A movie I’d like to see

This looks like a relevant and interesting documentary: The Last Picture Shows. It’s about all those small town movie houses that still exist, even as Hollywood tries to strangle us all.

Filmmaker Rustin Thompson journeys into the American West on a search for traces of what was once a center of small-town life: the movie theater. On the trip, he finds long abandoned and forgotten cinemas; movie houses that have fallen into disrepair; theaters recently closed, theaters struggling to hold on, and theaters that—thanks to their thoughtful caretakers—are not only surviving but thriving. Between the stops along the way, Rustin poetically intersperses excerpts from Peter Bogdanovich’s 1971 classic film The Last Picture Show, as well as reflections on past and present hardships facing the film exhibition industry. The Last Picture Shows is not only a timely portrait of an industry in crisis, one facing the headwinds of consolidation, streaming, and the diminishing theatrical experience, but it also reminds viewers that even in vast cinema deserts, there are oases of community and gathering that remain, where the movie house continues to be a place of wonder, contemplation, and connection.

There were actually two centers of small-town life in Morris, the railroad station and the theater. The railroad station is a wreck right now, with no passenger rail service to our town. The theater probably fits into the category of “struggling to hold on,” but we are currently in the black, just barely. We’ve got costly plans to revitalize the theater right now, mostly mundane stuff like a $30,000 expense to repair the roof, and further down the road we plan to remodel the run-down restrooms, and update the marquee. These are daunting costs, especially for an institution only this year boasted a net profit of about $5000. We figure if we keep plugging away, pennies at a time, we’ll eventually get there.

Meanwhile, the next closest theater in the small town of Benson, the DeMarce Theater, has a “For Sale” sign posted. I don’t know if they’re failing, or if the owners are just aware of how much work it takes to keep these businesses afloat.

Double-feature at the bijou

My wife, Mary, is from a family with two sisters, and they taught me the meaning of sisterhood. Back in the 80s and 90s when we’d occasionally have family get-togethers that I dreaded: three sisters in one place with their mother, and they’d talk nonstop from the instant they walked through the door. Imagine four women chattering non-stop — I was shocked to discover that they didn’t take turns talking, they over-talked one another incessantly, and all I could hear was a high-pitched excited babble that never ended or resolved into actual comprehensible conversation. To me. They seemed to know exactly what everyone was saying.

I was not alone. Mary’s father, who was a veteran US Marine who’d fought in all the major Pacific battles in WWII, would sit quietly, slowly sinking into our chairs as the sonic assault continued. He had the advantage of years of training and intense combat experience, and also more years with these four women than I ever had. Me, I was the fresh meat, the raw recruit who could only learn by suffering through the engagement. We came out of it alive, together.

I bring this up as background because I did a double-shift at theater last night, and the first movie I saw was Practical Magic 2, a movie I’d never heard of, nor had I heard of Practical Magic 1, but it must have been popular, since it featured A-list stars, Sandra Bullock, Nicole Kidman, Dianne Wiest, etc. It’s all about sisterhood among a family of cursed witches, cursed to never fall in love. The waves of estrogen were gushing off the screen, but my training at family gatherings helped me persevere. The cast was almost exclusively women.

There was one earnest, caring boy at the beginning, but the daughter he was dating made the mistake of saying “I love you” to him, triggering the family curse and sending him out on a bicycle to be run over by a truck, so that he spent the rest of the movie in a coma, conveniently. I was thinking that they’d never have this problem if they lived in the Midwest, rather than New England, because here we’re all emotionally repressed and never communicate our feelings.

The rest of the movie is a trio of family witches stumbling about crumbling ruins in the English countryside, looking for a cure for the curse. There is magic involved, and many whispered conversations where they overtalk one another. They do find one possibly helpful man, but they take him out with a frying pan to the back of the head and a sleeping potion, so he’s not cluttering up the climax of the movie. There is a third man, but he’s the villain, naturally.

There’s a battle where the three witches join psychic hands and use the power of love and sisterhood against a screaming, ranting man. I’ll let you guess how it ends up.

