Arrival (2016)

*major spoilers lie ahead

Denis Villeneuve, the bright director who brought us "Sicario" and "Prisoners," now delivers a mysterious alien visitation movie. He has a brilliant way of bringing a new twist to an old genre and "Arrival" is no exception.

One day on our blessed Planet Earth, 12 daunting spacecrafts appear out of thin air at 12 different cities. The lens-like obelisks just float there, taunting their viewers with the big questions: What do they want? Why are they here? Where did they come from?

The U.S. Military recruits linguistics expert Louise Banks (Amy Adams) and theoretical physicist Ian Donnelly (Jeremy Renner) to investigate and determine the giant squid-aliens' intentions. Through a series of charades and drawings, they begin to learn the beautiful loopty loop language that seemingly inks into the air as though it came out of a wizard wand. Louise explains to those who employed her (and the audience) how teaching and understanding the basics of language - things like pronouns and requests - they will eventually get to the bottom line: what's their deal.

The big story is interspersed with flashes of Banks' memories of her dying child, and a husband who left her. We are drawn in to her story and just as mystified by what haunts her. She performs her work with an air of sadness and burden but effectively connects with the aliens.

In the middle, things get chaotic. A message from the aliens is possibly misinterpreted as an attack and suddenly things start ~happening. Decisions are being made by people that are somehow important, communications are stopped (why?) and some rogue soldiers try to blow up the alien spacecraft that defies physics with a little bit of C4? A lot happens at once and I'll admit I was losing it a little then.

While everyone is running around like chickens with their heads cut off, Louise has a chat with our squid friends. Now, it isn't often that I am blown away by a plot twist, and maybe it's embarrassing how I didn't see it coming? But my whole opinion changed with the reveal.

Just like that, the past is the future, the present is the past, and the future is in her hands. With everything in perspective she is given the great gift of understanding and experiences the full breadth of her life in a single moment. Not only does she take charge of the alien situation at hand, but she makes decisions about herself. She chooses a life where she knows her daughter would die and somehow that's just amazing to me. She chooses the tragic, because she knew sweet moments would accompany it. How is that not empowering?

In one scene, she explains to her daughter that her name, Hannah, is a palindrome. This is also the key to the film structure. At the beginning, what we think is the past, is also the ending. It's a paradox and also very confusing but very powerful.

The acting lacked in some areas. Jeremy Renner didn't do much for me. I have never found him a very versatile or empathetic actor and he doesn't stand out in any way in this film either. He's a physicist but doesn't seem to do any physics or contribute anything at all. Forrest Whitaker also had a supporting role and seemed nothing more than a stereotype to fit.

None of that bothered me, though, with how fantastic Amy Adams was. She is a wonderfully diverse actress and this subtle, empathetic performance is one of her best. In many ways, this movie is all her. There are more close ups of her face than close examinations of the extra terrestrials; her reactions and wide eyes provide the insights we need to these other worldly visitors. The Academy sorely missed a nomination for her.

The best science fiction movies are deeply human at their core. This is a movie that gives its main character a powerful sense of free will and love and though "Arrival" struggles with some confusion in the second act the rest is so intriguing and mystifying that it doesn't matter. 8/10

Moonlight (2016)

In this intense coming of age story, "Moonlight" takes the story of Chiron in three stages. We watch him grow from "Little," a shy child neglected by his crack-addict mother, to a teenager struggling to find his sexual identity who is picked on and bullied, to a post-juvie drug dealer called "Black." Living on the streets of Miami can be hard and unforgiving. He is influenced throughout it his life by his mom Paula (Naomie Harris), a neighbor drug dealer named Juan (Mahershala Ali) and Kevin - with whom he shares his first kiss.

This is a small film. It's not very long. It's got a very simple plot. It's low-budget. There aren't any top-billed stars to rack in the attention. It's impossible to depict in just one film what it's like to be black (or gay, or black and gay) in America today but this attempts to provide a window on one particular experience in this character study. It's a movie that functions on observations, not words or action. 

To be honest, it's just kind of okay. I know it's been critically acclaimed but I feel like it's an emperor's new clothes type of situation. I didn't really enjoy watching it, and this isn't an uplifting story. I didn't feel moved or emotionally spent, just tired and a little bored.

Now, there were some good things.

The supporting characters leave lasting impressions despite their short screen-time. This is particularly true of Mahershala Ali. I was a big fan of his character on "House of Cards" and he stands out as the drug-dealer-with-a-heart-of-gold role. We've seen this kind of character before, but there was something striking about his eyes and expression when Chiron confronts him about dealing drugs to his mom - you could sense his hurt and disappointment and shame in himself.

At first it bothered me that I couldn't relate to this at all but I guess that gives "Moonlight" its own unique, gritty edge. "Boyhood" similarly told a coming of age story with different splices of a boy's life displayed in sequences and while I enjoyed that more (and find it a superior movie), this film still has something honest, and raw to offer.

I'm not sure how they managed to find three actors to play Chiron with consistency but color me impressed. Unlike "Boyhood" where the same kid literally grew up on the screen, "Moonlight" features three separate actors: Alex Hibbert, Ashton Sanders, and Trevante Rhodes. All three have the same level of shyness, wonder, and also hardness. 

However, though the three actors were consistent, the character itself just isn't anything very memorable. My qualm with his arc is that I feel like there's nothing more to his story than the summation of his interactions with others. There was hardly anything to suggest what he really thought of himself, what he thought of his life, what he loved or hated or what his hobbies were or who he really was on the inside. He's gay, he's black, he's got it rough, but who really is he?

The third act takes on a two-person narrative that, though emotional in part is weak and concludes abruptly. It feels a little unfinished, and sad with no catharsis. Chapter One's abrupt conclusion to Juan's story also feels incomplete and want of questions. 

Director Barry Jenkins' sophomore film seems like it wants to be more than it is: a simple story without a compelling hook. It's nothing to write home about.  5/10

Spotlight (2015)

In 2001 the "spotlight" team at The Boston Globe comprised of editor Walter "Robby" Robinson (Michael Keaton), and reporters Mike Rezendes (Mark Ruffalo), Sacha Pfeiffer (Rachel McAdams) and Matt Carroll (Brian d'Arcy James). This small group of investigative reporters would usually spend over a year on stories which require extra digging, in depth analysis, or extensive research. They work together like detectives putting together puzzles and bouncing ideas off of each other while tossing a tennis ball against the wall and eating leftover pizza. These are the kinds of stories that win awards, the kinds that change the world.

They begin investigating sexual abuse trends from Catholic priests in Boston. They interview a few victims, meet with a few experts and soon what starts as a seemingly small albeit horrific issue turns into a much bigger problem. There could be as many as 87 priests in Boston alone. They see that the roots go deeper than just a few bad seeds. It's a booming psychological phenomenon that spreads from the Vatican to all across the world.

But, like any good mystery, when they start getting closer they are met with more and more obstacles to overcome. They face pushback from the church, uncooperative sources, and run-ins with lawyers. And then there is a terrorist attack on the World Trade Center and the spotlight reporters are pulled to work on 9/11 reports. It takes a long time for them to get the story right because they know if they don't get it ~right then it will just be buried or overlooked.

They deal with this sensitive material with kindness but also straightforwardness. Their interviews are done as any journalist would - to get to the bottom line. In one interview one of them asks "Did you ever think about telling anyone?" He responds, "Like who, a priest?" These are awful, painful stories about people who were taken advantage of and deeply affected. In the end, it gets to the reporters too. There are some striking emotional scenes where they express the unfairness of the situation and the dire need to tell the public what was going on.

