Another entry about movies
In which I write about Victor/Victoria, Dear Wendy, Grizzly Man, Jesus Camp, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, and Intolerable Cruelty.
Victor/Victoria: I have seen this movie three or four times before, and I still love it. It's great whether I want to pay attention to it or whether I want merely to have something nice on in the background. Julie Andrews is lovely as the woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman, and the movie really tackles questions of homosexuality, the nature of gender, and people's attitudes toward those who are different from them--even if it does conclude by reasserting the hegemony of the traditional heterosexual relationship.
Dear Wendy: The first two-thirds of this movie (written by Lars von Trier and directed by Thomas Vinterberg) is a really fascinating exploration of the seductive nature of guns and power as this group of losers gains confidence while learning about and practicing using guns. They do all this as pacifists, however, promising never to use their guns, which they name and consider their partners. From this additional confidence comes the creation of a subculture (the dandies) and a willing isolation of themselves from the rest of the community (as opposed to their previously unwanted and much lonelier isolation). As their society is further developed, you see more and more that they have not only gained confidence but they have lost touch with reality as well. At least, Dick, their leader, has. As much as the first part of the movie is interesting and compelling, though, the last third of the movie just doesn't feel right. It (of course, could you see another ending?) turns toward violence. It's senseless and I get the feeling it's meant to feel inevitable or meaningful, but it doesn't. It feels like there's a step missing between all talk and all shooting. Jessica Winter's review for The Village Voice hits the nail on the head: "Especially in the climactic, clumsily staged gunfight, the prevailing mode is wide-eyed idiocy-which might be the point, since von Trier's satirical target is the hypocrisy of (news flash!) America's eagerness to enforce stability and security with all guns blazing." I want to agree with the message of this movie, the message about the danger and stupidity of violence, no matter how seductive or apparently empowering it and its tools are, but it becomes difficult because the message is handled so clumsily in the end. Tellingly, rottentomatoes.com reports that this movie only scored a 37%. On the whole, I wouldn't score it quite so low myself, but it's certainly a failure, despite its promising beginning.
Grizzly Man: This film about the life and death of Timothy Treadwell (and the death of his companion, Amy Huguenard), directed by Werner Herzog and heavily reliant on Timothy Treadwell's own recordings, opens with a show of bravado and a foreshadowing of what is to come: "I can smell death all over my fingers." This bravado colors much of Treadwell's representations of himself throughout the film and makes his fate even more ironic.
Throughout the film, it is weird to watch Treadwell interact with the bears. His attitude toward them reminds me of nothing more than that of a dog owner who's trying to assert his/her dominance over the animal while simultaneously bonding with it. One female bear approaches him and acts like she will bite him and his response is to say, "Don't you do that! Don't you do that. Back off!" He follows the scolding by squatting and saying in a sweet voice, "It's okay, I love you. . . I'm sorry." One man interviewed in the film says he got what he deserved, that he was treating the bears like people in bear suits, that "he had lost sight of what was really going on," lost sight of the essential Otherness, the danger, of the bears.
This is a common thread in popular responses to Treadwell's death. Did Treadwell go too far? Was his apparent desire to become a bear inappropriate, disrespectful? Did he do more harm than good? This is a major question in ecocriticism. There is a lot to be gained by valorizing the connections between human and nonhuman nature, but there are also great risks in doing so. Making it possible for people to identify with other animals increases the likelihood that they will want to protect them. However, animals (like bears, for instance) are ultimately not like us in many, many ways and eliding those differences, though perhaps politically expedient, does them a disservice and makes them over in our image. Treadwell's commitment to the animals is commendable, but he does seem to have trouble with the elements of death and predation. He sees the bears as perfect (even, at one point, pausing in wonder at a pile of shit that is still warm from being inside of a bear), idealized and romanticized. Werner Herzog, on the other hand, in his voiceover narration, states, "Here I differ with Treadwell. He seemed to ignore the fact that in nature there are predators. I believe the common denominator of the universe is not harmony, but chaos, hostility, and murder." Treadwell's inability to see this could well have contributed to his death and is less than politically useful.
