First Look: The New Muppet Movie

Take an exclusive first look at this photo from the new Muppet movie. Now I dare you not to love Jason Segel (not to mention all the other wonderful cuddly creatures in this photo!)

The Social Network and Sexism

Sometimes I think I see sexism in movies where there isn't any. I think that I am oversensitive when I whine about the portrayal of women in Hancock, or the dearth of legitimate female friendships, or the double standard represented by the MPAA's recent decision to categorize "male nudity" as separate from "nudity," while maintaining that female nudity is just "nudity."

But then other people start whining about something fairly innocuous in a brilliant film, and I realize I'm actually quite sane. The recent internet controversy over perceived gender discrimination in a film revolves around The Social Network, I guess because whenever a movie has that high of an approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes people need to find something to whine about.

The claims basically stem from the fact that the few women in the film are either a) crazy, b) topless or c) Rooney Mara (who one article refers to as "the bitch who got away"). This is pretty indisputable, although I'd throw in Rashida Jones as a relatively positive female force in the film. In fact, Jones' character is the only one able to get through to Jessie Eisenberg's Zuckerberg, and she provides the film with the closest it has to a summation of purpose. But okay. Let's discount her, since it's a pretty gender neutral role and besides does one female lawyer really undo the rest of it?

Well, my point is not that The Social Network has a lot of positive female characters. It's that why the hell should it? As someone who has searched throughout my pop culture career for female characters who are as daring and interesting as their male counterparts and often found the selections wanting, I can still see that not every movie needs to be about female empowerment. That would get kinda dull.

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More importantly, the story of facebook as streamlined by Sorkin and Fincher in The Social Network, is a story in which every single character is defined solely by their relation to Eisenberg's Zuckerberg. Andrew Garfield is a wimpy loyal noob* incapable of saving himself from irrelevancy. Justin Timberlake is an almost lustfully appealing go getter turned pathetic self-defeating drug addict. The women, therefore, that surround them represent Mark Zuckerberg's (or at least Sorkin's fictional version of Zuckerberg's) view of women, and more specifically the type of women who would come into his life by virtue of that being his view of women.

More importantly, the mere categorization of Mara's character as "the bitch that got away," displays the view of the author that a woman who objects to being repeatedly told she is stupid, worthless, and inherently in the debt of her male companion is a bitch. That's absurd. No one leaves that scene thinking that Mara was in the wrong to dump the shit out of Zuckerberg.

Anyway, while I understand the urge to criticize popular films, especially for perceived biases, and I think that everyone is entitled to their opinion whether or not I agree with it, I think that sometimes our gender backlash takes us so far away from the real issue that it helps to disguise legitimate claims to sexual discrepancies in cinema and make it all seem to come under the category of typical womanly whining.

And that really makes me sad. :(

*pathetic attempt at incorporating internet slang acknowledge and the author is adequately ashamed of it.

The Social Network

Earlier this year my father bought Life Magazine's "100 People Who Changed the World". I read the thing cover to cover. There were tons of omissions, none quite so confounding to me as Mark Zuckerberg, the founder of Facebook. My dad didn't understand why I insisted that the 26-year-old billionaire should be on the list, "Facebook'll be gone in 5 years" he argued. Well, I highly doubt that, I actually think it will morph and grow to the point where there's hardly a need for external websites (really all it needs is a live video chat, a document-sharing/sending method and a comprehensive online shopping component and Facebook will include every top web activity their is). But even if Facebook ceases to exist, the next big thing comes along and usurps its throne, it has already changed the world. It's a noun, multiple verbs and an adjective. It's changed how we interact with one another and how we present ourselves to the world, how stars rise, politicians campaign, humanitarian funds are raised and protests start. Sean Parker and Napster changed the music industry forever, Mark Zuckerberg and Facebook changed the world.

With such scope of influence, every event in Facebook's evolution had the power to affect the entire world. That's the story The Social Network tells, a small story of friends and foes, egos and emotions, jealousies, insecurities and hurt as played out with international reverberations. I've often said that screenwriter Aaron Sorkin's work is Shakespearean in tone: grand, poetic, rich in character detail. But nothing is more Shakespearean than a personal story with larger than life consequences. The intricate and engrossing story of The Social Network is beautifully told and Sorkin's is the perfect unique voice to hear it in.

Perhaps the film's greatest strength is the complexity of its characters. Zuckerberg is neither hero nor villain, but rather a guy, a flawed every man who's surplus of intelligence creates a natural deficiency in social arenas. As played to perfection by indie darling Jesse Eisenberg, Zuckerberg inspires frustration and incredible pathos in almost equal supply. He lacks tact and is a terrible judge of character but he means well, I didn't doubt that for a second. He's remarkable for so many things: his genius, his wit, even some of his priorities (money and female attention take a backseat to ambition and acceptance); and reprehensible for others: his thoughtlessness, his arrogance, his obsession with social improvement and his lack of loyalty (though there's a great moment at the end that throws this particular issue into question a bit). Despite being based on a real person, Eisenberg's Zuckerberg is a film conception, a complex human character rather than an accurate portrayal of the human himself.