Was the movie any good? I don’t know. The magic was nonsense and was only conjured up when the plot needed it, the story was pure schmaltz, but from the outside looking in, I can empathize and comprehend how a story of sisters working together could appeal. My wife wants to go see it now, so I might be seeing it again.

The second movie was more my style: Resident Evil. One man, battling a series of indescribable horrors, alone, with virtually no conversation the entire movie. He’s on a solo mission to deliver a vital component to the Umbrella Corporation in Raccoon City, and that’s absolutely all you need to know about the plot. I just nailed it. Do I need to go on?

OK, a little more explanation. Umbrella Corp has ‘accidentally’ released a horrific virus that has spread through the population. This virus doesn’t exactly zombify everyone (I’m tired of zombie movies), but is instead a kind of infectious body horror disease. People fuse into these disgusting masses of limbs and heads that try to snarl everyone into a gooey corrupted form by biting or spewing bloody filaments or ropes of intestinal glop.

The best part of the movie to me was the protagonist, who was doggedly running this mission while maintaining a constant mumbling running monolog of profanity, consisting of mainly repeated variants of the word “fuck”. It was beautiful. I identified perfectly with his character — that’s exactly what I would do if I had to run through a city full of slimy predatory body parts. I wouldn’t be an action hero, I wouldn’t know how to use the guns he picks up, just like the protagonist, but I would be angrily railing against the situation under my breath.

The bottom line: not a great movie, lacking any depth at all, but just about a perfect capture of a standard video game scenario.

It was an interesting pairing of two movies that are more or less the antithesis of each other. What I’d like to see now is a synthesis — it’s going to take a lot of slime and blood and horrific gore, but if there were a fusion of a sisterhood power movie with that guy constantly snarling “fuck” as he tried to figure out what was going on, I’d watch it.

Is Primeval worth watching?

I tried watching this old BBC series with an interesting premise: strange, random anomalies keep popping up around Great Britain, providing temporary two-way passages to and from the distant past. It’s a great set up for a monster-of-the-week series, as ancient creatures pop up and terrify the locals and give the scientist protagonists opportunities to travel to the past. I like the idea!

But then, in the very first episode, Cutter, who is searching for his wife lost in the past, finds a human skeleton in the dirt, he quickly runs his fingers over the rib cage, and announces, “It’s not her. It’s a male.” Say what? Do the writers have the bad idea that men and women differ in the number of ribs? That would be embarrassingly bad.

I braved the second episode, which features giant ancient spiders! Way to sidle past my doubts, writers. These spiders have massive chelicerae which seem to be orthognathous, much like those found in tarantulas (the Aranea are labidognathous, and can pinch their pointy little fangs together.) Some people are bitten and envenomed, and some dork suggests that they can’t be spiders, they must be scorpions, which is silly, since scorpions have relative small chelicerae. I had to stop there, because the credibility of the scientific contributions of the writing team is about nil at this point.

For those of you familiar with the show, is it worth it for me to continue? I’m here for relaxing entertainment, not exercising my arm shaking my fist at the TV.

Friday Night at the Movies

Last night, I watched Coyote vs. Acme. Of course it was good! The plot was simple, the nostalgia was elevated, the cartoons were familiar, and violence was absurd and straight out of the 1950s. Take your kids, they’ll have a grand time! Although, to be fair, if you don’t have kids, you might want to stay home, unless you’re a real fan of Warner Bros. animation, or you just love to see anvils falling on characters’ heads.

My curse is that I couldn’t watch it without wondering what the world would be like if we had to share it with colorful, invulnerable characters who could build destructive weapons that could wreak horrendous devastation on humans and our property, but which could do them no lasting harm. The answer was clear: they’d become CEOs of corporations and destroy us all.

Bonus: I volunteered as projectionist for the 7:00 show, but no one volunteered for the 9:00 movie, so I stayed to cover that one, too. It was light work, since only two people showed up for Insidious: Out of the Further. I sold them their tickets and a few concessions, but then I could just sit in the theater and watch the whole thing, undisturbed.

