Girl Detective

My Neighbor Totoro: Best All-Ages movie ever?

Recently, Entertainment Weekly posted a list online and then in print, of 55 Movies Every Kid Should See.

It’s an interesting list, and like all lists, not unproblematic. I like how it’s grouped for all ages, then 8, 10, and 12+. I agree with many of the movies on the list, demonstrated by how many of those my 8 and 10yo kids have seen.

[quick break while I count... 35.]

Like all lists, it has some questionable inclusions and some inexplicable omissions. I had two main problems with it.

The first is unforgivable, which is that no film by Hayao Miyazaki is on the list. Adding insult to injury is that sexist crap with phallic imagery like The Little Mermaid is. I’m pretty sure that even Miyazaki’s worst film is better than The Little Mermaid. The Miyazaki films should be a subset of their own, and put in order of excellence and age appropriateness.

In fact, maybe I’ll do just that for a future post.

The second flaw is an organizational one. Putting Christmas movies in with the Gen Pop makes no sense. We binge watch the age-appropriate ones every year. Like Miyazaki films, they deserve their own ordered subset, and perhaps I’ll do that come December.

After the usual post-list outrage was vented, EW posted a follow up of 12 Reader Suggestions, which did give a nod, but only that, to Miyazaki.

A few others that came to my mind that we’ve watched with our boys: The Great Escape, The Right Stuff, The Magnificent Seven, Rio Bravo.

This illustrates another problem, though with films, not with the list, which is a woeful lack of films by and about women and girls, yet another reason why all the Miyazaki films should be on the list, since they all have strong female characters most of whom are the protagonist.

How about it, parents and cinephiles. What do you think of the list, what’s on it you disagree with, or missing?

OK, who can tell I’m catching up on my feeds? But there was a reason I left these for myself to read later with time–I’m unearthing some fascinating stuff!

When I was in middle school, one of my favorite books was Moviola by Garson Kanin*. It was an utterly enthralling, trashy, historical novel about Hollywood. I loved it. I read it again and again. One of the stories that moved me most was about what happened to the actor Fatty Arbuckle, once famous and now obscure.

So it was with geeky delight that I found a story about this, “Scandals of Classic Hollywood: The Destruction of Fatty Arbuckle” at The Hairpin, linked to from ALoTT5MA

“Fatty” was just Arbuckle’s picture personality, the name given to his various characters in their endlessly hilarious approaches to “hayseed visits big city; hjinks ensue.” Off-screen, he refused to answer to the name, making explicit the distinction between textual and extra-textual persona that studio publicity worked so hard to obviate. Yet it was this off-screen persona that would eventually lead to his demise, when an alcohol-soaked weekend led to the most dramatic fall from grace in Hollywood history. I am not being overdramatic. This guy was ruined. On the surface, Arbuckle’s actions were the scandal. But as the details surrounding the event and its handling have come to light, it’s become clear that the true scandal was the willingness with which the studio heads threw their most prominent star under the figurative bus.

I would bet a dollar that Lizzie Skurnick, who wrote Shelf Discovery, read this too. This was part of the Judith Krantz/Jean Auel/VC Andrews/naughty Judy Blume stuff that I was devouring at the time.

Casper Newbolt’s advice on how to watch a film from “The Rules” at IFP, link via The Morning News:

The Rules make absolutely no prejudice, they allow you to love anything you want, but simply ask that you think for yourself.

I’ll be thinking on this one for a while. I try very hard to determine whether a movie or book will be worth my time before I go see it so I break Rule 1, which is

Go into the film without having read or watched anything. Trailers are acceptable, as they are sometimes created by film directors themselves, though even that sometimes is questionable.

Yet some of my favorite viewing experiences have been films I had no knowledge or expectations about, such as Short Cuts and Shadowlands.

Every year Mental Multivitamin reminds us of St. Crispin’s Day, October 25th, and of its central role in the battle speeches of Shakespeare’s Henry V. Every year I watch the video of that speech, am moved to tears, and am glad for the reminder of Branah’s Henry V, which was my gateway into both film and Shakespeare.