One of the most moving portions of the film for me involves the recording of the death of Treadwell and his partner Amy. There is no video recording, but there is an audio recording. We are given no more than a description of the recording by a coroner who has listened to it and then we are given a humane and ethical reason for being denied the recording. We see Werner Herzog, the director of this film, listening to it on headphones in the presence of Treadwell's friend, former girlfriend, and business partner. She has not heard it. Herzog listens, then advises her to not only never listen to it but to destroy the tape. Her acknowledgment of this and her obvious desire to know and simultaneously not to know is compelling, as is Herzog's advice to her, which goes against the interests of full disclosure. Ultimately, Herzog chooses to emphasize humanity and tact over the possibility of underscoring the tragedy and horror of Treadwell's death by revealing any part of the recording.
What baffles me is so that many people think this film is a hoax or that it is funny. One commenter on imdb.com says, in response to the question of whether this is one of the funniest unintentional comedies ever, I certainly think it is in the top five. I haven't laughed a movie so hard in a long time. It has everything. It's a movie about a crazy person who was clearly delusional and probably a closeted homosexual told through self-aggrandizing film clips of his suicidal grizzly bear contacts. It's peppered with first-person testimonies, each one weirder than the last. To top it off, it is narrated by a German director who's liberties with English pronunciation is highly amusing itself. Everyone takes themselves far too seriously in this film, which adds to the laughs. I've watched this film five times, and it never gets old. It's the best movie to get together with friends who have never seen it, and watch their reactions and relive the first watching. It's off the scale as far as unintentional comedy is concerned...
Treadwell may be over-the-top. He may even be delusional. But his story is not a joke. His emotions are sometimes difficult to identify with, but they aren't to be taken lightly or made fun of.
Treadwell says, "I will die for these animals. . . . I had no life. And now I have a life." Grizzly Man is an interesting and sometimes moving portrait of the man who loved grizzlies, of the troubles he faced in his life, of the sacrifices he made for his convictions, and of the meaning and solace he gained from his time in Alaska and his commitment to the bears. Grizzly Man is also a reflection on the proper and actual relationship between humans and nonhuman nature. Are the bears really friends, kindred spirits, as Treadwell believed? Or are they, as Herzog counters, indifferent, merely concerned with food? The film, in its depiction of Treadwell, seems to point in both directions at once. He is not always sympathetic, but he is himself romanticized in much the same way that he romanticizes the bears. His ideas are explicitly countered by Werner Herzog's narrative voice, but the images he has captured speak so much about the beauty and grandeur of the animals and landscape he loved that it is difficult to discount his vision.
Jesus Camp: This documentary, directed by Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady, opens with shots of the landscape in and around Kansas City, Missouri, thereby placing the issue in the center of America, geographically, culturally, and politically. Although the film takes us from Missouri to North Dakota and Colorado and then to Washington, D.C., its core always remains the Midwest and the conceptual heartland of America. Radio hosts from the religious right are laid over this visual introduction, speaking about the cultural war of Christianity versus secularism, and this is followed immediately by a counterpoint from a liberal radio show host, asking what this warlike Christianity teaches our children. According to the film, 43 percent of evangelicals are born again before the age of 13. This is significant because, for evangelicals, being born-again is an individual coming to God, not at all like a formal confirmation or dedication to God initiated by parents or religious leaders. And yet, Becky Fischer, the Pentecostal leader who is at the forefront of the film and the camp depicted in the film says she can guide kids from nonbelief to faith and visions in a matter of minutes, raising the question of how much individual choice really comes into the conversion experience for young evangelicals. Of the children she converts, Fischer says, "They are so usable in Christianity," thus setting up one of the major themes of the film: the need to (or the danger of, depending on your perspective) reach kids early and teach/indoctrinate them.