It was awful. I have never liked the genre of supernatural horror; even in the long ago times, I detested The Exorcist and didn’t find it at all scary, just silly. The problem with these movies is that the screenwriters have no constraints, they can just invent random abilities and constraints, and the whole point is to generate “spooky” situations for the human protagonists. This whole movie was a couple of wide-eyed frightened people scuttling through a dark haunted house with flashlights — so bad lighting, an occasional ghost popping up for a jump scare, and an arbitrary series of hoops the good guys had to jump through to banish the ghosts. It was stupid. And this was the sixth movie in the franchise! I walked out.

I found the previews far more entertaining, which isn’t saying much. Crawlers is coming out later this fall!

OK, normal, real spiders become threat because of abnormal, unreal behavior. I’ll probably watch it. It’s fun to watch stupid people freak out over a situation I’d probably find charming.

Another movie coming out is Spider Island. It’s the same premise as Crawlers, or Arachnophobia, for that matter. I kind of suspect that Arachnophobia would be far superior.

The main feature of this movie is that it is set on a tropical island resort, so we’re going to get lots of spiders with pretty girls in bikinis. It’s not a combination that appeals to me, so I’ll probably skip it unless it’s shown right in front of my face.

Quality entertainment with TNT and exploding cigars

I am working the Morris Theater tonight, and we are showing…

I’ve been looking forward to this, but at the same time I am being reminded that my childhood was filled with horrific cartoon violence — and we laughed and laughed. Was my mind poisoned by Warner Brothers?

I also remember the great Saturday morning tragedy, as Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd and the whole gang were gradually phased out, replaced by the insipid ersatz sit-com bullshit of Hanna-Barbera. If there is a sequel to Coyote vs. Acme, I’d like it to be a war movie where Acme-fueled Warner Bros. protagonists demolish the Flintstones and the other cheaply animated dreck dribbling out of Hanna-Barbera.

A review of The Odyssey I can respect

Emily Wilson has written a review of Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey! She’s the author of an excellent translation of Homer’s The Odyssey, one that Nolan himself mentioned as an inspiration, so she is one of the best qualified people to judge the movie.

She starts off diplomatically.

Christopher Nolan’s $250 million action movie version of Homer’s ancient Greek poem is an entertaining way to hide from the high temperatures for a few hours. Nolan’s trademark jumps and twists in the narrative structure are relatively easy to follow, and appropriate for The Odyssey, a narrative of tales nested in tales. My teenagers had a good time. Unlike some of Nolan’s other films, The Odyssey is not boring, thanks to the source material, which is impossible to mess up entirely. It’s a family-friendly audiovisual spectacle, like an elaborate Fourth of July fireworks display – and with about the same level of narrative and emotional depth.

Uh-oh. I think she had mixed feelings about the movie.

As in his previous films, Nolan is interested in the discontinuities of space and time, in magic, tricks, craft, technology, rivalry, substitution, masks, miscommunication, what we remember and what we choose to forget. Yet again, survival is portrayed as a kind of triumph. Yet again, there are long, claustrophobic scenes of drowning and near-drowning, and technically impressive episodes in which buildings are engulfed in flames and vehicles explode. Yet again, we watch a male character’s desperate quest to recover and/or avenge a female love object. I had hoped that Nolan’s affinity with these Homeric themes might push him to new creative heights, and enable him to conjure more believable characters. But The Odyssey features his usual combination of grandiosity and superficiality. Without a tub of wax for my ears – which Himesh Patel’s ever anxious Eurylochus, Odysseus’s doomed right-hand man, uses to sail safely past the Sirens – I was exposed to the full din of thumping sticks, staffs, swords and clashing armour, thunderbolts, crashing waves, grunts, screams, toppling palaces and burning temples. But unlike Matt Damon, the wax-free Odysseus who is tied to the mast as he is conveyed past the Sirens (naked ladies reclining on some uncomfortable-looking rocks), I gazed at the shipwrecks and bloodbaths without any agony of emotion. My eyes stayed dry, even for Argos the dog – whose adorableness as a puppy is predictably amped up to suit our animal-loving times. If only the human characters had been treated with such serious attention.

