24 Days of Christmas- Merry Christmas, Here’s Some AIDS Installment

As a regular movie, Rent doesn't exactly have classic status. With Chris Columbus’ stagey direction and lack of personal voice, Rent isn’t even a particularly good adaptation of the Broadway musical from which it’s based. The actors are all too old for their parts. The film lacks cinematic urgency. And the once-cutting-edge play about a group of New York bohemians turns into a surprisingly conventional piece of “we should all love each other” fluff. But as a Christmas movie, Rent is kind of great.

The story of a make-shift family’s heartbreak and hope is exactly the kind of crap that Christmas movies were made for. The momentary triumphs, abject horror, and desperate yearning for meaning in a world that can seem heartless and cold are the most moving tropes that I have experienced throughout this whole experiment. And this particular group of ragtag misfits, compiled of society’s castoffs, is profound in their devotion to the idea of their family.

During the non-Yule Tide part of the year, I find Rent’s politics incredibly frustrating even as I find the songs obscenely catchy. But during Christmas time, I think that tenants SHOULD be allowed to stay in their apartments rent-free and with ample provisions in terms of electricity. There’s a very traditional sense of “goodwill towards men” that Rent embodies, despite its seemingly fringe setting, that fits in perfectly with the pantheon of It’s a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street. If Angel, dressed up as lady stripper Santa, singing a song about murdering a dog and giving money to people, isn’t the Christmas-iest thing you see this year, then I don’t know how to talk to you.

Rent tells the story of 7 friends in late 1980s New York, ravaged by AIDS, poverty and drug abuse. Along the way, it touches on love, friendship and loss. The movie adaptation is occasionally given to histrionics, and it definitely loses a lot of the original play's kinetic energy, but that cast and the emotions remain strong (although this movie is the one that made me hate Idina Menzel for about two years). And belief in the idea of love as transcending the seasons that a life goes through, while cliché, is particularly moving when accompanied by so many varied depictions of what love means.

Random Observations: 
• Doing a 99% Watch on a film that's whole premise is about a group of un and under-employed young kids unable to pay their rent and being pushed out of their homes by an uncaring real estate magnet is a little absurd; but suffice it to say that from the opening number of “Rent” and the immediate appearance of Taye Diggs saying “get your ass off the Range Rover,” to the huge protest about homeless rights, this movie is more socialist than the Muppets.

• My mom’s summary of Rent: “Christmas Eves are the bookends, held together by heroin and Aids… Merry Christmas.”

• The movie’s take on love: you can find it if you’re gay (Angel and Tom), if you’re a lesbian (Maureen and Joanne), if you have AIDS (Roger and Mimi), but not if you're a heterosexual white dude with no discernable medical history.

• Why do musical characters all think that Santa Fe is the promise land?

24 Days of Christmas: Old-School Edition

by Rachael Nisenkier

I chose the black and white 1947 version of Miracle on 34th Street not because of some pretentious need to see the original, but because I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before. I know I’ve seen the Matilda version at some point in time, so I’m much more interested in seeing how the 1947 classic holds up.

You know the plot: Kris Kringle takes over for a drunk department store Santa Clause and then ends up having to go to trial to defend his Claus-y-ness. As I said before, it kind of boggles my mind to think of the logic of this for too long (seriously, how do the parents NOT notice the extra presents?). One of the most interesting things about watching the 1947 version is that the essential message of the film is about cynicism and faith. The 1940s and 50s are traditionally a time we look back on with a nostalgic fondness for a bygone naïve era. But here, we are meant to examine the cynicism already prevalent in 1940s America. Given how much we believe our cynicism has grown since then, it’s particularly intriguing to examine the story. So here’s the rest of the plot, for those, like me, who only know the bare bones.

On top of the Santa Clause story, there’s the tale of Susan and Doris Walker. Doris is an executive at Macy’s who plans the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. She’s also divorced with a kid, which was apparently akin to being a leper in the 1940s. That kid is Susan (Natalie Wood, proving how ridiculous it was that she ever played a Puerto Rican), a girl so logical and straight forward that she doesn’t believe in giants, let alone one man who drives around with reindeer who fly to deliver toys to all good little boys and girls in one night. Santa Clause makes it his mission to help make Doris believe again, against all odds, in order to save Christmas. Or something.