Of course, as the title indicates, the majority of the film is dedicated to the religious camp Fischer has organized, called "Kids on Fire." Becky Fischer sets the tone during the first meeting at camp, saying, "The devil goes after the young, those who cannot fend for themselves. That's why we're trying to help you." The lessons these children learn at camp are political and militaristic. Fischer shouts during one meeting, "This means war! This means war! This means war!" There are repeated references--by Fischer and by the kids themselves--to the "army of God." Even after the camp ends, when some of the kids are visiting New Life Church in Colorado Springs, CO, Ted Haggard (yes, Ted Haggard) preaches, "It's massive warfare every day! Let the battle begin!" And the kids have internalized these ideas about the fundamental separation between "us" and "them." They describe non-Christians as sick, as twisted, as the enemy. These kids are being used by the church. Their parents may have their best interests at heart, but the help they provide is difficult to distinguish from the actions of those who would prey upon the defenseless. More disturbing than even the images of children writhing and weeping in religious ecstasy, speaking in tongues, and preaching of the dangers of the world is the political indoctrination that accompanies this religious experience. They are taught to pray for "righteous judges" who will outlaw abortion and they appeal a cardboard President Bush to preserve the "under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance. For these people, religion is not about their relationship with God; it is about the destiny of America and their place in the war. That is truly disturbing. To be fair, the film does focus on a subgroup of evangelical Christianity. Not all evangelicals or fundamentalists are quite this dramatic in their style of worship and their emphasis on warfare and politics. But in this subgroup we find threads common to other religious fundamentalists. What is here obvious and extreme is elsewhere still present, but more difficult to pinpoint and resist.
The filmmakers use the debate about the nomination of Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court as a structuring device, ending with the announcement of his confirmation to the Supreme Court. The final scene, following this announcement, focuses on Becky Fischer and her explanation of why she must evangelize, the burden--no, joy--of being responsible for the saving of the world. The final image of the film is telling. Becky Fischer takes her car through a car wash while listening to Christian radio. The host announces things to remember: "It's a new day"; "Liberalism is dead"; "The majority of Americans are conservative"; "You can count on us showing up and speaking out"; "Let the church rise!" This message is counterpointed by images of Fischer's car being washed clean, baptized, and the gates opening for her to drive on, back into the world. Jesus Camp is a frightening movie because we are shown very clearly how effective the fundamentalist propaganda can be, how passionate believers are, and how politically engaged they are. And, after all this, we are left with a warning. They will not stop; they will continue. The church will rise. Unless you are one of these believers, this should be a push to help protect the nation from the extremism revealed in this film, to safeguard the boundaries between church and state.
Watch this movie. If you are atheist or agnostic, this film will horrify you. If you are a Christian moderate, this film may still horrify you. If you are a conservative Christian, you should evaluate your own relationship with this kind of Christianity. And if you are are a fundamentalist of the sort described in the film, you don't need to watch the movie. You know all of this.
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone: Becky Fischer preaches, in Jesus Camp, that "[w]arlocks are enemies of God. . . . [in the OT,] Harry Potter would've been put to death. You don't make heroes out of warlocks." So what better time for me to watch this movie than immediately following a movie about the very people who object to it? Speaking of whom, I simply cannot understand why so many people object so strenuously to Harry Potter. This is a fun, adventurous, and sweet film that reinforces positive ideas about love, sacrifice, and loyalty. I wonder how many people who condemn Harry Potter for teaching children about witchcraft have actually read/seen it? And if they have read/seen it and still condemn it for that reason, they are surely missing the point.
Intolerable Cruelty: The tenth collaboration by Joel and Ethan Coen, Intolerable Cruelty stars George Clooney and Catherine Zeta-Jones. I've seen it before and remember being disappointed by it, but I thought it deserved another chance. Well, having given it another chance, I still think it's one of the Coen brothers' weakest movies (perhaps only The Ladykillers is weaker), but a weak film by the Coen brothers still outdoes the best work of far too many other filmmakers. It's often charming, but it remains merely charming and derivative of the Coen brothers' own better work.
