If you’re a loser by society’s standards, yet you refuse to accept or even acknowledge that label, then — technically speaking — does it still apply? That’s the question writer/director Robert Siegel asks about Paul Aufiero, the football-obsessed, nonconformist character in Big Fan, and it’s just one of the nuances that makes the film such a fascinating psychological study in fandom. The term “fan” is tossed around so casually these days that it’s easy to forget its somewhat more ominous origins. Paul is more a fanatic than a fan — his obsession with the New York Giants has almost certainly impeded his personal growth and social development — but despite appearing somewhat pathetic to the casual observer (or even his close family), the truth is that his misfit status empowers him.
Director Ang Lee and screenwriter James Schamus use a transformative event in American pop-culture history as a springboard to explore one man’s personal growth, and they do so with gentle humor and nuance in Taking Woodstock. A surprisingly intimate drama given that it deals with such a monumental event, the film captures the excitement and energy of Woodstock, yet never loses sight of the deeply personal tale it sets out to tell. With rock-solid performances from everyone including relative newcomer Demetri Martin, and a refreshingly subtle score from Danny Elfman, it’s a relaxed comedy drama that speaks directly to our need to accept social change or remain forever imprisoned by our own prejudice.
As a director/writer/producer/guru, Judd Apatow has been the hallowed king of comedy movies for the last few years — it seems just about the only complaint people have about his work is that it’s too long. Funny People, his third directorial effort, won’t change anybody’s opinion on that matter. However, he’s taking his time for all the right reasons, and the result is a raucously funny and poignant love letter to standup comics.
Everybody has a favorite Christmas carol: a song that if by chance you hear it anytime during the year you’ll recall wonderful winter memories of family and friends. Everybody also has a 37th favorite holiday tune: one that they never think about, but don’t mind hearing when it comes on the radio some time after Thanksgiving. In that regard, Nothing Like the Holidays is more “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” than “Silent Night.” For a while, Director Alfredo de Villa whips up a light and enjoyable variation on the traditions of the large dysfunctional-yet-functional-family holiday film. Alfred Molina plays convenience store owner Edy, the father of the rambunctious Rodriguez clan that includes oldest son Mauricio (John Leguizamo), a successful white-collar professional married to Wall Street warrior Sarah (Debra Messing), a WASP who’s never felt totally accepted by her in-laws. Then there’s only daughter Roxanna (Vanessa Ferlito), a struggling actress in L.A., and youngest son Jesse (Freddie Rodriguez), an Iraq War vet who pines for an old girlfriend, and suffers from guilt for causing the death of a fellow soldier. All the while, Matriarch Anna (Elizabeth Pena) cooks a never-ending supply of delicious looking food, and constantly complains about not having grandchildren.
During the unpleasant public fallout that came from the revelation of Woody Allen’s relationship with Soon-Yi Previn, Allen gave a press conference where he answered a question about this new relationship by saying, “The heart wants what it wants. There’s no logic to those things.” That line serves as the governing principle of Allen’s film Vicky Cristina Barcelona. However, far from an outright endorsement of this seemingly selfish approach to the world, the movie takes a clear look at the inevitable emotional fallout from acting (or not acting) on your heart’s desires.
Beowulf: If you thought The Polar Express was great but would have been better with graphic violence and cartoon nudity, then here’s the flick for you, guy who only exists in Robert Zemeckis’s mind.
30 Days of Night: This film tells the terrifying tale of a small-town in Alaska that’s forced to spend a month in the dark with Josh Hartnett. Fortunately, a group of merciful vampires comes along to put them out of their misery.
The Darjeeling Limited: Easily among the top-nine best Darjeeling-centric movies of 2007.
Gone Baby Gone: Ben Affleck directs Casey Affleck in this well-received drama that I can only assume was scored by Ulysses Affleck and catered by Geppetto Affleck.
Martian Child: If you loved K-Pax, then this one is for you, Mrs. Spacey.
We Own the Night: Probably the closest I’ll ever get to realizing my dream of watching Marky Mark of the Funky Bunch duet with Johnny Cash.
Now that we’ve all been eviscerated, decapitated, chopped, filleted, flayed, and riddled with bullets by Rambo, battle-weary moviegoers may be in desperate need for something a little more uplifting. While some may see the title “Son of Rambow” and immediately assume that Asylum is once again seeking to cash-in on the box-office of a major theatrical release, a closer look reveals that this film isn’t just another cheap knock-off, but a nostalgic coming of age comedy drama that actually uses the original Sylvester Stallone action classic First Blood as a springboard to explore such themes as faith, imagination, and friendship. Granted this concept may sound a bit too heady in black and white, but a closer look at the recently released trailer for Son of Rambow reveals that writer/director Garth Jennings may have in fact assembled all the ingredients necessary to whip up one of the year’s most quirky and endearing indie films.
