There has been a trend I have been noticing in Hollywood lately that I have not enjoyed. In fact, it makes me feel bad for a group of people who might be out of work.
No, not actors. And not their writers, either. Good editors.
That's right, your friendly neighborhood editor. You may not think of him or her as you are watching your favorite film, but they have made the movie you are watching all that it is. Those dramatic montages, the flow of a scene -- hell, even the fact that the box of Tide is on the laundry where it should be is thanks to this wonderful and dedicated worker, some of whom have to spend hours working on this project.
I am bringing up the editors because I realized last night that three recent movies I have seen -- "Iron Man," "Sex and the City" and "Dark Knight" (yes, even my beloved "Dark Knight") -- could have really used one.
Where, you may ask? It's simple -- lenghth.
Did you know that back in the 1930s, the average movie was an hour and a half? Now it seems like we're pushing into the two-and-a-half hour range for most movies.
It doesn't have to be this way. "Dark Knight" could have simply cut the whole "let's-go-to-China" bit of the movie, and "Sex and the City" could have cut several scenes to get to the meat of the story. Mind you, I loved these two movies, and I had a very good time watching them for very different reasons. But when you're watching a two hour movie for longer than it should be, it gets to you after a while. Several of the "Harry Potter" films also have this problem.
They want to shape a story, but they want to leave in all the parts that we just don't need to watch in order to get to it. We'll enjoy the movie without these segueways and asides just as much. A skilled editor could tell you where the story needs to be cut and what is getting in the way.
They certainly didn't have one in the case of "Iron Man." That person went on vacation. There was an hour of exposition. Seriously, we don't need that much. I keep hearing the excuse, "Oh, it's about weapons and the evils of terrorism, etc." I could see that within five minutes. I didn't need an hour. And as much as I love Robert Downey, Jr., the movie for me seemed like a load.
We don't need a 150-minute movie when a normal sized one will do. If a movie is worth our three hours -- "Lord of the Rings" comes to mind -- we will put the three hours into it to watch. But Hollywood, please listen carefully: Good editing is what makes your films great. They are quiet and behind the scenes. If I need to be making a call out to hire some editors, then you have a serious problem.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
"The Dark Knight" and the potential stupidity of the Academy
Let me preface this: My father is a member of the Academy. I love him dearly. I have visited the Academy's headquarters in Hollywood with him. I have respect for a lot of what they do.
But let me just say this: If "Wall-E" or "Dark Knight" (preferably "Dark Knight") isn't nominated for a Best Picture Oscar the morning of Thursday, January 22, let's just say that the Academy is incredibly stupid.
For years, I have been hearing all the stories about how the Academy wants to get people to actually watch their special show. Come watch the Oscars!, they would say. Glamorous people! Pretty clothes and fashion disasters! Come see!
They don't get it. They never really have, I guess. But let me give the Academy a little hint to their problem of getting people to watch their show: Two of the highest-rated Oscar shows had movies nominated for best picture that were jinormous blockbusters -- Titanic back for 1998's show, and 2003 for Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. Last year, where almost none of the films broke $100 million (the only one that had that honor was Juno), the ratings were horrible.
See, Academy? Take the hint: big box-office earners mean more viewers tune in to see if their favorite film won.
Mind you, not all years have something like "The Dark Knight": a movie that not only had great action sequences and was valuable entertainment, but really got to the very heart and soul of people. It had something to say, and yet said it in an amazing and breathtaking way. It is the second-highest grossing film of all time for a reason, and it wasn't just because Heath Ledger was dead (and if that man doesn't win an Oscar, anybody who works at the Academy building should hide the following Monday. I smell rioting fans).
But I keep hearing from the critics, "But it isn't prestige enough! It's not a typical award-winning film! Put in 'Benjamin Button'!" No offense to Mr. Button, since I haven't seen it yet, but I am reluctant because I usually find Brad Pitt as engaging as a doormat.
Let me just say something for prestige in this regard: It doesn't factor into what people remember, what touches them. If a film is beautiful yet so far removed, I don't think anyone will care. If a story engages them and takes them on this incredible journey, like many moviegoers went through Gotham City -- then they will never forget and keep talking about it for years to come, telling their grandchildren where they were when they saw this incredible feat of art and history.
Try that in 10 years, when you watch "Doubt" again.