Victor/Victoria: I have seen this movie three or four times before, and I still love it. It's great whether I want to pay attention to it or whether I want merely to have something nice on in the background. Julie Andrews is lovely as the woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman, and the movie really tackles questions of homosexuality, the nature of gender, and people's attitudes toward those who are different from them--even if it does conclude by reasserting the hegemony of the traditional heterosexual relationship.
Dear Wendy: The first two-thirds of this movie (written by Lars von Trier and directed by Thomas Vinterberg) is a really fascinating exploration of the seductive nature of guns and power as this group of losers gains confidence while learning about and practicing using guns. They do all this as pacifists, however, promising never to use their guns, which they name and consider their partners. From this additional confidence comes the creation of a subculture (the dandies) and a willing isolation of themselves from the rest of the community (as opposed to their previously unwanted and much lonelier isolation). As their society is further developed, you see more and more that they have not only gained confidence but they have lost touch with reality as well. At least, Dick, their leader, has. As much as the first part of the movie is interesting and compelling, though, the last third of the movie just doesn't feel right. It (of course, could you see another ending?) turns toward violence. It's senseless and I get the feeling it's meant to feel inevitable or meaningful, but it doesn't. It feels like there's a step missing between all talk and all shooting. Jessica Winter's review for The Village Voice hits the nail on the head: "Especially in the climactic, clumsily staged gunfight, the prevailing mode is wide-eyed idiocy-which might be the point, since von Trier's satirical target is the hypocrisy of (news flash!) America's eagerness to enforce stability and security with all guns blazing." I want to agree with the message of this movie, the message about the danger and stupidity of violence, no matter how seductive or apparently empowering it and its tools are, but it becomes difficult because the message is handled so clumsily in the end. Tellingly, rottentomatoes.com reports that this movie only scored a 37%. On the whole, I wouldn't score it quite so low myself, but it's certainly a failure, despite its promising beginning.
Grizzly Man: This film about the life and death of Timothy Treadwell (and the death of his companion, Amy Huguenard), directed by Werner Herzog and heavily reliant on Timothy Treadwell's own recordings, opens with a show of bravado and a foreshadowing of what is to come: "I can smell death all over my fingers." This bravado colors much of Treadwell's representations of himself throughout the film and makes his fate even more ironic.
Throughout the film, it is weird to watch Treadwell interact with the bears. His attitude toward them reminds me of nothing more than that of a dog owner who's trying to assert his/her dominance over the animal while simultaneously bonding with it. One female bear approaches him and acts like she will bite him and his response is to say, "Don't you do that! Don't you do that. Back off!" He follows the scolding by squatting and saying in a sweet voice, "It's okay, I love you. . . I'm sorry." One man interviewed in the film says he got what he deserved, that he was treating the bears like people in bear suits, that "he had lost sight of what was really going on," lost sight of the essential Otherness, the danger, of the bears.
This is a common thread in popular responses to Treadwell's death. Did Treadwell go too far? Was his apparent desire to become a bear inappropriate, disrespectful? Did he do more harm than good? This is a major question in ecocriticism. There is a lot to be gained by valorizing the connections between human and nonhuman nature, but there are also great risks in doing so. Making it possible for people to identify with other animals increases the likelihood that they will want to protect them. However, animals (like bears, for instance) are ultimately not like us in many, many ways and eliding those differences, though perhaps politically expedient, does them a disservice and makes them over in our image. Treadwell's commitment to the animals is commendable, but he does seem to have trouble with the elements of death and predation. He sees the bears as perfect (even, at one point, pausing in wonder at a pile of shit that is still warm from being inside of a bear), idealized and romanticized. Werner Herzog, on the other hand, in his voiceover narration, states, "Here I differ with Treadwell. He seemed to ignore the fact that in nature there are predators. I believe the common denominator of the universe is not harmony, but chaos, hostility, and murder." Treadwell's inability to see this could well have contributed to his death and is less than politically useful.