Through the tenacity, the long hours, and the brilliance of this team of reporters, one of the biggest scandals was uncovered and released to the public. The last scene is so emotionally overwhelming and yet also wonderfully understated. When the story is released, the phones at Spotlight are ringing off the hook almost exclusively with victims wanting their story to be told and heard. This is important.

It's a film that ranks alongside the gold standard of journalism films, "All the President's Men." It depicts the journalistic process without glamorizing: it's tough work. Those journalists are out on the streets, going door to door, rummaging through old boxes in libraries and courthouses day in and day out. But through their rigorous work, people who were afraid can have a voice. Their story can be told.

It's a movie about a team and a team made this movie. If the Oscars were to give an award for best performance from a group, this movie would deserve it. No one actor stands out, but they all do their job and get the job done. Other performances include Stanley Tucci, John Slattery, and Liev Shreiber. The many supporting acts come together to build this masterpiece.

Perhaps even more credit is due to director Tom McCarthy who didn't glorify the abuse but didn't minimize the damage. He paced it perfectly and created an intense drama even when the audience knows the outcome. This is one of the best - if not the very best - films of the year. 10/10

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (2011)

"I would find the lock because that was the only way to extend my 8 minutes with him. Maybe I could extend them forever." This quote accurately describes what it's like to grieve. You hold onto small things and memories and ideas in hopes that the person you lost will never fade entirely. It's a journey. A death, for the surviving friends and family, is not a one-time event. It doesn't end at the funeral. It is always just there.

"Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" is an acute examination of grief. 11-year-old Oskar Schell (played by the talented Thomas Horn) lost his father, Thomas (Tom Hanks) to the World Trade Center attack on September 11, 2001. Now a day that lives in infamy to all Americans also lives on as a constant reminder to all those who lost family members on that tragic day.

Oskar finds a key amongst his father's old belongings a year after his death. Through a series of notes, newspaper clippings and clues he wanders around New York into the homes of several strangers (all with the last name Black - a clue) searching for answers. He goesJohn Goodman), lying about the various holidays throughout the school year to accomplish his task. He visits many people and learns many things and makes some new friends. The notion that an 11-year-old boy can wander into the homes of strangers all over New York City safely is incredulous, but some of these visits are impressionable nonetheless. His first visit with an Abby Black (Viola Davis) stands out and sets his journey off on the right emotional foot.
past his doorman (

It is widely understood and recognized that there are five stages to grief. Of course every experience is different but these stages provide a framework for what many people experience when someone they love dies. This story examines those stages through Oskar.

Denial
The day of the attacks, Thomas calls home and leaves messages on the answering machine. Oskar was the only one who heard them and he hides under the bed and lies when his mom asks him about it. He later rips out the answering machine and hides it somewhere and says "it was like it never happened."

Anger
Oskar yells at his mom (Sandra Bullock) in a fury and says he wishes it were her in the building.

Bargaining
When he meets the mysterious renter living in his grandma's basement (Max von Sydow), he explains his story to him as quickly as he can get the words out. "And I don't know a single thing that I didn't know when I started! It's these times I miss my dad more than ever even if this whole thing is to stop missing him at all! It hurts too much." He would do anything to stop missing his dad - to have the pain go away, and so he obsesses over this fool's errand to do something about it.

Depression
Oskar throws a big box of keys in a flurry and runs along a bright red wall. He begins to realize that their search may be futile, and then he listens to those messages again and cries."

Acceptance
In one of the few scenes Oskar shares with his mom, they sit together on the bed and cry together. They (finally) connect with each other and share memories and ~talk. It is the beginning of the road to acceptance.

Director Stephen Daldry is no stranger to stories centered around tragic events ("The Reader" happens during the Holocaust). Though a good storyteller, this movie doesn't leave a hopeful or happy impression, but a depressed one.

This movie is hard to watch. No one wants to know, remember, or feel what it feels like to lose someone. For those who did lose someone at 9/11, I'm so sorry. No film or story can provide the catharsis for such a tragedy and in many ways this film is far too simplistic to make the attempt. Over 4,000 people died that day, and yet these contrived stories try to help us feel happy about the one person who made peace. Those real-life people didn't have a puzzle to solve, they have a family member who is gone. Sometimes it all feels too forced and manipulative with an unclear picture at the end for what the ~point is.

While an interesting analysis on grief with two good performances from Von Sydow and Horn, the film is empty of any solid resolution. 5/10

The Hundred-Foot Journey (2014)

“The Hundred-Foot Journey” is largely a movie about food. It tries to romanticize the kitchen but sadly can’t quite get the audience to get emotional over their dinner like “Ratatouille” or “Babette’s Feast” can. The story of an Indian family opening a restaurant across the street from the French restaurant owned by Madame Mallory - a very, well, chauvinistic French chef stuck in her Frenchiness - tells of intertwining culture and overcoming bias. It is as familiar as it is stereotypical. A re-told story, however, rarely means a bad movie for me. A re-told story with one-note characters and boring, surface-y conflict does.

Helen Mirren and Om Puri are the veteran actors of the ensemble and also the most enjoyable thing to watch on-screen. The casting choice for Madame Mallory is interesting, of course, in that Mirren is not actually French. The weight of Mallory’s domineering character, however, would not have been the same were a lesser-known French actress cast in her stead. Mirren established herself as a regal presence worthy of respect in her Oscar-winning portrayal of Queen Elizabeth in “The Queen.” In “The Hundred-Foot Journey” Papa Kadam even addresses her at one point by saying, “You sit up there like a queen” to point out her self-satisfied, controlling, and entitled demeanor. To help establish Madame Mallory’s character as the standoffish and insensitive neighbor to the Kadam family, the choice to cast Helen Mirren – a well-established, automatic attention-grabbing actress, as well as offering a stark contrast to Puri – was only appropriate.

Likewise, the choice to cast Om Puri was well suited (though perhaps more obvious due to being an Indian actor). He has a great ability to play off the characters around him – particularly Madame Mallory. In one scene, when Madame Mallory grows upset at the loud Indian music, Puri nonchalantly tosses the tablecloth and calmly thanks her for barging into their home. In response to her condescending behavior, he promptly turns the music back up and starts dancing joyfully. This shows pride in his culture and feisty defiance to mistreatment. Their early scenes show the cultural difference with amusing conflict, but unfortunately these scenes are few.

These two performances are great and show an interesting side to the convergence and celebration of culture in the way I wish the food or the story had been able to. I'm sure this theme could have been better illustrated were these two talented actors given more time to interact and carry the story instead of allowing the younger actors and struggling plot filled with clichés to dominate. Manish Dayal plays Papa Kadam's son - the cooking prodigy who goes on to advance his career in other fancy Frenchy restaurants - and Charlotte le Bon plays the sous-chef of Madame Mallory's restaurant. The attempts at a romantic side-story seem half-hearted and unbelievable and both characters seem devoid of passion. It seems the son, Hassan, is the protagonist, but his character is underdeveloped and without much dramatic arc. I was left unsatisfied.

It's a tale as old as time where you know the end as soon as the beginning ensues. But "The Hundred-Foot Journey" brings nothing new to an old story. Any element with potential to enthrall is thrown in with laziness: the humor is brief and mediocre; the story takes no risks. Each actor's talent seems wasted and each potential conflict comes without tension. Of course, mediocre feel-good movies have their place. Nothing particular, though, stands out enough to make me remember it or desire to watch it again.