Like It’s A Wonderful Life, this movie supports the very Christmas-y idea that doing the right thing, even when it garners bad stuff in the short term, leads to good things long term. Macy’s Santa Claus starts sending desperate parents to other stores so they can find their last minute Christmas presents. Far from hurting profits, this leads to an increased bottom line thanks to store loyalty. An amateur psychologist proclaims Kris insane, but Macy’s decides to keep him on staff since everyone loves him. They set him up to live with Doris’s neighbor, a bachelor lawyer who clearly has eyes for Doris, and in sharing close quarters with Doris, Susan and Mr. Lawyer, Kris begins to expand their ideas of what is possible. Then, the psychologist goads Kris into hitting him, and gets him carted off to a mental institution. Now, Mr. Lawyer (whose name is Mr. Gailey, but Mr. Lawyer is more fun) has to represent Santa in the court of law and public opinion. It’s a classic faith versus cynicism, corruption versus goodness, warmth versus cold case. And the ending, featuring grandstanding and beautiful monologues, as well as an abrupt and tear-jerking change of faith by Doris, is as hopeful and philosophical as one could wish from a Christmas movie.

At the end of the day, this movie doesn’t seriously challenge anything or say anything a thousand other Christmas movies hasn’t before (and, much more extensively, after). What it does, though, is make a case for the extraordinary. I’m pretty painfully agnostic, myself, and tend to live a Christmas that is more about family, friends, and popular culture than it is about the manger, Mary, and Jesus Christ. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in what the movie calls “intangibles.” In fact, the reason why Miracle on 34th Street has remained so steadfastly popular is precisely because of its ability to fight through cynicism. It’s said best in the words of Mr. Lawyer himself, Fred Gailey: “Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to. Don't you see? It's not just Kris that's on trial, it's everything he stands for. It's kindness and joy and love and all the other intangibles. "

Random Observations: 
• Santa Clause in 1947 was skinnier than the average person today? That’s… depressing.

• I refrained, as much as possible, from ranting about this in the body of the review. But why the hell do all these people think it’s okay to tell Doris how to raise Susan? Oh, yes, that’s right, because she’s a woman. A DIVORCED woman. Blow me.

• Much more endearingly, the movie questions the whole idea of “normal,” and reaffirms the value of imagination. Take THAT 99%, this movie also makes a great argument for the ways that the free market actually supports goodness.

24 Days of Christmas: Wonderful, Tear-jerking Classic Edition

by Rachael Nisenkier

I went through a brief period in high school when I was positively obsessed with Jimmy Stewart. It was when I first started to get into older films, and I devoured Harvey, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, The Philadelphia Story, Destry Rides Again and a bunch of other movies that starred Stewart. I didn’t watch It’s a Wonderful Life, though. When I was in college, I took a class on Howard Hawkes that also encompassed some of his contemporaries, including It’s a Wonderful Life’s director, Frank Capra. We watched westerns, political movies, and romances, but we never watched It’s a Wonderful Life. In other words, despite the fact that I really love everything about this movie (including Christmas, which I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, I kind of love), I haven’t seen It’s a Wonderful Life since I was a pre-teen.

Watching it again, I am a little overwhelmed by just how lovely this movie is. At the worst times of the year, I am a sucker for stories about the inherent potency of decency. The tale of George Bailey, who went through a whole lot of tragedy while trying to do good in the world, is probably even more potent now. At the same time, Capra’s worldview is almost painfully naïve at times. Given the adorably simple economics that power Bailey’s rise to everyman hero, it’s tempting of course to compare the Great Depression-era heroics to the modern Great Recession-era anti-heroics. But Capra’s story isn’t so much about the actual mechanics of the bank story as about the resilience of the human spirit to do good. It’s a Wonderful Life is also the only Christmas movie I’ve watched so far that has God as a character, albeit a starry nebula character.

Now to the plot, It’s A Wonderful Life is told in medias res, starting with an angel (Clarence) getting the job of saving George Bailey. Then, it quickly starts with the beginning of Bailey’s life. Bailey’s life, on the face of it, was not a big life. He yearned for one. He talked a big game about traveling the world and leaving the town he grew up in in the dust. And he worked hard for it. But every time he tried to leave, the universe (God?) stops him. He’s about to leave for Europe, his Dad has a stroke. He’s about to go to college, the evil Mr. Potter threatens to take over his business. Four years later, his brother comes home with a wife who offers the brother a way out of their town. George, smart, kind, and compassionate George, ends up staying in town and he never leaves. The taint of that failure (in George’s eyes) follows him into his future, and even as he builds a life for himself in Bedford Falls there’s always a part of him that wonders if he wasn’t meant for something more. When Clarence steps in to stop a Depression-era George from committing suicide, he shows Bailey what life would be like in Bedford Falls without him.