But let me just say this: If "Wall-E" or "Dark Knight" (preferably "Dark Knight") isn't nominated for a Best Picture Oscar the morning of Thursday, January 22, let's just say that the Academy is incredibly stupid.
For years, I have been hearing all the stories about how the Academy wants to get people to actually watch their special show. Come watch the Oscars!, they would say. Glamorous people! Pretty clothes and fashion disasters! Come see!
They don't get it. They never really have, I guess. But let me give the Academy a little hint to their problem of getting people to watch their show: Two of the highest-rated Oscar shows had movies nominated for best picture that were jinormous blockbusters -- Titanic back for 1998's show, and 2003 for Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. Last year, where almost none of the films broke $100 million (the only one that had that honor was Juno), the ratings were horrible.
See, Academy? Take the hint: big box-office earners mean more viewers tune in to see if their favorite film won.
Mind you, not all years have something like "The Dark Knight": a movie that not only had great action sequences and was valuable entertainment, but really got to the very heart and soul of people. It had something to say, and yet said it in an amazing and breathtaking way. It is the second-highest grossing film of all time for a reason, and it wasn't just because Heath Ledger was dead (and if that man doesn't win an Oscar, anybody who works at the Academy building should hide the following Monday. I smell rioting fans).
But I keep hearing from the critics, "But it isn't prestige enough! It's not a typical award-winning film! Put in 'Benjamin Button'!" No offense to Mr. Button, since I haven't seen it yet, but I am reluctant because I usually find Brad Pitt as engaging as a doormat.
Let me just say something for prestige in this regard: It doesn't factor into what people remember, what touches them. If a film is beautiful yet so far removed, I don't think anyone will care. If a story engages them and takes them on this incredible journey, like many moviegoers went through Gotham City -- then they will never forget and keep talking about it for years to come, telling their grandchildren where they were when they saw this incredible feat of art and history.
Try that in 10 years, when you watch "Doubt" again.
Where have all the good movies gone?
(Originally posted on my Facebook page Monday, October 5. For more info, visit my page at Facebook.com)
This weekend at the box office, the number one movie was "Beverly Hills Chihuahua." Yes, a stupid movie about chihuahuas made $29 million of our hard-earned cash. I watched the trailer for it and said afterwards, "Wow, that's got to be a bad movie." And yet America ate it up.
Which makes me wonder: Where are those wonderful movies that we grew up with? Don't say, "Well, it's a family movie." I grew up with the "Muppet Movie," "The Secret of Nimh," "Wizard of Oz" and plenty of gorgeous Disney films, right down to "Beauty and the Beast." So that excuse simply does not fly in my book. Honestly, it seems like the only real thing that speaks in Hollywood today is a dollar. And since the majority of people in Hollywood are dying to make a buck, they're willing to put up with it.
But there were plenty of people in the past who defied this system. Think of Orson Welles with "Citizen Kane." Francis Ford Coppola had to fight the studios for the length of "The Godfather." Tarantino -- who, as many of you know, I love and adore -- totally bucked the studio system when he made "Pulp Fiction," doing things his way versus the old way and making his film a classic. Hell, "Gone With the Wind" paid $50,000 words to have the word "damn" in it. And don't forget "Rebel Without a Cause" and James Dean. There's a reason why these films -- and the people associated with them -- are legendary.
But the truth is that it's fancy special effects sell. Just ask George Lucas how much money he made off his CGI. It actually reminds me of a story my father told me, when he was a lighting director for theater. He lit the stage for a production, and his professor that he respected came out to see him. When my dad tailed him to the parking lot to ask what he thought of it, the professor sighed and told him that he forgot what lighting was for. It was to highlight everything that was going on during the performance. He was not the star of the show. Hollywood forgot that in the special effects wars. The explosions and fancy scenes are not the stars; the story that it is telling and the people who are venturing down that path are.
What happened to a great story? How about some great characters -- characters who we fall in love with, who scare us half to death, who we follow with anxiousness about what they are going to do next? What happened to cinema as art? Some indie films get it, while others are so pretentious you want to gag.
Mind you, there have been some great films this year, not to mention in the past five years. "The Dark Knight" was an incredible movie, filled with strong characters (not to mention Heath Ledger, who scared me like no tomorrow). "There Will Be Blood" was a great example of cinema as the platform for not only a strong character, but beautiful images. As for story, "Eternal Sunshine" was a gorgeous demonstration of where film stories can go.