Ultimately, everything about the movie felt hollow. With Lasse Hallström as director, I expected "Chocolat" 2.0 and with Oprah as an executive producer, I expected something sentimental with a high probability of soap and cheese. I will admit, the time spent watching wasn't unpleasant. I just hoped that a movie with any kind of food subtext would leave me craving and hungry rather than checking my watch. 4/10

The Theory of Everything (2014)

So how well do two biopics about famous British intellects hold well in the same season? Well, as the Oscars have come and gone it seems Eddie Redmayne bested Benedict Cumberbatch for the best actor race, though the "The Imitation Game" was a more satisfying movie. "The Theory of Everything," nevertheless, tells a compelling story of man versus disease and the brilliant performance of Redmayne makes it worth every penny (even if the movie fails to live up to its own title and explore deep into theories on the universe or to portray a satisfying romance).

I wouldn't go so far as to say that this is a one-trick movie, but Eddie Redmayne is certainly the main reason it's worth the time. Redmayne tackles the daunting task of playing Stephen Hawking - a brilliant physicist with Lou Gehrig's disease - with care and precision. It's not easy to play a man with such a limiting physical condition and he seems to not only struggle under the physical limitations but also think and feel as though he were so limited. This is particularly manifest in his astounding and flawless depiction of the degeneration of the disease despite the film not being shot chronologically. His twinkling eyes, however, never falter to show his youthful, intelligent spirit in search of answers about the universe.

Redmayne's performance is reminiscent of Daniel Day Lewis in his famed portrayal of a man with cerebral palsy in "My Left Foot" (1989). This performance, which won Lewis his first Oscar, was only the beginning of an impressive career and there is no doubt that Redmayne's resumé will soon include other noteworthy performances. I am not venturing to say that Redmayne is the next Daniel Day Lewis, but I am anxious to see what comes next in his career.

"The Theory of Everything" shines because of his performance, but there is something dissatisfying about the film primarily focusing on the romance between Hawking and Jane Wilde (gracefully, quietly played by Felicity Jones). It should be noted that the screenplay is based off Wilde's memoirs "Traveling to Infinity: My Life with Stephen" and not Hawking's own book "A Brief History of Time." That makes this a historical romance rather than a philosophical exploration of cosmology. This isn't a bait and switch situation, the trailers clearly marketed it to be such a film. Though his scientific work is much more inspiring than their disheartening romance, the film takes us through their relationship - spanning from their college years, to their marriage, to the birth of their three children, and to their eventual separation. It certainly wasn't a love story to sweep you off your feet or make you feel confident in romance. None of this is inherently bad - the film's honest and poignant take on Jane and Stephen's struggling marriage is as refreshing as it is exhausting. But perhaps I was hoping for a different film.

Hawking's scientific theories are groundbreaking and revolutionary. Though director James Marsh addresses the ideas of black holes, science vs. religion, and quantum mechanics, these themes are only touched upon at surface level. Limited to the romance formula that it subscribes to, it dares not explore beyond the top layer or tap into these theories that significantly impact the human existence. With spiraling camerawork up staircases or following the milk swirl in the coffee, the film teases at dappling into deeper questioning of infinity and space. Though it is possible to convey science for the layman, the film fails to reach its full potential to edify, inspire or provoke critical thinking by sticking to a more conventional story. We catch a glimpse of who Stephen Hawking was, but don't get the full story behind his fame.

"The Theory of Everything" is still an emotional, sophisticated, well-balanced film. The supporting cast was well-chosen, including David Thewlis, Charlie Cox, and Maxine Peake. The lovely Felicity Jones especially stands out with her graceful, yet intense portrayal of a conflicted wife. The cinematography and music also brilliantly come together to cultivate Hawking's quest for a  “simple unifying equation that explains everything in the universe.” So while the movie may not have moved me as a whole, there are elements that did, especially Redmayne. It's a performance piece that, by winning its acting awards, accomplished what it set out to do. However, it is far more preoccupied with its performances than it is with telling a compelling story. 6/10

The Imitation Game (2014)

Morten Tyldum's "The Imitation Game" is based on the biography "Alan Turing: The Enigma" by Andrew Hodges. The movie title, of course, refers to Alan Turing's occupation during World War II working undercover "to break an unbreakable Nazi code and win the war." This British pioneering computer scientist must hide his incredible contribution to the war to protect the integrity of the project. Now we know their efforts to break the Enigma code were successful and we know who was responsible. But as this well-kept British secret remained classified for many years, it's taken some time for people to appreciate the extent of Turing's hand in significantly shortening the war. This is made even more significant when we think of Turing playing not one, but two imitation games. Not only does Turing pretend to have a different job than he does, but Turing pretends he is not a homosexual.

The irony behind this idea of imitation is that Turing's personality is completely unapologetic. With these two large secrets he must hide beneath, he refuses to let any other facade control him. His genius drives his creation of this code-breaking machine he fondly names after his childhood love, Christopher. Though he works with a team of other brilliant minds he compulsively does things his own way and doesn't do anything to suppress his abrasive personality. His coworkers struggle to decipher Turing just as much as they struggle deciphering the Enigma. Turing's sexual orientation, of course, plays a role in his socially awkward behavior, though I don't mean this in a derogatory way. Homosexuality was outlawed in Britain at that time, for Turing to acknowledge who he was would be illegal. Turing plays the game, but not without a breaking point.

Benedict Cumberbatch smartly and complexly plays the role of Alan Turing. Though I have been reluctant to join the Cumberbatch fan-girl bandwagon (which, to be frank, I still don't totally understand), I was impressed by his impeccable portrayal of the troubled mathematician. Turing's odd and disagreeable behavior could easily be dismissed as a dislikable character, but Cumberbatch brings out the endearing side. He allows us to see beyond the surface to triumph with his successes and feel sorrow over his pain.

Cumberbatch is perfectly balanced by Keira Knightley's supporting performance. She plays Joan Clarke, the bright female team member and Turing's close friend. She represents a much needed soft, lighthearted, joyful side to Turing's hard-nosed, serious presence. Knightley manages to capture Joan's struggle between her unfaltering loyalty to Alan with the subtle under-the-surface heartbreak of a love that could never be fully reciprocated. Other supporting performances are notable including Matthew Goode, Mark Strong, and Allen Leech.

The story itself develops like a suspenseful drama with pieces of a puzzle coming together in the manner of slow computers. The tone and pace are brilliantly fitting for a movie set in 1939 at the dawn of computer engineering. Of course the computing process is painstaking and Turing's discoveries take a while to make any real change because what we are witnessing is invention at its purest. Turing's story of technological breakthrough is told in classic flashback fashion, but it doesn't feel overwrought. Starting in 1951 with the intrigue of a police investigation and a defeated Turing suffering prosecution for indecency, to flashbacks of 1939 Bletchley Park (where the bulk of the narrative is focused), and integrating further flashbacks to young, bullied Turing in 1927. The jumbled patchwork of scenes slowly reveal different facets of our main character's life and being to help create this puzzle effect.

Though Turing's homosexuality was important to note in the plot, I was disappointed that the ending changed its focus so much to LGBT rights. Don't get me wrong, I support gay rights. I just thought the idea of homosexuals being subjected to such horrible treatment is, of course, cruel but was already represented implicitly. The explicit closing credits changed what the film was about. It's not a political movement. This is a film to celebrate intelligence.