The movie is ready to show us just how big a life Bailey actually lived. This is pure Capra. His overwhelming belief in the American ideal, even in the face of tragedy, and in the power of the righteous individual is exactly what I mean by “naïve.” But it’s also what makes It’s a Wonderful Life a Christmas classic, a stalwart reminder that despite everything in the world there’s the capacity for good and change. George’s decision to stick around and stick to his guns is what enables the goodness of the whole town to shine through. There’s a reason that TV shows and movies alike have been stealing this plot for years. It’s absurdly moving. Who hasn’t occasionally looked around at their life and wondered if the world around them would be better without them? Who hasn’t occasionally wondered if the road not taken was the right one? But the original, by mixing Christmas and Capra and the greatest parts of the “Greatest Generation,” is profoundly moving.

By the time the hapless angel Clarence shows up and starts showing George what life would be like without him, you’re already an hour and a half in, and deeply invested in this man’s salvation. He shows him a world without one man’s goodness, and shows the incredible ways that one life can touch all the others. I dare you to sit through the whole movie and not tear up when all the town’s people we’ve spent this movie with show up to help old George out. I know I sure couldn’t.

Random Observations: 
• “Mr. Potter, that this rabble you're talking about... they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath?" The 99% should adopt this as their motto

• “You know, George, I feel that, in a small way, we are doing something important. Satisfying a fundamental urge. It's deep in the race for a man to want his own roof and walls and fireplace, and we're helping him get those things in our shabby little office.” Don’t you wish the people at the big banks felt this way about their jobs?

• “Why don’t you go to the riffraff you love so much and ask them to lend you the money?” awww, Mr. Potter, what beautiful foreshadowing.

Anonymously Making Stuff Up

by Kelly Bedard

In the weeks before Anonymous hit movie theatres I was asked no fewer than 20 times how I felt about the film. "Could it be true?" people wondered of the absurd tagline: 'Was Shakespeare A Fraud?'; "are you outraged?" demanded others, inquiring whether my bardolatry had me on the defense; "why is Xenophilius Lovegood in it?" some pondered, rightly wondering why the bright and witty Rhys Ifans was on the poster. "I don't know yet" was my answer to questions 2 and 3 since I'd yet to actually see the movie; question 1 has long had a definitive "no" attached to it, complete with a long rant about the gross pretentiousness that accompanies each and every theory positing that William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon wasn't educated or rich or respectable enough to be talented.

No, the outrage never came.  And as for Ifans, I suspect it had little to do with anything other than the studio's need for a familiar face who could speak in a straight line and the actor's need for a paycheck.

J. Edgar

by Rachael Nisenkier

It’s heartening to realize that we have officially reached the point as a country when a mainstream director known for his tough guy movies and a leading man known for making teenage girls watch Titanic fifteen times in one week can make a movie together about a homosexual love affair. It’s even more heartening to realize, about halfway through the movie, that J. Edgar is probably the most conventional (to the point of boring) gay love story ever made. That’s right, we’ve officially reached the point where gay love stories are not the purview of edgy independent films, but rather window dressing in a typical Oscar bait biopic. Progress.

The Ides of March

by Rachael Nisenkier

I walked into The Ides of March terrified I’d be bored by a political thriller lacking heart. Instead, I found myself nearly bowled over by a moral thriller playing with the language and heartbreak of politics.

The movie is essentially a moral tragedy. It tells the tale of idealistic campaign manager Steven (Ryan Gosling), who is working on the presidential campaign for the upstart democrat, Governor Morris (George Clooney).

Everybody Cut Footloose!

by Kelly Bedard

The opening scene of the new Footloose is toe-tapping great and followed by the excellent addition of the game-changing car crash that sets the no-dancing law in motion. The last scene is even better- it had me on a glitter high and dancing in my seat. The iconic montage of Willard learning to dance to the tune of "Let's Hear it For the Boy" is expertly copied almost frame-for-frame but given tiny modern tweaks and played with wonderful comic panache by Miles Teller. If they'd screwed up any of those three things (2 iconic, 1 tone-setting), the film would have had failure written all over it. As it is, a 70% mediocre film gets such a big boost from the excellence of that crucial 30%.