In early 1990, I was trying to clean up my act, having gotten into no little trouble from partying too much. One Friday night, a friend invited me to see Henry V at an arthouse theater in DC* where it was showing on a giant screen. At 2 hours and 17 minutes, the run time had me worried. I suspected I’d be bored, but also figured it was better than the alternative, which was staying home in baggy sweats to study. I got my treat of choice for that era**, a small Sprite and a box of Milk Duds. I remember it was a particularly fresh box. The chocolate-coated caramels were soft and gooey, not hard and stale.

“Fresh off the Dud tree,” my friend joked.

The movie began, and drew me in immediately:

O! for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention; A kingdom for a stage, princes to act and monarchs to behold the swelling scene. Then should the war-like Harry, like himself, assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, Leash’d in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire crouch for employment.

There was the tennis ball scene. And the scene with his friends at the bar. And so 2 hours and 17 minutes flew by. I didn’t know history. I had no idea the English would win, or the historical significance of those long bows. I wasn’t familiar with Shakespeare. I didn’t always track the language, and had no idea what a stellar cast I was watching: Judi Dench, Derek Jacobi, Brian Blessed, Ian Holm. Even the rookies: Branagh as actor/director, his then-wife Emma Thompson, Christin Bale! And oh,that courtship scene:

King Henry V: Fair Katherine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?

Princess Katherine: [unable to understand his English] Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell what is ‘like me’.

King Henry V: An angel is like you, Kate.

Sweet, romantic, funny, a perfect antidote to the grisly battle scenes. I loved that movie, and went to see it again. And again. And again. A total of four times at that theater; it ran for months, first on the large screen then on the small. I bought a copy of the play and read it. I bought the film on VHS, then bought it again years later on DVD. I will probably buy it yet again on Bluray. Since then I’ve seen the play and many others, on film and on stage. I’ve read many of the plays and wrote papers on them in graduate school. Twenty plus years later, it’s hard for me to imagine a time when that film, films in general, and works of Shakespeare weren’t part of my life. And every year I am reminded of that on St. Crispin’s Day by Mental Multivitamin. Thank you.

After I read this year’s MMv entry, I had a proud moment: 8yo Drake is supposed to practice handwriting every day for 15 minutes. He hates it. He moans. He flops. He procrastinates and generally makes us all miserable. I showed him the video of the speech, then opened up a copy of Henry V for Young People, which I’d hopefully bought several years ago. He moaned. He groaned. He started to copy the speech. At nine minutes he asked how much time he’d done, then banged his head on the table when I told him. But then, he got it. He got into that speech, and copied the whole thing out, and didn’t even notice when he blazed by the 15 minute mark to finish after 21 minutes. I wish I could say every writing practice since has gone as well. No dice. But for that one, brief shining moment, I could share that little thing with him, and that was more than enough.

*I think it was the Cineplex Odeon Outer Circle, since closed, which was north of Georgetown on Wisconsin Ave.

**My current favorite treat is a dozen spice drops mixed into popcorn with real butter with either water or a Mug or Sprecher root beer.

From “North by Nostalgia: Remember It Was Never Easy To Be Alfred Hitchcock,” by Linda Holmes at MPR

It was never easy to be Alfred Hitchcock, or everybody would have done it. It was never easy to be Cary Grant, or Eva Marie Saint. The crop-duster sequence wasn’t always an iconic piece of filmmaking; it began as someone’s idea. Filming the long, largely silent sequence that leads up to it wasn’t simply a product of the time; it was a product of creative effort that can’t be reduced to a dusty recollection of when people magically knew how to do things better than they do now.

Is there a modern movie that can hold a candle to North by Northwest? Linda mentions The King’s Speech being memorable for 2010, and while I enjoyed that film, I think it was an entertainment, not a great film. What are some great and lasting films from the last decade or so? For some reason, late at night, The Matrix is the only one that leaps to mind.