In fact, this is where "The Imitation Game" succeeds best: in its inspiring depiction of brilliance. Though Alan Turing was a rather socially awkward specimen, he exhibited brilliance in more than just mathematics. Right after he and his team break the Enigma Code, his quick thinking to the responsibility they now held in the war is, in my mind, the time where he proves himself most as a genius worthy of respect. This is one of those movies where you walk away having learned more about a story worth hearing. 8/10

Boyhood (2014)

Any movie that opens with Coldplay's "Yellow," ends with Arcade Fire's "Deep Blue" and includes children going to midnight Harry Potter premieres is a movie after my heart.

I don't know if I can put into words how I felt during "Boyhood." I think a lot of my emotion is connected to being only 3 years older than Mason (Ellar Coltrane). From Britney Spears, to the Iraq War, to Obama-McCain, I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling connected to this real-time reflection of the ideals and fads of my generation. It's much like examining a time capsule. Every single pop culture reference, every toy he had was familiar to me. I remember looking through my window with my pair of yellow binoculars waiting for my dad to come home from work - and then Mason pulls out the exact same pair. My mom even wore the exact same Adidas sweat pants most of my life that Patricia Arquette sports in the beginning. I played dead man on the trampoline. I had an iPod mini and danced to Soulja Boy as a teenager. 

Personal views aside for the moment, "Boyhood" is an incredible feat. It was shot over a 12-year period from 2002-2013 depicting the adolescence of a dreamy and quietly watchful kid who grows into a young man off to college. This project is Richard Linklater's baby, the project he orchestrated but didn't force. He didn't have every detail planned out from day one and every year when the cast and crew would get together for filming, plot points were subject to change based on the previous year's filming and the growth and change of the actors. This unconventional screenwriting process could have ended up feeling incomplete and flighty. But "Boyhood" incredibly manages to capture the feeling of growing up and change with every year of Mason's life that we get to glimpse. It's fiction that is shaped by reality. It's like nothing you've ever seen.

If you look at an old family photo sometimes you feel you are transported automatically back to an event - you remember a funny story or sometimes even a painful one. Other times you look at a photo and don't remember any specific details about why it was taken, but it still fills you with some kind of emotion. "Boyhood" succeeds at depicting both types of "photographs." Think of the film as a whole like a family photo album and each scene is a different photo. We don't get to see everything that happens in the lives of the Evans family, but we get to peruse through some pretty significant images.

Sometimes there is a clear narrative. The movie begins with 6-year-old Mason, his mom Olivia (Arquette), and his bossy older sister Sam (Lorelei Linklater, the filmmaker's daughter). The family ups and moves to Houston so that Olivia can go back to college. The subsequent scenes depicting Olivia's remarriage to her professor Bill (Mark Perella), their blended family, and his turn to alcoholism and abuse are painful, though understandably formative. In this narrative, there is a scene where Bill forces Mason to cut his long hair. This and the subsequent scene where Mason voices his embarrassment to his mom so perfectly capture the essence of adolescence. Who didn't have a bad haircut experience as a kid? It was a gamble to cast Coltrane as a 5-year-old as there was no way to predict what kind of a young adult he would grow into. But he is clearly the star in the most understated way. He is charming but relatable, imperfect but sweet. This touching conversation between mother and son is not like other films where it feels forced, or where it's too witty to relate to. It feels like life.

The true beauty behind "Boyhood," however, is the ability to communicate on an emotionally complex level through the simplest of moments. We all know these type of moments and feelings. They are fleeting and you always wish you could hold on to them after they escape you. A lot of these little moments center around Mason and Sam's relationship with their dad Mason Sr. (Ethan Hawke). Despite his absence in their early childhood, he tries to make it up to them through weekend trips to the bowling alley and occasional awkward conversations about contraception. One particular scene where Mason and his dad go camping perfectly captures what I mean about this type of moment. It's a really simple scene where they bond over music and whether or not there will be another Star Wars movie (ironic). There isn't really a story, but there doesn't need to be. It's just a feeling that can be understood, not quantified. Maybe you've been on a similar camping trip. Maybe you've had a similar conversation. It's a glimpse into real life, and in these moments we realize that these characters are growing up and changing in front of our eyes.

I have never thought much of Hawke in the past. However, he superbly plays the dad character without being too over the top on the "cool-dad" scale. He's a guy with some baggage and he's not always the best dad around, but he tries to make every moment he spends with his kids count. We watch him grow up and mature just as much as we watch his son grow up. The same goes for Arquette, whose acting hasn't impressed me much in the past either. She also proved me wrong and is a lovely presence on the screen. She feels like a real mom who loves and cares for her kids, you know? 

Even with the remarkable acting, this movie would be nothing without Richard Linklater. His directing is revolutionary. He knows how to take such a simple story where nothing much happens, lets it span over 12 years (and a 165 minute running time) and leaves us with a masterpiece. Mason's story is our story. It doesn't matter if we don't love art or if our parents aren't divorced. It's a life that we recognize. It's full of little things and the occasional big thing. I think Linklater's main message here is that life is precious and "Boyhood" made me want to live more. 10/10

Big Eyes (2014)

I am way too much of a feminist to calmly sit through this movie.

After packing up and leaving an abusive relationship, Margaret (Amy Adams) hopes to make a living off of her rather strange paintings of children with largely proportionate eyes in San Francisco. She soon marries Walter Keane (Christoph Waltz) - a sophisticated, charming businessman and occasional painter - who is eager to help her get her art off the ground. It's hard to sell art as a woman (apparently) so the two of them team up and gain some notoriety while selling the paintings under his name.

I loved that this was a throwback to old school Tim Burton. I felt like I was watching "Edward Scissorhands" - not only because the colorful houses and camera angles were reminiscent of the Scissorhands feel, but because Burton played more off of character rather than style. His later work, though I enjoy the quirkiness and weirdness, is much more driven by his artistic eye rather than empathetic characters. That is where "Big Eyes" is different and succeeds: it makes us feel stuff. Obviously Burton wanted us to empathize with the situation and seriously I haven't been so pissed at a movie screen since... Actually, I don't know if I've ever been this pissed at a movie. It really is quite the accomplishment to get the audience to feel that much empathy and anger towards a situation.

However, there's a lot that didn't work. This can mostly be divided into two main parts.

WALTER:
The second he walks onto the screen you aren't fooled. You know he's a dick, and you know he's trouble. He is a... a snake charmer! He coyly eyes Margaret's paintings and compliments her art but you see behind that twitchy smile and overly gregarious laugh. He's charming in a psychopathic way. There's hardly a question of why she chose to stay but rather why did she choose to go with him in the first place? In every other situation where there's an unhealthy relationship involved - be it in real life or in film - there is always something addicting, something to keep you there. From the get go with this relationship, you see no viable reason why she would desire him in her life. He just flat out isn't likable.

Though Christoph Walz tends to play dislikable characters, I have been impressed with his previous roles - particularly in "Inglourious Basterds." In "Big Eyes" I hated his character, but this wasn't even the "love to hate" kind of hate. His portrayal was distracting. He was so terribly over the top that it drew away all attention from Amy Adams' character. Perhaps this was intentional, but I found it annoying rather than functional.

Yes, I was disgusted, yes I hated him with a fiery passion, but I know that I'm the voyeur watching this through rose colored glasses. But are there really no other people in the movie that notice or point out what a dick he is? Not the NYT reporter? Not Margaret's sister? Not Margaret? It seems that his erratic behavior is reflective of the actual Walter Keane, but it's a little much. In the Court room scene at the end, despite the funny judge, I was just embarrassed. How is this even possible? PEOPLE DON'T ACT THIS WAY.