Style, Punch and a Whole Lotta Driving

by Kelly Bedard

Ryan Gosling is on top of the world. With no fewer than 3 major major movies currently in theatres and Oscar buzz starting up again, Gosling is named-checked as The Guy right now, the one that all other men are stuck never living up to. But Ryan Gosling is a gangly Ontarian with floppy hair and a goofy smile. Isnt' he? At least that's the kid I grew up loving on Breaker High back when I was the only kid I knew who knew his name. Then he conquered the world, making everyone fall in love with him in the process- and my possessive pride is kicking in.

Playing Moneyball with Pitt, Hill, Hoffman and Pratt

by Kelly Bedard

I knew I would like Moneyball. I was hoping it wouldn't suck but I was fairly certain I'd love it either way.

The following are the reasons:

- My idol of all idols Aaron Sorkin worked on the script, even if it was rewritten for a third time before finally going into long-delayed production, and I've never not loved anything he's ever touched (yes, even Studio 60).

- I like Brad Pitt more than your average Joe, I suppose, and I can even get behind the unconventional casting of Jonah Hill.

- Chris Pratt as an unlikely hero baseball player? Has someone been reading my dream journal?

- I like a good true story. There's just something really great about life and its inherent cinematic quality.

but, most telling of all,

- I just love sports movies. All of them, even the crap ones like The Big Green and The Replacements. I love few things more than the metaphorically rich game of baseball, one of those things is movies about the metaphorically rich game of baseball.

So I was pretty sure they could completely screw up Moneyball and I'd still be all in.
But hey, they didn't screw it up.

The Help: from page to screen

Editor's Note: 
The Help is one of the biggest films of the summer. But the beautiful movie isn't one of those adaptations that lives a separate life from its source material. The movie is directed by the childhood best friend of the author and based on her book inspired by her childhood about a woman who writes a book inspired by her love of the woman who raised her. It's not a movie you can take out of context. Katheryn Stockett took a lot of heat just for writing The Help (a strange notion in context of the heat her character Skeeter and her subjects Minnie and Abilene get for writing the book "The Help" within the book The Help) and to think of Tate Taylor's film as somehow unburdened by that history takes away a lot of what makes The Help special. As such, senior contributing author Rachael Nisenkier (an author for both My Cinema and My Bookshelf) has written her film review as a companion piece to her previously published book review. You'll find both pieces here, published together in our efforts to capture all that The Help is.

One Day in Hollywood

by Kelly Bedard

The film adaptation of the truly wonderful book One Day, predictably, leaves much to be desired. While the presence of the always sensational Patricia Clarkson (perfectly cast in the pivotal role of Dexter’s idealized mother) certainly helped the film along, the incredible miscasting of the story’s leading lady proved devastating to the adaptation.

So much of the complication in Dexter and Emma’s relationship comes from their regional class differences. In casting an American actress (no matter how charming) without perfect accent skills, the filmmakers essentially robbed themselves of that crucial tool. Anne Hathaway could have given the performance of her life (which, for the record, she did not even come close to giving) and no one would have cared because her accent work was just so bad. It was inexcusable (though I will admit that no one pulls off an "awkward girl comes into her own" makeover quite like Hathaway).

The Art of Nothing At All

The Art of Getting By is a truly terrible film. I had high hopes for what looked like a sweet, earnest and artsy coming-of-age story but what I got instead was a pretentious wannabe indie darling with a lame hipster “New York insider” attitude. The film’s principle themes of art and love as salvation are admirable but their condescending and derivative presentation left me literally yelling at the screen (seriously, I was the only person in the giant theatre, so I took the opportunity to scold the characters and filmmakers- it was wonderfully cathartic, if a little lunatic-seeming).

The story essentially boils down to that of an exceptional boy (played by Freddie Highmore, who apparently has been busy ageing in these last few years while we weren’t watching- whod’a thunk?). Said exceptional boy spends the entirety of the film (and his life preceding it) trying his darndest not to be exceptional. The plot really kicks off when he falls for a girl who is, in every way, unexceptional (Emma Roberts, the powerless victim of a vile role).