Mind you, I am not against popcorn films. We need entertainment from our movies. But it shouldn't be brainless. Film should never talk down to us. It should move us, uplift us, inspire us, make us think and make us FEEL. Sometimes you just feel so numb in the dark of the movie theater it's scary, because the movie is just there.
Hollywood has forgotten where it came from. It was born out of beautiful stories and great characters. It was born from great directors and fabulous actors who took you where you needed to go, to make us feel desire, want, laughter, desperation and redemption.
Meanwhile, I am looking desperately for a film where I can fall in love, laugh, cry and come out of it thinking and discussing it for hours upon hours. Let me ask you, Hollywood: Is that so much to ask?
This weekend at the box office, the number one movie was "Beverly Hills Chihuahua." Yes, a stupid movie about chihuahuas made $29 million of our hard-earned cash. I watched the trailer for it and said afterwards, "Wow, that's got to be a bad movie." And yet America ate it up.
Which makes me wonder: Where are those wonderful movies that we grew up with? Don't say, "Well, it's a family movie." I grew up with the "Muppet Movie," "The Secret of Nimh," "Wizard of Oz" and plenty of gorgeous Disney films, right down to "Beauty and the Beast." So that excuse simply does not fly in my book. Honestly, it seems like the only real thing that speaks in Hollywood today is a dollar. And since the majority of people in Hollywood are dying to make a buck, they're willing to put up with it.
But there were plenty of people in the past who defied this system. Think of Orson Welles with "Citizen Kane." Francis Ford Coppola had to fight the studios for the length of "The Godfather." Tarantino -- who, as many of you know, I love and adore -- totally bucked the studio system when he made "Pulp Fiction," doing things his way versus the old way and making his film a classic. Hell, "Gone With the Wind" paid $50,000 words to have the word "damn" in it. And don't forget "Rebel Without a Cause" and James Dean. There's a reason why these films -- and the people associated with them -- are legendary.
But the truth is that it's fancy special effects sell. Just ask George Lucas how much money he made off his CGI. It actually reminds me of a story my father told me, when he was a lighting director for theater. He lit the stage for a production, and his professor that he respected came out to see him. When my dad tailed him to the parking lot to ask what he thought of it, the professor sighed and told him that he forgot what lighting was for. It was to highlight everything that was going on during the performance. He was not the star of the show. Hollywood forgot that in the special effects wars. The explosions and fancy scenes are not the stars; the story that it is telling and the people who are venturing down that path are.
What happened to a great story? How about some great characters -- characters who we fall in love with, who scare us half to death, who we follow with anxiousness about what they are going to do next? What happened to cinema as art? Some indie films get it, while others are so pretentious you want to gag.
Mind you, there have been some great films this year, not to mention in the past five years. "The Dark Knight" was an incredible movie, filled with strong characters (not to mention Heath Ledger, who scared me like no tomorrow). "There Will Be Blood" was a great example of cinema as the platform for not only a strong character, but beautiful images. As for story, "Eternal Sunshine" was a gorgeous demonstration of where film stories can go.
Mind you, I am not against popcorn films. We need entertainment from our movies. But it shouldn't be brainless. Film should never talk down to us. It should move us, uplift us, inspire us, make us think and make us FEEL. Sometimes you just feel so numb in the dark of the movie theater it's scary, because the movie is just there.
Hollywood has forgotten where it came from. It was born out of beautiful stories and great characters. It was born from great directors and fabulous actors who took you where you needed to go, to make us feel desire, want, laughter, desperation and redemption.
Meanwhile, I am looking desperately for a film where I can fall in love, laugh, cry and come out of it thinking and discussing it for hours upon hours. Let me ask you, Hollywood: Is that so much to ask?
The Beauty of Tragedy
(originally posted on my Facebook Monday, October 20. For more info, see my Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=626214115&ref=profile)
There has been a lot of talk about "W." lately, especially about the fact that it was created and released during George W. Bush's presidency. Everybody wonders why Oliver Stone did it, especially because the president is still in office.
I think I might have an answer, although it's not one that's mentioned with Mr. Stone's movie: The story of Bush is truly the story of the rise, followed by tragedy of the fall of man. From what I heard, I don't think that Stone caught it correctly. Creating a tragedy that people believe in is something that is terribly hard, especially in modern moviegoing. Most people come to the movies to see happy movies.
