Review of Another Year

What It Is a review by Caitlin Murphy

I’ve always been intrigued (read: suspicious) when people opine that something is “good for what it is.” The expression sounds incomplete somehow, as though the speaker really wants to add a closing parenthetical comment: “(which is bad).” “Good for what it is,” when I’ve heard it or used it myself, feels like a vague apology for not liking something more, or else a need to identify as someone who can intellectually recognize quality even when one is emotionally unmoved by it.

The Oscars

The Kids Aren’t All Right by Caitlin Murphy

When I was twelve years old and watching the Academy Awards, something amazing happened: Daniel Day-Lewis won the Best Actor award for his portrayal of Christy Brown, a writer with cerebral palsy, in My Left Foot. Having seen the film and been in awe of his performance, I was thrilled. Beyond thrilled though, I remember feeling a deep belief that something right had happened. Never a sports fan, unable yet to vote, I felt rewarded for my convictions the way I imagined other true-blue supporters might. My passionate rooting had paid off, and the resulting feelings of glory – though ultimately vicarious – were no less visceral. I have ever since loved the Oscars, and looked forward to watching them every year. And in response to those who would drone on to me about how the awards were political, or rigged, or unfair, or just plain stupid, I had nothing really to say; I simply held onto that pleasure I experienced in caring deeply about my favourite films and actors, and wanting so much to see them acknowledged: someone needed to tell Daniel Day-Lewis how great he was, simply because I couldn’t.

This year’s Oscars sucked. Sucked so hard that I might not be coming back.

Caitlin's Review of Blue Valentine

Love hurts and so will this by Caitlin Murphy

I have long suspected it. And now that I have official confirmation, I can confess: I hate movies about couples. More specifically, I hate movies that chart the evolution and inevitable dissolution of couple relationships. I’m still in the midst of refining this category, so bear with me. Comedies don’t count; Annie Hall for instance: safe. And brilliant masterworks don’t count either; Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf: also safe. But movies like Revolutionary Road, and, recently, Blue Valentine: danger, danger, danger. You know that people will say horrible, irretractable things to one another; painfully awkward attempts at physical intimacy will be made; alcohol will feature prominently; third parties will linger seductively in the wings; long-suspected truths, hitherto too awful to admit, will finally be revealed; and last ditch efforts will be hurled across the kitchen. And. All. For. What?

Sick, no flick

Due to illness this week, we didn't get to catch a movie, hence no reviews. Looking forward to getting back at it tomorrow!

Caitlin's Review of The Fighter

HEAVY-WEIGHT ACTOR,
LIGHT-WEIGHT FILM by Caitlin Murphy

I don’t know much about boxing, but it strikes me that to be any good at it you have to be pretty nuts. (Hell, any inkling to go near a boxing ring is a brand of crazy in my books). Acting’s rather similar though. After all, when your entire M.O. is an intense commitment to pretending to be someone else, mental health issues can’t be looming too far off. Christian Bale is an absolute nut-bar. And I love him for it. Were I his mother or girlfriend, I would surely fret over his oft-cited obsessive approach to character. Thankfully, as a mere audience member, I sit happily in awe.

Brian's Review of The Fighter

Two For One by Brian Crane

The Fighter is an easy movie to like. And I did. Thing is, though, I’m not sure it’s very good.

The problem is that there are really two movies here. The first is Christian Bale’s, and it’s just your basic addiction-of-the-week story. In this case, a washed up boxer-become-crack addict wrecks his life while creating endless problems for his longsuffering family. The interest is in the spectacle of people’s silence, a mother’s complicity, the ugliness of rock bottom. To the extent there is drama, it is predictable and uncomplicated, leading from a jail cell epiphany to recovery to reconciliation, step by step by step.

Brian's Review of True Grit

Like They Used to Make Them
by Brian Crane

1.
The Coen brothers have immense narrative gifts and a natural sense of genre. They work squarely in the highest traditions of classical cinema. True Grit is a virtuoso performance of this style of filmmaking. The only break from the invisibility of the narration for most of the film is the achingly beautiful landscape photography. Is the image desaturated or the landscape merely colorless?