It’s been playing at the Morris Theater for going on two weeks, and one thing I’ve noticed while working concessions is how loud this movie is. Thumping, shrieking, clanging at high volume while I’m trying to take a popcorn order — it’s been an epic struggle. But yes, I agree about the flatness of the characters. One of the most notable moments of acting in the film is when Ann Hathaway’s Penelope cuts loose and expresses the complexity of her feelings — anger, resentment, confusion — to Tom Holland’s Telemachus, but mostly she’s seen as a quiet, reserved figure behind a screen.

I also expected more from Argos. In the movie, the suitors toss the old dog onto a dung pile, and when Odysseus returns, the dog notices…and simply dies. Blink and you’ll miss it. It was an opportunity to humanize Matt Damon’s Odysseus, and it was allowed to pass.

Another complaint: the Americanization of the violence.

But the representation of Odysseus as a reluctant warlord makes a nonsense of the movie’s imagined world. We are not shown that war or killing are bad, only that good men sometimes feel bad about it – a very different point. Any serious depiction of violence, ancient or modern, must show the perspectives of the victims as well as the perpetrators, and the Homeric poems easily clear the bar – but Nolan doesn’t. The Trojans are dehumanised by their masks; we know none of them by name or face. The hands of Odysseus and Telemachus are bloodied only by the most righteous, computer-game modes of killing, and we feel no pity or horror at the deaths of their victims, whether Trojans, giants, suitors or slaves. During the sack of Troy – which he supposedly organised – Odysseus gazes around in bewilderment and horror, as if he has never seen a massacre before.

I just finished reading a translation of The Odyssey last night — Emily Wilson’s, in fact — and that jumped out at me. In the bloody massacre of the suitors, as Odysseus goes on his killing spree, Homer doesn’t dwell on the gore, but instead names each man as they are murdered, and sometimes goes on to talk about their fathers, and maybe some notable feature of their character. Many of them are terrified and beg for mercy. It’s a much more impactful way of dramatizing the slaughter, rather than showing a knife going into Antinous’s throat.

The book also details many events that the movie omitted. I’d forgotten what a compulsive liar Odysseus was. Multiple times he lies to people he encounters, giving his cover story about being from Crete, with elaborate details about his background. When he finally meets Penelope again, the first thing he does is spin a long story about his alias, all of it entirely unnecessary, but “liar” is one of his epithets, so I guess he has to do it.

Also omitted from the movie is his treatment of the female slaves who slept with the suitors. He gets his head household slave to rat them out, puts them to work cleaning out all the dead bodies and gore in his palace, and then pitilessly hangs them so they die kicking and struggling. It’s not a pretty story, but fortunately, Matt Damon did not have to deal with such complications.

Wilson has her gripes, especially with the screenplay, but still ends on an upbeat note.

Despite all this, the release of The Odyssey is still an event to celebrate. In what we are told is the streaming era, this epic is bringing audiences back to cinemas. In what we are told is a time of declining literacy and the ‘death of the humanities’, translations of The Odyssey, including mine, are flying off the shelves. Some of those who buy the book or show up in cinemas to watch Tom Holland may go on to study ancient Greek. Perhaps the film will persuade a few college administrators not to cut their literature, language and history departments. Nolan, who studied English at University College London – where students still study The Odyssey as a first year ‘foundational text’ – is doing his best to get the general public reading again, and I am grateful.

The movie got me to re-read The Odyssey, so I’m an example of that. I’ve always championed the importance of the humanities in education, so nothing new there, and sorry, no, I’m not going to study ancient Greek, but maybe more people will.

It’s a great essay from an expert. If it’s too long for you, Wilson has also posted an abbreviated bullet-point version of her main points on BlueSky. Also do see the movie — your local theaters appreciate it — but I think it would be a good idea to bring earplugs.