Over at Tor.com Elizabeth Kushner writes about Shadow of a Doubt, perhaps my favorite Hitchcock movie, in “Noir Comes to Main Street”

But this is noir, no doubt about it. All the thematic elements are here: doubleness, dark secrets, stolen fortunes, femmes fatales (or their simulacrums), and even the requisite shadows through curtains. That the curtains are ruffled and filmy, the shadows barely noticeable unless you’re looking for them, is part of the point: just as the title hints, there are shadows aplenty in the world of Shadow of a Doubt. It’s just that no one wants to see them.

I’m not sure I agree that it’s noir, since it’s a little early for that genre, plus the gender roles are reversed. (not unlike how they are in David Mamet’s House of Cards) but it is a sweet little black and white thriller, with a smart, capable, strong teen heroine. If you haven’t seen it, seek it out.

From “Get Over ‘Ferris Bueller,’ Everyone” at The Atlantic:

I grew up in a place not unlike Ferris’s tony North Shore suburb. Naturally, I dreamed about cutting class and zipping around Chicago in a 1961 Ferrari 250GT California. I’m just not sure every kid shared, or even had the means to share, my fantasy. This is the myth of Ferris Bueller. It’s portrayed as a universal story, when it’s really not.

I’m a fan of the late John Hughes, but Alan Siegel makes some strong points about why this movie should be more troubling than revered.

Via The Morning News

Or, what I did instead of writing and napping.

Shopped at Barnes & Noble Galleria (but didn’t buy anything.)

Shopped at Half Price Books in St. Louis Park (um, did buy some stuff; book stack photo to come)

Lunch of mushroom stroganoff with tofu drizzled with Sriracha sauce at Noodles and Co.

Double of Clusterfluff (Peanut Butter Ice Cream with Caramel Cluster Pieces, Peanut Butter & Marshmallow Swirls) and Chocolate Therapy (Chocolate ice cream with chocolate cookies and swirls of chocolate pudding) at Ben & Jerry’s, plus they were having a 3-fer sale:

It’s not the hubby who’s going to get chubby around here, it’s me.

G. Grod and I accompanied 6yo Drake and 3yo Guppy downstairs, where they stared, wide-eyed and silent, at the tree in the living room that had not been there the day before. (Shh. G put it up Christmas Eve while I wrapped presents and helped.)

In past years, G and my parents have sent so many stocking stuffers that we haven’t needed to help. This year was a scaled-back celebration for lots of v. good reasons, so I was on stocking duty for the first time. Friends helped with lots of suggestions, and in the end I put in: a chocolate, a peppermint, a small box of Altoids, a pack of Glee gum, a candy cane, a temporary tattoo (free from a store sometime last summer), mechanical toys they got at a birthday party and forgot about, a roll of quarters (for video games and gumball machines), a tiny satsuma mandarin orange, a finger puppet and a pack of Annie’s bunny fruit snacks. The boys decided on their own that Santa had filled the stockings.

The boys’ Auntie Sydney managed to score a Zhou Zhou pets Giant Hamster City Playset, which was the hit of the morning, though Lego Secret Agents and Snap Circuits also got a lot of attention. We watched The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, then I made snow Totoros

which the boys had no interest in while G shoveled the heavy, wet snow. Good for building, bad for shoveling. Since the roads were bad we didn’t go out for Chinese, but instead made pepperoni pan pizza. G discovered that vodka makes the cooking process a lot easier. We had pumpkin whoopie pies for dessert, then watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

At bed, the boys and I read several of our favorite Christmas books, the new Christmas Magic, beautifully illustrated by Jon Muth (Zen Shorts and Zen Ties), Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree, Olivia Helps with Christmas, Harvey Slumfenburger’s Christmas Present, and James Marshall’s The Night Before Christmas. Then we sang all the carols we know from Tomie DePaola’s Book of Christmas Carols, which we borrowed from the library for the fourth year in a row.

Then G and I snuggled down on the couch to watch The Shop Around the Corner, which charms me anew every time I watch it. Is it perfect? I think it might be.