Another side complaint: there is no concept of time at ALL throughout the movie. She picks up and leaves Tennessee, lands in San Francisco a day later? A week? A month? Meets Walter a day later? A week? A month? Gets married three days later? Two weeks? Two months? You know time is passing through Amy Adam's hair change and when little girl actress becomes different teenager actress, but it's hard to get any bearings on the story which was a serious drawback.



MARGARET:
I'm trying reeeeeeeeeally hard to keep my 21st century mind in her seat, but the feminist in me is really freaking out. Man, it was so nauseating. But there is something completely missing from Margaret's character. Amy Adams is an incredibly talented actress. Her eyes can well up without crying, she embodies a character with completeness. But I didn't connect with her emotionally like I really, really wanted to. I felt awful about the situation, I hurt inside that such misogynistic behavior actually existed. But how can I support a character who is so submissive to everything? I'm trying to keep things in their place, and I know it's supposed to capture a different era where women didn't leave their husbands and women didn't assert themselves. But MAN. At the beginning of the movie, she makes a spiel about always being a daughter and a wife and a mother but never her. And I feel like... I still never saw her.

That being said, the point, I'm sure, is that the only outlet for her to be HER is in her art. As she states herself, the eyes are the window to the soul. But there is still no moment, no scene, no dialogue that shows her own emotional connection to her art. In fact, there are hardly any scenes where she is by herself. The only scene where any sort of connection can be felt is in her 15-second-moment with her self portrait. All I really wanted was some kind of speech where she, I don't know, BROKE DOWN or something. I wanted her to scream from the rooftops "These are MY paintings. They mean everything to me because they are my soul. I am a broken woman and the only way I communicate anymore is through these big eyes that you self-fulfilling bastard have taken credit for." I wanted to feel her passion! I wanted to see her like she paints herself. I loved how the paintings told a story by each child getting sadder, but you hardly saw HER change (besides her hair).

Seriously, I just needed something that told me that she was alive. That she was a strong woman. That she was a fighter. I think I was particularly dissatisfied with that because she showed strength in the very first scene where she takes her daughter and leaves for a new life. And she never seems remotely dissatisfied with the fact that she has removed herself so fully from that new life that she set out for herself.

The closing lines for the film are "She loved her daughter and her art and in the end she got both." Another thing that I wanted to feel but simply couldn't has to do with the relationship between that little brainwashed daughter and Margaret. There's no need for me to complain at the obvious improbability that she wouldn't remember her mom painting, but that too was bothersome. Mostly, though, Margaret hardly shows any love for her daughter. She feels guilty for lying, but no motherly care or concern. And man, that child is scarily obedient.

There is something to be said for feeling THIS strongly after watching a movie. But in the end even Jason Schwartzman cameos couldn't help me be satisfied and I don't think I can watch this again any time soon. 5/10

American Sniper (2014)

I have long been a fan of Clint Eastwood's directorial work. Coincidentally, I watched "American Sniper" in the same month that I watched "The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly," "Unforgiven," and "Mystic River" and I'm glad I did. I had been dissatisfied with some of his more recent movies and going back to some of his older ones helped remind me of Eastwood's incredible talent to work with material of epic proportions. Though "American Sniper" isn't without flaws, it is definitely Eastwood's best effort since Gran Torino in 2008.

This is the story of Chris Kyle - the deadliest marksman in US Military history accumulating roughly 160 kills. The film depicts his 4 tours in Iraq, his marriage, and his bouts with PTSD. There will always be movies about the Chris Kyles of the world and there will always be debates on whether they were heroes or not. Some were, some weren't. "American Sniper" is an interesting mix of glorifying the kills and actually delving into the mind of the soldier. For the most part, Eastwood smartly succeeds at not overdoing the former scenario. Yes, he paints an ugly picture of war, and yes the violence is hard to stomach at times. But he does a decent job of commending the heroism while also drawing attention to the problems of the heinous acts of violence that led to problems in Kyle's life.

Of course, this brings us all to the realization of what a comfortable bubble we live in. Maybe that's the point of any war movie, who knows. The most moving part of the entire film was the chilling silence that fell over the theater as the credits rolled. No one spoke as we exited the building. I couldn't help but think about all the little things I complain about on a daily basis. Mostly slow internet connections and the fact that my shampoo and conditioner never run out at the same time. You can't watch a movie like this and expect to un-see all the terrible things that happen without our awareness. I'm not even close to pointing fingers, but there is a fine line between defending your country, defending another man, and simply doing things out of hatred. There's no denying the dialogue depicts some foul-languaged hatred alongside the violence.

I can't talk about that without following it up with some well-earned gratitude. I'm glad I live in a country where I am free to complain about my shampoo running out sooner than my conditioner. I can't begin to understand what horrors soldiers face daily. I cringed at several parts and it made me hyperaware of what I take for granted. I know I don't think about my freedom in Murica often enough.

"American Sniper" also teaches us how real PTSD is. I have only had a little experience with this - I've got a buddy who I've seen go through similar experiences and I know it's rough. And very real. There's a lot going on here that deals with Chris Kyle's difficult transitions to home life between tours. It gets worse throughout the film, but it doesn't manifest itself much in anger or nightmares but just in apathy and numbness. It's like whatever Kyle doesn't feel, we feel on his behalf and man, do we want things to work out better for him. He finds a purpose in protecting his team and America. He lacks a similar driving purpose at home. I think it's good for us to be aware of how much these soldiers sacrifice - and Eastwood intelligently let's Kyle's life story develop itself in a natural way.

Early in the movie, 10-year-old Chris's father tells him that there are three types of people: sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. He told the young Chris that he would fall into the third category - the sheepdog who ensures that predators don't eat the innocent. With that metaphor in mind, we can appreciate this decorated seal's scope view on some compromising and intense situations. I can't really say that Bradley Cooper delivers a breakthrough performance because he had already established himself as an actor we can stand behind and respect. However, there was something even more moving about his portrayal than I had seen before. He doesn't just mimic, he becomes and connects. The other supporting performances (particularly Sienna Miller as his wife) - though good - are mostly just background noise.

It's easy with these biopics to point out all the discrepancies between the on-screen depiction and the real subject. With a little help from Wikipedia everyone is ready to point fingers at the omissions in the plot and Kyle's character. But I'm willing to look past all of that. People and critics sometimes forget that their job is to analyze what "American Sniper" offers as a movie. And as a movie, though a little on-the-fence with what message it wants to send out, it does its job.

Clint Eastwood knows the formula to deliver a typical Oscar contender. It is definitely worthy of praise, but I would have liked to see a little more catharsis and redemption with Chris Kyle's character in the end (I'm not sure I agree with the notion that PTSD can be recovered from in a matter of months and acts of good will) and nothing quite took away the encroaching sadness of this great and terrible movie. 7/10

Gone Girl (2014)

Gillian Flynn's 2012 mystery novel is masterfully intricate and deeply layered. It turns out Flynn is just as talented at writing for the screen as she is writing novels and she and director David Fincher (both with an apparent predilection for dark mysteries) team up to create this delightfully haunting adaption. Similarly to my experience with previous Fincher films, I was floored. And really concerned for my safety on my drive home. And had me rethinking my life plan to ever get married.