The Antidote to Cynicism

My best friend informs me that “Larry Crowne is so stupid!” He’s usually more eloquent than that, just not when he’s wrong. On his international press tour for the film, writer/director/star/most-beloved-man-in-Hollywood Tom Hanks had a single line that he trotted out in some form or another every one of the 4 million or so times he was asked what the film was about: “it’s an antidote to cynicism”. I think it’s that very feature that my “realist” friend so ineloquently can’t get behind. I, on the other hand, am all for it. When Conan O’Brien was leaving The Tonight Show, endlessly bitter and fundamentally heartbroken, his parting words were a plea that his audience not be cynical. “It’s the most useless thing in the world”, he said of the state he had every right to be in. And Conan was, as he often is, very right. For almost everyone I know, 2011 has been an absolute shit (excuse the language, there just is no true synonym). But the people who are making it through the best are the ones with the acute awareness that 2012 is just around the corner and that it, surely, will be better. Larry Crowne is a film about possibility, the counter-argument to the “lost potential”, “missed opportunity”, “you only peak once” narratives that have come to dominate our overly competitive lives.

Goodbye and Thank You Harry

by Rachael Nisenkier

I have a long history with Harry Potter. I got the first book when I was 11. I read the last one my sophomore year of college. The books and movies have been there for me from pigtails to braces to paychecks, and everything in between. Last year, when Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 came out, I unpacked my Harry Potter baggage here.* And when the movie came out, I reviewed part 1 here.

I start with my history because Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 is a uniquely reflective film. Every image in it has been built to reflect the movies that came before it. In the requisite movie marathon that came with the release of the newest film, I recognized one major shift in having David Yates take over the director’s chair for the last four films. Yates, maybe due to the benefit of having most of the books out for all of his movies, seems uniquely aware of and concerned for cinematic continuity and for creating a universe within the movies that makes sense, thematically, logically and emotionally. 

The films will never have the span of the book. They’ll never be able to fit in all the subplots, all the Ron Winning At Quidditch, all the Hermione Saves The House Elves, all the complicated bits of magical lore that explain possession of the Elder Wand. But where Yates excels is creating a cinematic universe that makes sense and to which Deathly Hallows Part 2 is a near perfect conclusion.

At the Cineplex

Summer brings with it just a few guarantees: hot weather, kids out of school and blockbuster season at the Cineplex. With so many big budget, massive star vehicles charging into theatres (along with some lesser-known experiments), we at My Cinema are always struggling to keep up. So, here's a quick overview of some of the films we've seen in recent months- the ones that didn't quite warrant the full review treatment but deserved a mention nevertheless.

Read about Bridesmaids, Arthur, Water for Elephants and Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides after the jump.

Super 8

When I was in film school, it was common to start off the introductory classes by going around the room and asking everyone who their favorite director was. I would sit, nervously anticipating my turn, as every other student rattled off Sundance-approved names both obscure and less so. Aronofosky, Lynch, Soderbergh, Nolan (this was in the days before The Dark Knight, when you could still be cool for loving Nolan because he hadn't yet gained COMPLETE popular dominance). Or occasionally people ran out the classics card, and touted off Kubrick or Bergman. And when it came to me, I inevitably squeaked out "Spielberg?"

Now, partially, if I'm being honest, this was my own version of film-student-rebellion. I grew so sick of everyone trying to one-up each other with their "I know someone older, foreigner, and more punk rock than you" game, that I figured the best way to counteract that was to name the most successful, modern, and decidedly un-punk rock director currently making quality films. After all, saying Spielberg was your favorite director as a film major was like claiming George W. Bush was your favorite president as a poli-sci major. But despite this rebellion, mostly I answered Spielberg because, well, I've just always adored the work of Steven Spielberg.

Jane Eyre's Dreary, Gray Kingdom

The newest film version of Jane Eyre is a cold affair. It's gray-tinted, rain-soaked, slowly paced and underplayed. None of this is to an unforgivably negative effect. In fact, this gray sense of dismal circumstance works sort of perfectly for Jane Eyre, a dreary text in itself. It does, however, make for a rather unpleasant film experience and adds nothing new to the oft-adapted text.