It sounds like an interesting enough premise for a story: a young Japanese man is stifled by the pressure to excel in school, but scared to do noticeably better than his peers; he suffers from alienation amongst his friends, but he’s unequipped emotionally to talk about it with his family. One day, he just shuts himself in his room and stays there.
It’s the premise for the anime series Welcome to the NHK, which came out on DVD in the US in October, but the phenomenon is real. According to the New York Times, about a million Japanese people – mostly young men – are thought to suffer from hikikomori, a condition wherein the person holes up in their room and rarely or never comes out for years, or sometimes decades.
“No one calls Fred Claus the white Christmas movie. The Perfect Holiday is a movie about the holidays. It’s not race-specific. If there’s more than one black person in the movie, it’s an urban romantic comedy, an urban thriller - it’s just a flipping movie. The way kids think, the demographic they pander and chase - they don’t care. The same way guys are like, ‘Halle Berry’s hot, Jessica Alba’s hot’ - they don’t say, ‘She’s a hot black girl’ or ‘a hot Latina’. They notice trends, they buy movies they like, they Google people they like. It’s not race-specific… Give me a break. It’s an old-fashioned notion of marketing, and how they like to label things.”
I have to say, I think it’s interesting that Union is voicing a beef with the very idea of marketing a movie as race-specific, but she doesn’t even broach the issue of the word “urban” somehow equating “black” — even when a movie takes place in the cushiest of suburbs. She’s cutting right to the chase. I like it.
Bright, original, and ceaselessly entertaining, Juno is the best movie of its kind to come out in years. This is quite a feat considering that the 2000s has seen its share of funny but poignant comedy/dramas with lo-fi indie soundtracks, and most of them were really good. So it’s not as though Juno is satisfying and enjoyable just because it’s a breath of fresh air, or because it shuffles off the textbook constraints of the traditional comedy or drama. Movies like Thumbsucker and Me and You and Everyone We Know have already set the precedent for telling hearteningly unfiltered human stories with honesty and quirkiness. No, what Juno achieves goes above and beyond these exploits. Utilizing the groundwork laid by its predecessors, it handles subject matter that’s even slipperier, but it’s a hundred times more accessible. Juno strikes an impossibly perfect balance between biting wit, brutal honesty, and unapologetic optimism.
So how does a movie about a high school junior who gets pregnant by her best friend and decides to give her baby up for adoption come to be this intelligent, sweet, and thoroughly watchable? Maybe it’s alchemy. Many great movies reach their particular brand of excellence by way of that intangible chemistry between the actors and filmmakers that makes whatever they come up with so much greater than the sum of its parts. The only problem is that it’s hard to gauge just how big of a role chemistry plays in the greatness of a film when all the participants do their jobs perfectly.
If you’re a loser by society’s standards, yet you refuse to accept or even acknowledge that label, then — technically speaking — does it still apply? That’s the question writer/director Robert Siegel asks about Paul Aufiero, the football-obsessed, nonconformist character in Big Fan, and it’s just one of the nuances that makes the film such a fascinating psychological study in fandom. The term “fan” is tossed around so casually these days that it’s easy to forget its somewhat more ominous origins. Paul is more a fanatic than a fan — his obsession with the New York Giants has almost certainly impeded his personal growth and social development — but despite appearing somewhat pathetic to the casual observer (or even his close family), the truth is that his misfit status empowers him.
Director 
As a director/writer/producer/guru, 
Everybody has a favorite Christmas carol: a song that if by chance you hear it anytime during the year you’ll recall wonderful winter memories of family and friends. Everybody also has a 37th favorite holiday tune: one that they never think about, but don’t mind hearing when it comes on the radio some time after Thanksgiving. In that regard, 
During the unpleasant public fallout that came from the revelation of 
Now that we’ve all been eviscerated, decapitated, chopped, filleted, flayed, and riddled with bullets by 
It sounds like an interesting enough premise for a story: a young Japanese man is stifled by the pressure to excel in school, but scared to do noticeably better than his peers; he suffers from alienation amongst his friends, but he’s unequipped emotionally to talk about it with his family. One day, he just shuts himself in his room and stays there.
Bright, original, and ceaselessly entertaining, 