On the day of his fifth wedding anniversary, Nick Dunne's wife Amy (Ben Affleck & Rosamund Pike) goes missing. Her disappearance triggers a lot of press coverage and the further the police investigate the more suspicious details are uncovered. Police investigators (lead by the beautifully understated Kim Dickens) try to remain objective but soon the evidence all seems to point to Nick. His awkward camera behavior doesn't help his image and soon enough the public as well as the police are turned against him. This creates an interesting view into how the public's perception of a story can influence the way it unfolds. No one ever openly suggests that Nick has any hand in her disappearance until the pressure amounts to such that Nick counters, "I did not kill my wife." Whatever reserved suspicion I had at the beginning of the movie towards Nick turns up to full capacity with that quip. But ultimately his conduct - though shady - is not what garners the audience's suspicion, but the way the press perceives and interprets his conduct.

Amy is still a recurring presence throughout the movie as the narrative of the investigation is juxtaposed with flashbacks via Amy's diary entries. Amy narrates us through significant milestones in their romance and the beginnings of an unraveling marriage. For a character who is supposed to be missing, Amy is still very much a part of this story. It's her story that she is passive-aggressively orchestrating. With every new flash back, this dark and sexy mystery gets even more complicated. It's a storybook romance (complete with sugar-kisses) that crashes and burns and gets crazy in the worst possible way. Happily ever after turns sinister when *spoilers* "Amazing Amy" goes from doe-eyed princess to a manipulative sociopath.

I've got to say that I have never thought much of Rosamund Pike in the past, but she is absolutely phenomenal in this role. "Gone Girl" is so fun because it's full of surprises. I'll talk about Fincher's hand in this later, but Amy's character arc is the main feature on this crazy ride. Pike embodies this fascinating and jawdropping-ly manipulative character with a commanding and powerful air. Her eyes tell the story, but even her eyes conceal some amount of the truth. Nothing she says can be taken at face value and you don't realize it until she's driving down the highway tossing pens out the window. Her conduct is appalling, unbelievable and unpredictable in the most unsettling way. This type of erratic behavior is hard to capture on screen but Pike does so without flaw and with a disturbing realism. It's not very often where I don't spot a twist that significant coming, and Pike certainly deserves an Oscar nom for her sick manipulation of the characters and the audience.

Of course, this is no unfamiliar territory to the director of "Fight Club," "Zodiac" and "The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo." When I go into a Fincher movie I have come to expect to walk out feeling like I have just been on a roller coaster ride. I mean this mentally and emotionally but also physically. "Gone Girl" pushed this idea to new extremes as I exited the theater feeling actually nauseous - it was that unsettling. Part of this comes from my already building fear of marriage and I would be lying if I said it didn't totally freak me out that you could know someone for over 5 years and still not know that they are psychotic. But it's not just the idea that is creepy, it's the tone, the dark cinematography and the unnerving music that chilled me to the very core.

On another note, the casting choices were impeccable. Though Rosamund Pike's performance is the stand out, every other pick was spot on. This is by far my favorite Ben Affleck role and he delivers in such a way as to invoke both suspicion and sympathy. His careful, subdued performance is a good complement for Pike. Other stand out performances include Carrie Coon as Nick's loyal sister, Neil Patrick Harris as Amy's stalker ex Desi (should have taken Barney Stinson's advice on the crazy/hot scale) and Tyler Perry as Nick's lawyer. Perry is certainly the most surprising casting choice, but he is a treat to watch.

Just when you think the craziness must be over, the end throws you for a final loop (again with the nausea thing - and really it feels like our roller coaster ride reached an unfinished track and we were jettisoned off the side to crash). As unhappy as the end is, and though the catharsis seems little and dissatisfying, I can't picture it ending any differently. "Gone Girl" gave me what I expected and more, with every scene and every new character introduced I was thrown for a loop and I couldn't help but think that Fincher was having the time of his life keeping us guessing. I cannot remember a time where I have finished a movie feeling so disturbed - yet I still wanted more. And there's something to be said for that. 9/10

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? (1967)

"Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" is, simply put, the story of two families overcoming their concerns of an interracial marriage in one single evening. It's certainly a drama. And yet the situation provides for undeniable comedic opportunities. Disregarding whatever genre it may be, Stanley Kramer's iconic film is a celebration of two of Hollywood's greatest stars.

When Joanna "Joey" Drayton (Katharine Houghton) comes home from her two-week vacation with the handsome, successful - and black - Doctor John Prentice (Sidney Poitier) on her arm, the engagement is met with mixed reactions. To the viewer in the 21st century, this match seems clearly promising. He's rich, they're in love, what's the big deal? However, in 1960's San Francisco, even to a liberal family this kind of news is met with some shock.

Joey's mother Christina (Katharine Hepburn) takes the news rather well after the initial surprise. With a shaky "pleased to meet you" and a wide-eyed glance at the camera, she recovers quickly after taking a minute to sit down and eagerly supports Joey's decision. This is a stark contrast to the "what the hell is going on here?" response from Mr. Drayton (Spencer Tracy).

Kramer intentionally designed Poitier's character to be so perfect and upstanding that the only possible reason to object to the marriage would be on the issue of race. And it is so easy to love Poitier. His charming demeanor, perfect smile and chivalrous character are enchanting. (As an aside, it is unbelievable that he was not nominated for this nor "In the Heat of the Night" that same year). However, it's almost as if the plot is structured like a trifle cake. With each layer, the situation becomes even more absurd and finally the absurdity overflows. Even disregarding the laughable length of their 10-day courtship (though this didn't actually bother me - I'm a Mormon and I see that all the time with my peers), the absurdity reaches its limit when the two lovebirds place a deadline on the two shocked parents. Not only do they wish approval for the engagement, but they demand approval before their 10 pm flight to Geneva. Really? You can't give them a week? A day, even?

To add to the overflow, Joey invites John's parents (Beah Richards & Roy Glenn) to join for dinner. Besides my growing dislike for the crazy situation, the scenes involving John and his parents - particularly his father - were especially bothersome. The idea that is presented in John's conversations with his father and with Joey's is that this isn't about race but about pride. It's an issue that would be interesting to explore, but sadly is manipulatively executed. The dialogue is poorly constructed and accusatorially delivered. I would have liked to have seen this film more à la style of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf" which was also centered around a dinner. What "Woolf" has that "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" lacks is a building character tension driven by their interactions. The tension present in Kramer's film is manipulative and driven by absurd plot details rather than the dialogue and lacks the character development and the wit. I applaud the film's bravery for addressing a then controversial issue, but it would have been better without the artificiality behind the plot constraints.

My last complaint for this already flawed movie is in Joey's character. Perhaps it's a cop-out to label the pretty blonde as annoying but is anyone else with me on this? It's hard to stomach her high pitched voice and entitled attitude for two hours. Katharine Houghton is beautiful to be sure but her performance is too bubbly and overwhelming. I give it 2 weeks in Geneva before the distinguished Dr. Prentice ditches her.

As I stated earlier, this film is much more than a discussion on racial stereotypes. It's all about the nostalgia for two beloved stars. This is the ninth and final pairing for Hepburn and Tracy. In fact, the filming for "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" ended just 17 days before Tracy's death. It has been noted that Hepburn refused to see the final cut because it was too emotional for her (I'm going to pretend like I understand their "partnership" but really I don't. 27-year affair? Good friends?) I have tried for years to like Katharine Hepburn, and though I can find nothing faulty about her performances, there is simply something about her overdramatic portrayals that rub me the wrong way. I don't like the way she talks and I don't like that she won an Oscar for this when Anne Bancroft clearly should have won for "The Graduate."