I’m fifteen. I see National Lampoon’s Vacation. Chevy Chase IS my dad, insisting on driving the family truckster when flying is so much easier, taking along loud-snoring elderly relatives, encouraging me to get my head out of my book and pay attention to sights like the biggest ball of twine.

I’m sixteen. I see Sixteen Candles. Not only is it hilarious, I identify with the main character. Short red hair, funny looking, not noticed by guys? Yeah. Then she ends up with Jake Ryan? It’s the most romantic movie ever, and gives me hope.

I’m almost seventeen, and grounded for something. Staying out past curfew? Wrecking the car? Getting caught drinking? So many possible infractions. My younger sister A. and her friend LT want to go see The Breakfast Club. My parents decide to go too and ask me (probably graciously, in spite of how obnoxious I was at the time, i.e. a 16yo) if I’d like to go. I’m torn. We live in a small, small town. I want to see the movie. I’m furious at being grounded. I risk humiliation if I’m seen at theater with parents and kid sister. I go. I’m enthralled. The movie seems to be speaking just to me. I see my classmates up on screen (CD is Judd Nelson. ML is Anthony Michael Hall. CS is Emilio Estevez. TR is Molly Ringwald. KS is a burnout like Ally Sheedy and will be dead in a few years of a heroin overdose.) I see myself as a mix of the Molly Ringwald character (I cut school to go tanning, not shopping, though) and the Anthony Michael Hall character (I was a “brain,” you see.) On the ride home, I’m silent. I can’t believe how awesome that movie was.

I’m eighteen when I see Pretty in Pink. I wince when Andie is taunted by James Spader. I know a guy like that. I have no prom date. I like the ending; I WANT her to end up with Blaine. The dress was prettier before she messed with it, though. The lights go up. Two rows in front of me is the guy I have a crush on. He says hi. Two weeks later he asks my best friend to prom. She says no. A really nice guy JG and his friend SK ask me and her. We say no, we have plans to go with a group. I will always regret this.

I’m eighteen, and with my friend who’s a boy, C in his car at a drive-in double feature of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Pretty in Pink (again). We drink wine coolers the color of Andie’s prom dress and smoke Marlboro Lights. Before the movie we listen to cassette tapes of OMD and Psychedelic Furs. We say we can’t wait for college and to get out of our small town. We think we’ll always be friends. This turns out not to be true.

John Hughes wrote and directed some of my favorite movies. Because of how it got imprinted on me, Breakfast Club will always be a touchstone. His work spoke to me at a time when I could hardly listen to anything. It helped me get through my teens (which wasn’t a sure thing; see paragraph 3). I’m grateful I had those movies, and I’m sad he’s gone.

In “Neo-Neo Realism“, from a recent New York Times Magazine, film critic A.O. Scott resists the easy answer of escapism, for what audiences want in films:

what if, at least some of the time, we feel an urge to escape from escapism? For most of the past decade, magical thinking has been elevated from a diversion to an ideological principle. The benign faith that dreams will come true can be hard to distinguish from the more sinister seduction of believing in lies. To counter the tyranny of fantasy entrenched on Wall Street and in Washington as well as in Hollywood, it seems possible that engagement with the world as it is might reassert itself as an aesthetic strategy. Perhaps it would be worth considering that what we need from movies, in the face of a dismaying and confusing real world, is realism.

He notes that the ancestor of this new new wave of realism is The Bicycle Thief, so anti-escapism isn’t really new. But he offers a number of films in example–Wendy and Lucy, Sugar, Chop Shop, and more–that honor the audience by offering up real characters and not dumbing things down. Meanwhile, they manage the surprising, true-to-life feat of ending on notes of quiet hope, even in the face of tragedy and difficulty.

Scott’s analysis is intelligent and stirring. Suddenly, and as if I needed it, I’ve got a lot more movies I’d like to see. And a lot more little ones that I’m going to have to hunt for in theaters, as these little quiet movies don’t get a lot of screens.

I’m just wondering what comes after the new-new realism? The Grateful Dead song, “New Minglewood Blues”, became “New New Minglewood Blues” then “All New Minglewood Blues”. Will we see an all new realism sometime in the future?