But when a tragedy is beautifully told on screen, it captures our souls. It will haunt our dreams. And above all, it will never let go of us peacefully.
In the recent AFI "100 Years, 100 movies," the top 10 list consisted of a number of tragedies. "Citizen Kane," in the fall of Charles Foster Kane told in dramatic and revolutionary cinematography; "The Godfather," whose entire story was the story of the rise and fall of Michael Corleone; and "Casablanca," where the lovers are to never be together forever.
The list continues with a variety of tragedies and dark stories: "Chinatown," "The Graduate," "Sunset Boulevard," "Raging Bull," "Apocalypse Now," "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," "Bonnie and Clyde"... well, you get the idea. These don't really have happy endings. And in all honesty, they're not supposed to. And that's part of the reason why they truly are affecting pictures and have stood the test of time.
I believe there are several types of tragedy. The first is the purest tragedy, when we see the highest of the high fall and lose themselves. Such are the stories of Michael Corleone and Charles Foster Kane. I would also put under this category a variety of the Shakespearean tragedy, where almost everyone dies. "Reservoir Dogs" is the purest example we have of this type of tragedy, where the characters suffer betrayal, deception, and eventually all fall (except for one) as they make the same mistake.
The second is the tragic love story. "Casablanca," "Gone With the Wind," "Titanic," "Eternal Sunshine," "West Side Story," "Brokeback Mountain" -- heck, even "Roman Holiday," despite the fact it was supposed to be a romantic comedy, was a tragic love story. The tragedy is in the sense that the two people can never be together, whether it is death, pain or duty that separates them. Some of the greatest love stories of our time are shaped around these stories. Hell, even the movie "The Terminator" has a tragic love story in it! But they move us, because in our lives there is always that one person who we loved, even just for a short time, who will linger with us forever. And we wonder constantly. And yet somehow, we find the strength to move on. Which brings me to the third type of tragedy, which is still my favorite.
The last is the tragedy where there is a fall, but despite the fall, there is some form of redemption there. A lot of the love tragedies have these endings. There is death, there is separation and a broken feeling. But the truth is that there is a wonderful redemption for the character who we see. The best redemption I see for a tragedy is in "Titanic," where it shows that despite the loss of love, she has continued on to do some incredible things in her life. She has stayed independent and free. Although we experience tragedy, we still see the hope that lies within. Another is "Rebel Without a Cause," where despite the shootout, James Dean has finally found some stability in his life -- a friend.
We do have some real-life examples of these three tragedies. I can think of Heath Ledger, who despite his death, gave one of his last performances in a beautiful fashion and triumphed as an artist. The fall of John McCain, as a man of reason and sound judgment willing to sell his soul and fall in order to get what he wants (I don't care if you're Republican or Democrat. You KNOW this isn't the John McCain who we have come to know) is a pure example of tragedy. Any love story where people are divided by circumstances beyond their control in our lives.
But the beauty of these tragedies is that they teach us about ourselves: About the decency of man and what we become when we are fueled by greed; the heart of lovers who are separated and are pining, yet somehow surviving; and the falls we have beyond our control, and yet we soldier on and find a way to lift ourselves from that horrible place. We also feel them because they are a part of our experience, and what we have seen.
Despite the darkness, even of the movie theater we may occupy while watching these films, we can still find the light. And that, I believe, makes all the difference.
There has been a lot of talk about "W." lately, especially about the fact that it was created and released during George W. Bush's presidency. Everybody wonders why Oliver Stone did it, especially because the president is still in office.
I think I might have an answer, although it's not one that's mentioned with Mr. Stone's movie: The story of Bush is truly the story of the rise, followed by tragedy of the fall of man. From what I heard, I don't think that Stone caught it correctly. Creating a tragedy that people believe in is something that is terribly hard, especially in modern moviegoing. Most people come to the movies to see happy movies.
But when a tragedy is beautifully told on screen, it captures our souls. It will haunt our dreams. And above all, it will never let go of us peacefully.
In the recent AFI "100 Years, 100 movies," the top 10 list consisted of a number of tragedies. "Citizen Kane," in the fall of Charles Foster Kane told in dramatic and revolutionary cinematography; "The Godfather," whose entire story was the story of the rise and fall of Michael Corleone; and "Casablanca," where the lovers are to never be together forever.
