING from last spring except Zodiac, so maybe I saw a dozen lousy movies and successfully dumped the memories from my database — were the critics' darlings that didn't live up to the hype.

Last year I was baffled at the critical hosannas (not to mention the Oscars) for The Departed, which I despised as un-thrilling, lazy filmmaking enlivened only by Matt Damon's strong (and unfortunately underused) performance. This year I heard the critics bellow wildly for the likes of Knocked Up, The Host, and... shit, I know there was another one, but I just can't think of it now. And in each case I wondered what was in their water and how I could guzzle a gallon or two of it, myself.

Lin, you named The Host as one of your favorites of last year, and I'd love to hear an explanation for that.

Rotten Tomatoes is peppered with critical accolades along the lines of, "What a joyous, crazy, scary, hilarious thrill-ride!" But I found nothing remotely suspenseful or scary about it — the fucking thing was as cheesy as a rubber-monster Godzilla flick, and as incoherent as seven Godzilla flicks randomly edited together. The tone veered wildly, but not in the right ways — when the film seemed to be trying to get serious, it was unintentionally hilarious; when it wanted to be funny, it was cringe-inducingly awful.

Is this just me missing some cultural divide? If this had been an American film, I suspect we'd all be talking about what a disastrous, overwrought mish-mash it was. But I get the feeling American critics kind of shrugged and said, "Those crazy Koreans!" and gave it a pass for not having tortured teenagers in it.

I found Knocked Up equally disappointing. This is coming from someone who really liked both The 40 Year Old Virgin and Superbad, so it's not like I'm opposed to that style of abrasive comedy (which, as anyone who's read Anarchy Rules knows, is right up my alley). Nor do I resist the squishy center Judd Apatow adds to soften the blows from his dirty gags.

However, the entire premise of Knocked Up was so ham-handed and fatally flawed that not a single moment rang true for me. The two leads had no chemistry, and the idea that someone like Katherine Heigl would ever hook up with someone like Seth Rogen without the benefit of being drunk to the point of alcohol poisoning is beyond ludricrous.

Then Apatow makes the fatal error of having them "fall in love" and be a couple when she decides to keep the baby. Dramatically speaking, I would have found it much more interesting if he'd wanted the abortion, she'd said no, and he became enough of a mensch to say, "Fine, then I'm taking part in my kid's life." Then, even though they apparently had no attraction, they would have to spend the next nine months together — and gradually, in time-honored movie logic, they would "accidentally" fall in love by the ending.

Instead, Apatow has almost no conflict, lots of half-assed scenes that felt improvised (I know this is his style, but this was the first film in which I could tell the screenplay read, "Aw, Paul and Seth will make up something funny here."), and the jokes were just so-so.

And yet, the critics loved it. Audiences embraced it. I shook my head in bewilderment and huddled amidst a small group of fellow resisters. It kind of reminded me of being an anti-war liberal during the 2003 invasion of Iraq.

Speaking of which... okay, yes, it's finally time.

No more avoiding it... Sma-smortion.

When that scene happened, I swear to God my vision turned red and I went into a rage-induced trance for the next ten minutes. I think I recovered just in time to see Heigl's screen mom played as a drunken villainess who positively salivates over the idea of vacuuming a glorious life right out of her daughter's womb, and then I went back to red again.

What the fuck has happened to this country?

And don't tell me abortion isn't funny. Even setting Citizen Ruth aside for the moment, here are two prime examples: back in the mid-Nineties, Seinfeld had a whole episode where Elaine discovers the guy she's dating is anti-abortion, and she (and everyone else she talks to) is stunned and appalled; and back in the early '70s Bea Arthur's character had an abortion on Maud, whose first season came out on DVD this year.

I realize a couple of know-nothing hacks like Norman Lear, Jerry Seinfeld, and Larry David don't know shit about real comedy — but don't you think Knocked Up's refusal to even address abortion as a viable issue rather than dismissing it outright was pure cowardice? Are we all bowing down to the heartland evangelicals now, for fear that we might only gross $100 million domestically rather than $150 million?

Not having seen Juno, I can't really add that film into the discussion, except that I've read about how Juno is scared off by an evil employee in an abortion clinic. And it gives me yet another reason to avoid the thing.

Then there's Waitress, where Keri Russell keeps her abusive asshole husband's baby for no better reason than... I don't know, she wants to make Please Stop Beating Up My Baby Pie, or something. That was a strangely uneven film in which, for every scene of nearly unbearable wistfulness, there followed a strong scene that gave you a rush of compassion for the characters. I walked out feeling that poor Adrienne Shelly didn't quite hit it out of the park with her first at-bat, but wishing she could step up to the plate again.

And also thinking that, between Slither and Waitress, Nathan Fillion is one of our sturdiest and most tragically unsung leading men. Of course, being a Firefly and Serenity nut (notice I didn't say "browncoat," as I'm not a truly fanatical nut — yet), I'm already on the guy's side.

And what about the gems that got away? How did audiences miss out on Hot Fuzz, which would have been the funniest straight comedy of the year if Superbad hadn't come along with its gallery of hilarious penis drawings?

What else got unfairly neglected in the shuffle?