One of the most moving portions of the film for me involves the recording of the death of Treadwell and his partner Amy. There is no video recording, but there is an audio recording. We are given no more than a description of the recording by a coroner who has listened to it and then we are given a humane and ethical reason for being denied the recording. We see Werner Herzog, the director of this film, listening to it on headphones in the presence of Treadwell's friend, former girlfriend, and business partner. She has not heard it. Herzog listens, then advises her to not only never listen to it but to destroy the tape. Her acknowledgment of this and her obvious desire to know and simultaneously not to know is compelling, as is Herzog's advice to her, which goes against the interests of full disclosure. Ultimately, Herzog chooses to emphasize humanity and tact over the possibility of underscoring the tragedy and horror of Treadwell's death by revealing any part of the recording.
What baffles me is so that many people think this film is a hoax or that it is funny. One commenter on imdb.com says, in response to the question of whether this is one of the funniest unintentional comedies ever, I certainly think it is in the top five. I haven't laughed a movie so hard in a long time. It has everything. It's a movie about a crazy person who was clearly delusional and probably a closeted homosexual told through self-aggrandizing film clips of his suicidal grizzly bear contacts. It's peppered with first-person testimonies, each one weirder than the last. To top it off, it is narrated by a German director who's liberties with English pronunciation is highly amusing itself. Everyone takes themselves far too seriously in this film, which adds to the laughs. I've watched this film five times, and it never gets old. It's the best movie to get together with friends who have never seen it, and watch their reactions and relive the first watching. It's off the scale as far as unintentional comedy is concerned...
Treadwell may be over-the-top. He may even be delusional. But his story is not a joke. His emotions are sometimes difficult to identify with, but they aren't to be taken lightly or made fun of.
Treadwell says, "I will die for these animals. . . . I had no life. And now I have a life." Grizzly Man is an interesting and sometimes moving portrait of the man who loved grizzlies, of the troubles he faced in his life, of the sacrifices he made for his convictions, and of the meaning and solace he gained from his time in Alaska and his commitment to the bears. Grizzly Man is also a reflection on the proper and actual relationship between humans and nonhuman nature. Are the bears really friends, kindred spirits, as Treadwell believed? Or are they, as Herzog counters, indifferent, merely concerned with food? The film, in its depiction of Treadwell, seems to point in both directions at once. He is not always sympathetic, but he is himself romanticized in much the same way that he romanticizes the bears. His ideas are explicitly countered by Werner Herzog's narrative voice, but the images he has captured speak so much about the beauty and grandeur of the animals and landscape he loved that it is difficult to discount his vision.
Jesus Camp: This documentary, directed by Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady, opens with shots of the landscape in and around Kansas City, Missouri, thereby placing the issue in the center of America, geographically, culturally, and politically. Although the film takes us from Missouri to North Dakota and Colorado and then to Washington, D.C., its core always remains the Midwest and the conceptual heartland of America. Radio hosts from the religious right are laid over this visual introduction, speaking about the cultural war of Christianity versus secularism, and this is followed immediately by a counterpoint from a liberal radio show host, asking what this warlike Christianity teaches our children. According to the film, 43 percent of evangelicals are born again before the age of 13. This is significant because, for evangelicals, being born-again is an individual coming to God, not at all like a formal confirmation or dedication to God initiated by parents or religious leaders. And yet, Becky Fischer, the Pentecostal leader who is at the forefront of the film and the camp depicted in the film says she can guide kids from nonbelief to faith and visions in a matter of minutes, raising the question of how much individual choice really comes into the conversion experience for young evangelicals. Of the children she converts, Fischer says, "They are so usable in Christianity," thus setting up one of the major themes of the film: the need to (or the danger of, depending on your perspective) reach kids early and teach/indoctrinate them.