Me, that’s who. I’m a comics geek. I read Watchmen in 1990 and have been an avid comic reader ever since. That’s why I won’t be seeing Watchmen (2009).

Watchmen the book is brilliant. It exploded the boundary, then and perhaps forever, on superhero entertainment and the comics medium. So a faithful adaptation, as director Zack Snyder said he tried to do, misses the point, IMO. It offers superheroes and violence up as entertainment, without the irony.

Instead of investing almost 3 hours and $10 in the movie, read this interview at Salon with creator Alan Moore. (Can’t find the source of the link; sorry. It was probably Morning News or Bookslut) Read the graphic novel. Or go here for a hilarious imagining of what Watchmen might have been like as an 80’s kids cartoon, or to Slate for a parody of what other directors might have done. (Last two links from ALoTT5MA)

My husband G. Grod went to see it last night.

“How was it?” I asked.

“Exactly what I expected,” he replied. “That bad. Now I know.”

Rober Ebert liked it, but it’s clear from his review that he hasn’t read the source material. Part of what worked about recent comic-book movies like Spiderman 2, Iron Man, Hellboy II and The Dark Knight is that they were based on the larger legend, but eschewed existing stories in favor of ones crafted specifically for the movie.

TV critic Alan Sepinwall’s review confirmed my suspicions about the movie. I’ve not yet gone to see any adaptation of an Alan Moore project, though all the graphic novels–League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Swamp Thing, From Hell, V for Vendetta–are among my favorites. Movies and comics are different mediums. Sometimes one can bring something to the other than deepens the story. But with such rich source material as Watchmen, I don’t much see the point.

Because my children are ignoring me and refusing to get dressed, I’m going to ignore them right back. So much for the high road.

The bracket for the Morning News 2009 Tournament of Books is up! Adjust your reading list priorities accordingly. (I’m reading City of Refuge now, which seems bootless, since it’s up against Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth.)

At the WSJ, a bunch of financial experts on what to do with your financial stimulus money. Link from Morning News.

At New York Magazine, Nate Silver statistically predicts the Oscar winners.

A List of Things Thrown Five Minutes Ago will be live-blogging the Oscars.

On last night’s Top Chef, Finnish Stefan wore a T-shirt and hat emblazoned with “Suomi”. According to Wikipedia, Suomi means Finnish or Finland. One of the finalists commented that Fabio’s mohawk meant there had been one in every finale. Season four was Richard. Season Three was Dale. I don’t know who it was for the first two seasons.

On Colicchio’s blog at Bravo, he gives more information to the decisions from last night’s New Orleans finale part 1. It’s brief and insightful, plus divulges the technical term pro chefs use for other chefs’ food they admire.

or, why movies are more likely to be great in the theater than at home. (Link from The Morning News.)

Studies have indicated that Elevation is triggered by the stimulus of our vagus nerve, described by Wikipedia as the only nerve that starts in the brainstem and extends down below the head, to the neck, chest and abdomen, where it contributes to the innervation of the viscera. It must be involved in what we call “visceral feelings,” defined as “relating to deep inward feelings rather than to the intellect.”

The vagus nerve would certainly account for what I feel, which is as much physical than mental. For years, when asked “how do you know a movie is great?” I’ve had the same reply: I feel a tingling in my spine. People look at me blankly. I explain that I feel an actual physical sensation that does not depend on the abstract quality of the movie, but on–well, my visceral feelings.

Take-Up productions hits Northeast Minneapolis with its next film series, “From the Vaults of Universal: Seven Classic Film Noirs” at the Heights Theater Monday nights at 7:30 p.m. starting 16 February 2009. Take-Up also has a page on Facebook.