Besides Sidney Poitier's enjoyable performance, the main attraction is clearly Spencer Tracy. I've seen a lot of Tracy's early work including his Oscar-winning performances in "Boy's Town" and "Captains Courageous." What has struck me about Tracy is the instant credibility he brings to the screen. His open countenance and striking eyes invite the audience to trust him. His performance as Matthew Drayton is no different. I felt connected to his character while he mulled over his looming decision while eating Fresh Oregon Boysenberry Sherbet at the local drive thru. Of course his performance is made more poignant with his death, and when he delivers his moving speech at the close of the film, you can't help but believe him.

Unfortunately despite my love for these two great actors, this movie is simply too unbelievable for me to truly enjoy it. 5/10

Other notes:
Directed by Stanley Kramer
Won Academy Awards for Best Actress (Katharine Hepburn), and Best Writing Original Story and was nominated for Best Picture, Best Actor (Spencer Tracy), Best Supporting Actor (Cecil Kellaway), Best Supporting Actress (Beah Richards), Best Director (Stanley Kramer), Best Art Direction, Best Film Editing, and Best Music
It was ranked #99 in AFI's Top 100 Years... 100 Films list in 1998

Birdman (2014)

It's quirky as hell, but the phenomenal acting performances keep it afloat.

We are first introduced to washed up actor Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton) sitting cross-legged in midair in his tighty-whities. The voice of Birdman - the action hero he is famous for playing - is taunting him, the voice seemingly coming from a movie poster. No, it doesn't make sense but this unnatural power his former alter ego holds over him is a recurring theme throughout Riggan's story arc. Riggan has decided to try and reinvent his career by adapting, directing, and starring in Raymond Carver's play "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love." Replace Riggan with Michael and Birdman with Batman and you have the fictionalized version of Michael Keaton's story. I kept thinking to myself, "you know, this movie is a little weird... but good for Michael Keaton!"

We're thinking the same thing about Riggan's character. It seems the gods are against him and the play hits several bumps on its way to production. Mid rehearsal the main actor is hit on the head and hospitalized leaving Riggan without a lead. Another cast member Lesley (Naomi Watts) suggests famous method actor Mike Shiner (Edward Norton). When Shiner joins the cast, it appears he is just as difficult to get along with as Norton himself. He has undeniable acting pizazz when he feels like it, but can be quite the downer when he doesn't. This provides for many entertaining scenes between Mike and Riggan while we reach the heart of Mike's character in his exchanges with Riggan's daughter Sam (Emma Stone) who has been recently released from rehab. In fact, these simple conversations and truth or dare games are more touching than anything else we feel from the other characters. These were the scenes where I actually felt connected to what was happening on the screen. Sadly, there wasn't quite enough Norton and Stone to go around and I don't know if I ever fully invested myself into the plot on the emotional level I wanted to.

I really want to like this movie. But I'll be honest, I feel like I must be missing something major because there are so many little pieces to this work that I love. I mean, you've got great supporting performances from Zach Galifanakis, Andrea Riseborough, and Amy Ryan, you've got a talented director Alejandro González Iñárritu to brew up a perfect mixture of comedy, and tragedy (a lighter side compared to his "Biutiful" or "Babel"), and you get to see Michael Keaton walk around in his underwear. So maybe I just don't get it the way I'm supposed to?

Where "Birdman" did manage to sweep me away was with its mesmerizing camerawork. I haven't seen anything like that since Alfred Hitchcock's "Rope"(which was filmed in ten 10-minute long takes). I felt like the voyeur spying on these actors' lives and following them around while they take care of their business. Though the tracking camera felt intrusive and somewhat pervading, it was a fun and different experience to feel like I was actually there.

This, however, was the only thing special thing about "Birdman." As much as I can appreciate its quirks and its phenomenal acting, there is still something that falls short for me to consider it more than an overhyped and overpraised art film. 6/10

Stand By Me (1986)

"Do you guys want to go see a dead body?" Everyone stopped. It's the summer of 1959 in Castlerock, Oregon and a local boy has gone missing. 12-year-old Vern (Jerry O'Donnell), overweight, timid and bullied, approaches his three friends Gordie, Chris, and Teddy with the proposal for the ultimate summer adventure to find the body and collect the reward. Rob Reiner's adaptation of Stephen King's novella "The Body" exquisitely captures the vulnerability of youth and the heart of true friendship in this simple yet sweeping story.

This troubled but carefree band of brothers rely on each other through summer days with contraband cigarettes in their treehouse for a home. Our narrator Gordie (Wil Wheaton) is coping after the recent death of his older brother and subsequent neglect at home. Teddy (Corey Feldman) nearly had his ear burned off by his father who is now confined to a mental institution. Chris (River Phoenix) is beaten by his alcoholic dad and regularly stereotyped as a criminal. These boys are there for each other through the deep stuff that troubles youth but doesn't screw them up enough to ruin summer fun just yet. They set off with backpacks, Cokes, and Converse shoes and through episodes with leeches in the river, close calls with trains, and quintessential stories by the campfire, these boys are brought closer together like nothing but shared experience of searching for a dead body can. This is more than band camp.

Everything is just so incredibly real. These kids are at the bridge between boyhood and maturation. They talk about the greater issues of life, "Hey guys! What animal IS Goofy anyway?""You think Mighty Mouse could beat up Superman?" in the poignant campfire scene. But though they laugh at the hysterical tale of "Lardass" anyone can see that the true issues of family instability and uncertain futures plague over them. I've never been a 12-year-old boy, but I can still relate to many of their pre-teen ideals. I remember what it was like to bury real pain and shake off real issues with fantasy games with my friends. (On that note - why is that that there are no stories about groups of girls? Just a thought).

River Phoenix has never acted this great, and the scene between Chris and Gordie stands as a defining moment not just for the climax of the movie, but for all of childhood. Maybe you didn't have a friend like that, but you certainly wanted one. He is the rock of the group and knows how to calm fears and invoke courage in one conversation. The heart of this movie are the characters and Reiner nailed it with his acting picks. These kids can handle heavy scenes like pros. Will Wheaton's delivery is neither forced nor contrived but is still deliberate and emotional. His excellent acting is coupled with one of Kiefer Sutherland's better performances as the local bully, Ace. 

Ace: "What are you gonna do? Shoot us all?"

Gordie: "No, Ace. Just you."

With characters we can fall in love with, a script that is sharp, raw, & realistic, and cameos from Richard Dreyfuss and John Cusack you have yourself a movie that will stay with you. Honestly, I don't know what it is about it that gets me every time. It's been nearly six years since I saw it for the first time and there is something timeless about it that touches me and has resonated with me. Maybe it's the nostalgic music. Maybe it's because it reminds me of summer. Stand By Me can rest with the likes of To Kill a Mockingbird and The Man in the Moon as one of the greatest and most timeless coming of age stories around. I am a sucker for these poignant stories bc THE FEELS. And every time I watch it, I am reminded of the friends with whom I've shared something. 9/10

"I never had any friends later on like the ones when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?" 