Of course, as the title indicates, the majority of the film is dedicated to the religious camp Fischer has organized, called "Kids on Fire." Becky Fischer sets the tone during the first meeting at camp, saying, "The devil goes after the young, those who cannot fend for themselves. That's why we're trying to help you." The lessons these children learn at camp are political and militaristic. Fischer shouts during one meeting, "This means war! This means war! This means war!" There are repeated references--by Fischer and by the kids themselves--to the "army of God." Even after the camp ends, when some of the kids are visiting New Life Church in Colorado Springs, CO, Ted Haggard (yes, Ted Haggard) preaches, "It's massive warfare every day! Let the battle begin!" And the kids have internalized these ideas about the fundamental separation between "us" and "them." They describe non-Christians as sick, as twisted, as the enemy. These kids are being used by the church. Their parents may have their best interests at heart, but the help they provide is difficult to distinguish from the actions of those who would prey upon the defenseless. More disturbing than even the images of children writhing and weeping in religious ecstasy, speaking in tongues, and preaching of the dangers of the world is the political indoctrination that accompanies this religious experience. They are taught to pray for "righteous judges" who will outlaw abortion and they appeal a cardboard President Bush to preserve the "under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance. For these people, religion is not about their relationship with God; it is about the destiny of America and their place in the war. That is truly disturbing. To be fair, the film does focus on a subgroup of evangelical Christianity. Not all evangelicals or fundamentalists are quite this dramatic in their style of worship and their emphasis on warfare and politics. But in this subgroup we find threads common to other religious fundamentalists. What is here obvious and extreme is elsewhere still present, but more difficult to pinpoint and resist.
The filmmakers use the debate about the nomination of Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court as a structuring device, ending with the announcement of his confirmation to the Supreme Court. The final scene, following this announcement, focuses on Becky Fischer and her explanation of why she must evangelize, the burden--no, joy--of being responsible for the saving of the world. The final image of the film is telling. Becky Fischer takes her car through a car wash while listening to Christian radio. The host announces things to remember: "It's a new day"; "Liberalism is dead"; "The majority of Americans are conservative"; "You can count on us showing up and speaking out"; "Let the church rise!" This message is counterpointed by images of Fischer's car being washed clean, baptized, and the gates opening for her to drive on, back into the world. Jesus Camp is a frightening movie because we are shown very clearly how effective the fundamentalist propaganda can be, how passionate believers are, and how politically engaged they are. And, after all this, we are left with a warning. They will not stop; they will continue. The church will rise. Unless you are one of these believers, this should be a push to help protect the nation from the extremism revealed in this film, to safeguard the boundaries between church and state.
Watch this movie. If you are atheist or agnostic, this film will horrify you. If you are a Christian moderate, this film may still horrify you. If you are a conservative Christian, you should evaluate your own relationship with this kind of Christianity. And if you are are a fundamentalist of the sort described in the film, you don't need to watch the movie. You know all of this.
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone: Becky Fischer preaches, in Jesus Camp, that "[w]arlocks are enemies of God. . . . [in the OT,] Harry Potter would've been put to death. You don't make heroes out of warlocks." So what better time for me to watch this movie than immediately following a movie about the very people who object to it? Speaking of whom, I simply cannot understand why so many people object so strenuously to Harry Potter. This is a fun, adventurous, and sweet film that reinforces positive ideas about love, sacrifice, and loyalty. I wonder how many people who condemn Harry Potter for teaching children about witchcraft have actually read/seen it? And if they have read/seen it and still condemn it for that reason, they are surely missing the point.
Intolerable Cruelty: The tenth collaboration by Joel and Ethan Coen, Intolerable Cruelty stars George Clooney and Catherine Zeta-Jones. I've seen it before and remember being disappointed by it, but I thought it deserved another chance. Well, having given it another chance, I still think it's one of the Coen brothers' weakest movies (perhaps only The Ladykillers is weaker), but a weak film by the Coen brothers still outdoes the best work of far too many other filmmakers. It's often charming, but it remains merely charming and derivative of the Coen brothers' own better work.