February 16 7:30 This Gun For Hire (1942) dir Frank Tuttle, starring Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake

*February 23 BURT LANCASTER DOUBLE FEATURE (2 films for 1 $8 ticket)*
7:30 Criss Cross (1949) dir Robert Siodmak, starring Burt Lancaster and Yvone De Carlo

9:15 The Killers (1946) dir Robert Siodmak, starring Burt Lancaster and Ava Gardner

March 2 7:30 The Big Clock (1948) dir John Farrow, starring Ray Milland and Charles Laughton

*March 9 ALAN LADD / VERONICA LAKE DOUBLE FEATURE (2 films for 1 $8 ticket)*
7:30 The Blue Dahlia (1946) dir George Marshall, starring Alan Ladd, Veronica Lake and William Bendix

9:15 The Glass Key (1942) dir Stuart Heisler, starring Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake (Edited: based on the Dashiel Hammett novel that was part of the Coen Brothers’ inspiration for Miller’s Crossing; the other was Red Harvest.)

March 16 7:30 The Phantom Lady (1944) dir Robert Siodmak, starring Franchot Tone, Ella Raines and Elisha Cook

“Smoke up, Johnny!”

As an antidote to yesterday’s lovely article on gift giving to children, the Onion AV Club has “Fifteen Terrible Presents in TV and film”

My worst gift was from my well-meaning dad. I was sixteen and he got me an emergency CB radio for the car if I broke down. He was trying to keep me safe; I wanted a red-striped shirt from the Limited. Ah, youth.

Link from ALoTT5MA

The Film Club is a memoir of Canadian novelist (NOT Pink Floyd guitarist and vocalist) David Gilmour, who lets his 15yo son Jesse drop out of school if he agrees to watch three movies a week together. So begins a wild adventure in parenting. Gilmour starts with Truffaut’s New Wave classic, The 400 Blows. But as almost every review of the book crows, he follows it up with “dessert”, the eminently watchable, if made by sleazy people, Basic Instinct.

I picked the movies arbitrarily, in no particular order; for the most part they had to be good, classics when possible, but engaging, had to pull him out of his own thoughts with a strong storyline. There was no point, not at this juncture anyway, in showing him stuff like Fellini’s 8 1/2. (1963).

It’s this unconventional, anti-film-snob approach to movies that probably helped their film club to work for the next few years. Gilmour never forgot, or stopped trying to impart to his son, that films were created as entertainment. So while Jesse got a full run of classics, like Citizen Kane and Chinatown, he also watched horror films like Rosemary’s Baby and guilty pleasures like La Femme Nikita.

More than a movie memoir, it’s one of parenting, as Gilmour coaxes Jesse through some typically disastrous adolescent romances. Gilmour won’t be nominated for parent of the year anytime, but he’s got the critical basics down: empathy, honesty, and the ability to apologize. As a parent I often wonder if I taught my kids my own foibles, or if they go through them because its in their genes, so the best I can do is help them through it, as Gilmour does with humor and self-effacement in this winning book.

I recently saw Mamma Mia! in the theater, and enjoyed it very much. Afterward, I had the nagging sensation that it reminded me of something from Jane Austen. I began to make a list, and this is what I ended up with:

Did I miss any? As always, if you’re in the mood for more Austen goodness, visit the erudite and entertaining Austenblog.

Thanks to Weirleader, whose html might have worked but I couldn’t make it do so, and my tech support G. Grod, who turned this into a readable table. Let me know if it’s not readable enough.

The Mall of America recently updated its theaters, which are now independently operated. They now serve popcorn with real butter, and apparently have a very swank VIP theater. Link from MNSpeak.

Pet peeve: Minnesota is in the US, folks. And here, we spell it “theater.” So drop the pretentious nonsense that makes googling and finding your THEATER harder (I’m lookin’ at you MOA and Parkway) and use the US, not the English, spelling. Sheesh.

The Minneapolis Heights Theater is screening a double feature of Citizen Kane and The Magnificent Ambersons from Monday October 20 to Wednesday October 22, 2008. You can see one or both for $8. If you go, be sure to get their fabulous popcorn with REAL butter, or a treat from the Dairy Queen next door.

Is it wrong that I think the Pumpkin Pie Blizzard sounds really good? Even I, though, the mistress of overkill, think buttered popcorn and a blizzard is over the top.