Leading lady Mia Wasikowska competently takes on the iconic literary figure, her mature understatement sometimes crossing into monotone territory but generally filling the screen well. Michael Fassbender is too conventionally and inarguably good looking for Mr. Rochester and his tortured side isn't particularly well developed. The result is a less interesting but more likable leading man than is standard. Sally Hawkins, though underused, is a nice surprise, playing against type as the bitter Mrs. Reed, and generally the whole supporting  cast is pretty good (especially Jamie Bell as the fascinating John Rivers).

Many of the smaller characters (Hawkins and Bell's parts most of all) are cut down quite a bit. This means a lot of what makes them interesting goes away, making them little more than fifth business for the A plot. The Bertha issue, for example, is shorthanded to the point where it sort of stops making sense. Perhaps the most prominent of these cutting victims, however, is Dame Judi Dench (Mrs. Fairfax) who simply has to be pickier with her film choices.

As much as Dame Judi slumming it has become a standard of dreary British period pieces, so has almost everything in this film. It's not bad, it's just been done. Even the estate supposedly belonging to Mr. Rochester is unmistakably 2005's Pemberley (aka the home of Pride and Prejudice's Mr. Darcy). Jane Eyre is a decent film, in a technical sense, but it neither says anything new nor entertains enough to make up for that.

The Hunger Games Makes the Jump to My Cinema

I have been obsessed with The Hunger Games since I first sunk into Katniss's world. Over on My Bookshelf, I waxed poetic about how the series helped me recapture that Harry Potter, so eager in anticipation magic. So I can't believe it's taken me this long to comment on the casting of the scary-as-hell, god-i-pray-they-harry-potter-it-and-not-golden-compass-it movie adaptation.

First, Katniss. The girl who was on fire. For this dark skinned, dark haired, badass warrior, the movie chose Jennifer Lawrence, who may be badass but is decidedly not dark skinned nor dark haired. And honestly? If the movie wants to cast a blond oscar-nominee over a brunette who can't act, I'm down with it.

That goes for Peeta and Gale too. In the books, Peeta is blonde and I always imagined kind of all-american-boy looking, with broad, bakers' shoulders and an open face. Gale is darker skinned and haired, more like his long time best friend Katniss. And the two actors they cast? Josh Hutchinson, dark haired and smaller, is Peeta, and the light-haired all american-boy Liam Hemsworth is playing gale.

But honestly? I never cared that Daniel Radcliffe had blue eyes rather than green, and I don't care that Maggie Smith is older than I pictured McGonagall. What I care about is that these actors are capable of bringing my beloved characters to life. And by casting people with no overt physical resemblance to the characters (e.g. by NOT casting Alex Pettyfer as Peeta just because he has blond hair, despite the fact he can't act), I'm making the leap of faith to believing that they are casting based on talent. A leap of faith underscored by how talented I KNOW Jennifer Lawrence and Josh Hutchinson are.

So color me cautiously optimistic for the movie adaptation of this challenging, fascinating and heart breaking book series.

And also cautiously optimistic they'll cast Robert Downey Jr. as Haymitch.

The Adjustment Bureau

The Adjustment Bureau could have been a really great film. At its core it's full of interesting philosophical questions, ones that introduce possibilities that both fit into and are new to global spiritual narratives. Ideas of fate, free will and intelligently designed plans are expressed alongside darker ramifications like the sacrifice of potential in some for the ultimate success of others. The thought that the plan for our lives is always being rewritten, that there are angel-like forces at work in our world to enforce it, the fact that there are lingering effects from previous incarnations of our plan, the possibility that our plan involves cutting someone we love's life short so we can be driven to succeed... the fact that there is a plan at all, an architect, the chairman! There is so much intellectual possibility in this film.

And it expands from there. Writer/director George Nolfi plants these ideas into the world we're currently living in and then ties them back through time, using the highs and lows of human history as evidence for his mythology. The whole thing is quite brilliant. But then it starts to break down.

The 2010 My Cinema HONORARY AWARDS

Introducing the annual My Cinema Honorary Award. This distinction, announced separately from the rest of the winners, is awarded each year to celebrate standout achievement in any given category. We have 2 winners this year, because we simply couldn't choose. Winners aren't nominated in the regular My Cinema Awards. Rather, they're honored separately as the best things that happened in cinema all year (whether they be directors, actors, cinematographers, writers, etc...).  It just so happens that both of this year's winners are actors. Without further ado, this year's winners are...