American Psycho (2000)

Everyone day-dreams. It's automatic. To fantasize is an exciting ability of our psyche that many of us thrive off of. Think about it. Every time you go on a date there's probably a before, during, and/or after day-dream of some sort. There certainly is for me. Before a date my mind goes through a best-case/worst-case scenario and I wander to the realm of what-if's. What if he kisses me? What if I say something witty that makes him laugh? What if he doesn't like me, what if he tries to take advantage of me? What if I punch him? Yeah, that would be pretty funny... Then there's the after-date fantasies. You replay over and over in your mind the things that happened and you dream about what didn't happen. You dream about what it was like to kiss them or what it would have been like to kiss them or what it would have been like to go further. In the mind there's no such thing as jumping to conclusions too quickly - everything is fair game. Pretty soon, though, you're criss-crossing reality with fantasy and you can hardly distinguish what was real and what wasn't. It doesn't matter if it actually happened or if it is all fake because in your mind everything is real. To quote Albus Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, "Of course it is happening inside your head... But why on earth should that mean that it is not real?" 

Our mind and our imagination are absolutely incredible. Sometimes dreams, or even day-dreams, can haunt us, though, and be so invasive that they creep into our reality. Our minds, in essence, affect our existence. What we imagine combined with what is real can change the way we view people and situations. The idea of imagination mixed with reality is explored and examined in American Psycho. 

Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale) is a 20 something Wall Street yuppie living his own American dream. On the surface he has everything going for him. He's attractive and healthy, he's got a hot fiancée (Reese Witherspoon), and he's living in Manhattan and making the big bucks as an investment banker. Every morning he wakes up and goes through his same beautification routine using 20 different gel cleansers and exfoliating lotions. He does his stretching, his yoga, his push ups and sit ups. He is the American dream. But there's something hiding behind his perfect exterior. His appearance and careful selection of his business card or his watch ("don't touch the watch") is a metaphor for his materialistic drive into nothingness for he gains no emotional reward. "There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable... I simply am not there." 

You see, this man who has it all is also a sadistic murderer. It's nothing overly premeditated - it's just something to do. It's a stress relief after a day in the office. Some people go on shopping sprees, Bateman goes on killing sprees. "I just had to kill a lot of people!" This drastic change in the typical Wall street routine puts the "psycho" in this American story. It's graphic, it's unsettling, and you can't take your eyes off any of it.

If you'll allow me to step back momentarily I want to make it clear that most of the time that I was watching American Psycho, I had no idea what the hell was going on. Even now - after watching it three times, writing and re-writing drafts on drafts on drafts of blog posts - I still don't have a clue what the hell was going on. But director Mary Harron and author Bret Eastman have succeeded in getting me to think for hours about the man who works in murders and executions - I mean mergers and acquisitions. 

I'll come back to Patrick. 

Here's the thing: the more you watch it (and really, I don't necessarily recommend watching it more than once - twice TOPS) the more you question. Nothing can be taken at face value, and that is where the worth lies in this masterpiece - albeit a flawed masterpiece. It succeeds in its agenda as an over-the-top satirical commentary on yuppies and greed and I must admit there was some entertainment value embedded in the disturbing over-the-toppery of Christian Bale and his business constituents (including Jared Leto, Justin Theroux, Josh Lucas, and Bill Sage). But at the end of the day, the question remains: what was real?

What is over-the-top on the surface is even more exaggerated and grotesque in the mind of our protagonist - assuming that these murders were, in fact, a figment of Bateman's imagination. This conclusion is shared by many, though the ending is meant to be ambiguous. Of course these brutal murders being imaginary is not apparent throughout the film despite the outrageous circumstances surrounding his threesome with two prostitutes and the subsequent physical abuse, his chasing a girl through an apartment suite butt naked with a chain saw and the praise he is given by a homeless victim whom Bateman blatantly insults and, well, murders. 

That's because everything is from HIS perspective and from HIS mind. It's all terribly real to Patrick. Not only is it real, but it's perfect. He insults with wit and timeliness. He sleeps with beautiful women and the sex is perfect. His murders are ravenous and maniacal but they feed his appetite. For a while after I saw this movie I came to believe that the murders were actually real just glorified in Patrick's crazed mind. It is all too crazy to be 100% real, but perhaps some of it was - only less perfectly executed and not so uncannily timed to Huey Lewis and the News. I might add, though, that the incredible use of soundtrack is strong evidence that this is actually happening in his head. Like, he's sitting on his leather couch plugged in to Whitney Houston and day dreaming about his next killing spree.

However, as soon as that ATM starts telling him to insert a kitten instead of a card and a police car just explodes, everyone's dropping eff bombs realizing that things aren't adding up anymore. Your expression of disbelief mirrors that of Patrick's as he stares at the exploding car and showing - for the first time in the movie - a sense of fear and bewilderment. It's as if he, too, realizes that reality and fantasy are merging and he can't believe what he is seeing anymore. With some superb acting by Christian Bale, Patrick shows vulnerability in just one expression. Despite how disgusted we are with his character, we see that there is a soul beneath this twisted, mentally insane man.

The problem that I see with this theory - the "everything wasn't real" theory - is that there is no barrier between what WAS real and what WASN'T. Take, for example, detective Donald Kimball (Willem Dafoe). Is that character completely made up? Is he a product of Bateman's mind reacting to his psychological deterioration? Because seriously when he pulls out that Huey Lewis CD you know that it can't be happening. Can it? Was he there? Who was there?

Also, the blood on the sheets? If that scene at the laundromat WASN'T real, then why was it even included? I'm just saying.

The only character I'm positive is not made up is the secretary, Jean (Chloe Sevigny). The scene where he takes her out and nearly murders her (all the while cracking Ted Bundy jokes) is another example of the lines between reality and fantasy being merged and indistinguishable. There is something real and tangible about that relationship - something not found in his interactions with any other character. Chloe Sevigny plays the genuine, soft-spoken secretary well and allows us to emotionally connect with someone more familiar to us.

The consistent theme of mistaken identity is the key to making any sense of the meaning behind the ambiguity. The humorous scene with the business cards is the most telling scene of American Psycho. The businessmen discussing the wording, embossing, color, thickness, engraving and typefaces are merely suits - their rivalries are over cards and dinner reservations, not over actual people. It's always someone who looks like someone else, a name forgotten, and a reputation without a face. No one remembers anyone's names because everyone looks the same, dresses the same, and has similar jobs. No one has individuating qualities. It's hard to follow the dialogue with Bateman and his colleagues because they keep calling each other by different names. If Patrick was actually a murderer, it essentially doesn't matter because no one cares enough about what's going on in each other's lives to do something about it. 

This theme could also be an argument for the reality of the murders. Bateman's therapist claims he ate lunch with Paul Allen in London after Bateman murdered him - this could be because it didn't actually happen or it could be because the therapist can't remember who Paul Allen is either. Bateman tries to confess but no one listens because no one cares. Paul Allen's apartment is for sale because it's been vacated of its previous occupant (dead) and the real estate agent would rather lie about finding dead bodies than decrease the value in the apartment. Perhaps the message is in the incredulity at such a self-absorbed, shallow society depicted to extremes with bright crimson blood splatters.

Which is right? Was it real or was it in his head? Unfortunately either conclusion pertaining to the reality of the events comes with plot holes and so it's difficult to come to a firm conclusion. But I don't think there is one right answer. I think that both sides are intertwined in this ambiguous message - the reality and the fantasy are mixed and indistinguishable just like in our day-dreams. I do think that most of the action is going on in his head, but that doesn't make it any less real.

The ideas and character study are fascinating and ultimately the film works because of Christian Bale's incredible performance. There is no self-preservation in his acting and he allows the audience to hate Bateman's despicable character without guile. It's a breakthrough performance for the future Bruce Wayne and Academy Award Winner. American Psycho is incredible in the realm of its own agenda. It's a graphic and gruesome commentary and a wild, amusing ride, if you can stomach it. Now I've got to go return some videotapes. 7/10