The list continues with a variety of tragedies and dark stories: "Chinatown," "The Graduate," "Sunset Boulevard," "Raging Bull," "Apocalypse Now," "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," "Bonnie and Clyde"... well, you get the idea. These don't really have happy endings. And in all honesty, they're not supposed to. And that's part of the reason why they truly are affecting pictures and have stood the test of time.
I believe there are several types of tragedy. The first is the purest tragedy, when we see the highest of the high fall and lose themselves. Such are the stories of Michael Corleone and Charles Foster Kane. I would also put under this category a variety of the Shakespearean tragedy, where almost everyone dies. "Reservoir Dogs" is the purest example we have of this type of tragedy, where the characters suffer betrayal, deception, and eventually all fall (except for one) as they make the same mistake.
The second is the tragic love story. "Casablanca," "Gone With the Wind," "Titanic," "Eternal Sunshine," "West Side Story," "Brokeback Mountain" -- heck, even "Roman Holiday," despite the fact it was supposed to be a romantic comedy, was a tragic love story. The tragedy is in the sense that the two people can never be together, whether it is death, pain or duty that separates them. Some of the greatest love stories of our time are shaped around these stories. Hell, even the movie "The Terminator" has a tragic love story in it! But they move us, because in our lives there is always that one person who we loved, even just for a short time, who will linger with us forever. And we wonder constantly. And yet somehow, we find the strength to move on. Which brings me to the third type of tragedy, which is still my favorite.
The last is the tragedy where there is a fall, but despite the fall, there is some form of redemption there. A lot of the love tragedies have these endings. There is death, there is separation and a broken feeling. But the truth is that there is a wonderful redemption for the character who we see. The best redemption I see for a tragedy is in "Titanic," where it shows that despite the loss of love, she has continued on to do some incredible things in her life. She has stayed independent and free. Although we experience tragedy, we still see the hope that lies within. Another is "Rebel Without a Cause," where despite the shootout, James Dean has finally found some stability in his life -- a friend.
We do have some real-life examples of these three tragedies. I can think of Heath Ledger, who despite his death, gave one of his last performances in a beautiful fashion and triumphed as an artist. The fall of John McCain, as a man of reason and sound judgment willing to sell his soul and fall in order to get what he wants (I don't care if you're Republican or Democrat. You KNOW this isn't the John McCain who we have come to know) is a pure example of tragedy. Any love story where people are divided by circumstances beyond their control in our lives.
But the beauty of these tragedies is that they teach us about ourselves: About the decency of man and what we become when we are fueled by greed; the heart of lovers who are separated and are pining, yet somehow surviving; and the falls we have beyond our control, and yet we soldier on and find a way to lift ourselves from that horrible place. We also feel them because they are a part of our experience, and what we have seen.
Despite the darkness, even of the movie theater we may occupy while watching these films, we can still find the light. And that, I believe, makes all the difference.
Welcome to Movies Critically Unbalanced!
Hello All!
My name is Reina Victoria, and welcome to Movies Critically Unbalanced!
I am a movie buff... I love movies and everything about them. I wrote my first term paper in high school on Citizen Kane. I study the classics and love the modern ones. The "suspension of disbelief" -- lets face it -- turns me on in a way you couldn't possibly imagine. I am trapped. I can't help it.
I love the experience of going to the theater (although I can't afford it right now). I even love greasy movie popcorn. The darkness, the sensuality of a great movie is worth it.
I am here to give my own point of view on movies -- no gimmicks, no influence by all those other critics who HAVE to like this movie because it's going to win ten-zillion Oscars (don't think I'm not looking at you, Forrest Gump). I'm here to tell it like I see it, and I don't care who's watching.
My name is Reina Victoria, and welcome to Movies Critically Unbalanced!
I am a movie buff... I love movies and everything about them. I wrote my first term paper in high school on Citizen Kane. I study the classics and love the modern ones. The "suspension of disbelief" -- lets face it -- turns me on in a way you couldn't possibly imagine. I am trapped. I can't help it.
I love the experience of going to the theater (although I can't afford it right now). I even love greasy movie popcorn. The darkness, the sensuality of a great movie is worth it.
I am here to give my own point of view on movies -- no gimmicks, no influence by all those other critics who HAVE to like this movie because it's going to win ten-zillion Oscars (don't think I'm not looking at you, Forrest Gump). I'm here to tell it like I see it, and I don't care who's watching.
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