The other characters are given similarly complex portrayals. The twin golden boys Cameron and Tyler Winkelvoss (Armie Hammer) who sue Mark for stealing their website idea could easily have become villains, but Sorkin writes them as conflicted good guys both pissed off at being beaten at their own game and cautious of being taken advantage of. Eduardo Saverin (played with pitch perfect empathy by Andrew Garfield), the other character in direct opposition to our "hero", is actually the most easily likable person in the film in my opinion. Unrelentingly loyal until pushed beyond his breaking point and armed with good business sense and an accurate judge of character, Eduardo is the put-upon victim of the film's events. However, his hesitation to join the company in California, his traditional approach to a non-traditional venture and his too-trusting nature make him an easy target. Eduardo also serves as Mark's proxy to the outside world in a lot of ways. He's the translator who understands both the socially strange Zuckerberg and the world he struggles to interact with. At the end of the film, though he's been taken advantage of and stabbed in the back in many ways, one gets the sense that Eduardo will be just fine. But as a particularly heart-wrenching scene points out, he was Mark's only friend. Without Eduardo, Mark is alone. Successful, famous, powerful and alone. It's Mark who's ending has the ring of tragedy to it.

The one character complaint I have is the simplicity of Sean Parker. Compared to the other characters, Parker (played with wonderful irony by Justin Timberlake, one of the foremost musicians affected by the rise of Napster) is not very interesting. He is tricky and engaging but ultimately too obviously devious to really win me over. A more complex portrayal of Parker could better explain the allure he held for Zuckerberg. As it is, that pull shows the weakness of Zuckerberg more than the power of Parker. Although maybe that's the point (and who doesn't love Justin?!)

But what's one tiny little complaint in the world of awesome that is The Social Network?

The intricate characters exist in a cinematic world perfectly constructed by director David Fincher, within a story that is endlessly fascinating, superbly timely and undeniably engrossing. The pacing of this wonderful drama/thriller/origin story hybrid is dead on and the dialogue clever as hell (naturally, with my beloved Sorkin holding the pen). A character-perfect quip about BU's lighter workload effectively has insecure students up in arms and the throw-away use of one of my favourite grammar jokes (Winklevi!) had me cheering with geeky delight. Sorkin makes a quick cameo for the fan with a keen eye, a Facebook aficionado will love the nostalgia of the old-school interfaces from the site's early days and the dorky fun of the drunk livejournaling/coding adventure that kicks off the story sets the tone for the delight of watching really smart people play dirty.

The whole thing is as perfect as it could be for a film with such high expectations attached to it. With The Social Network, Fincher and Sorkin have together created the film that defines right now and how we got here.

My Cinema Crush: Jesse Eisenberg

I first saw Jesse Eisenberg* in the 2005 film The Squid and the Whale. In it, he played the mostly unlikeable, snobbish son of a couple going through one of the most nasty divorces ever put to film. The movie showed Eisenberg's transition from gawky, assholeish teen to sympathetic young man against the back drop of his parents' marital decline and childishness, and its his rehabilitation that provides the films backbone. It's a fascinating, frustrating film, that is carried primarily by its then-21-years-old stars fantastic, nuanced portrait.

Perhaps its because of this that I never quite got the Michael Cera comparisons. If anything, way before Juno and Superbad made Michael Cera anything other than George Michael from Arrested Development, I already had Eisenberg on my radar as a young man to watch, who could make the awkward and unlikeable strangely sympathetic and redeemable, and who worked best within complex, beautiful scripts that dealt with universal themes like jealousy, heart-break and what it means to care about other human beings.

This isn't a review of The Social Network. Kelly, as this site's Editor In Chief, has claimed the honor of writing about that breath-taking film. This is about why Eisenberg comes out of it seeming so damn triumphant, and why it's worth taking a look at his previous filmography to establish that this was not a fluke. Eisenberg is a star to watch, a man who can go from charming to awkward to brilliant without batting an eye, but who never sacrifices the reality of his characters for cheap jokes. On top of the aforementioned The Squid and the Whale, Eisenberg has started his career by playing a wide variety of characters in a plethora of highly-praised, semi-independent films. His two most popular films, Adventureland and Zombieland (hmm...), are probably the most responsible for the Cera-comparisions, but they showcase a lot of what makes Eisenberg unique. He radiates an intelligence that is charming, but he's also so legitimately awkward and gawky that he makes his characters' isolation seem believable (Cera, who by the way I REALLY like, in contrast, is always on the normal side of socially awkward, a geeky cutie who girls want to take home and cuddle). He also plays darker, both in Adventureland's forays into heart break and doucheyness, and in Zombieland's lust for zombie death.

But it's his less famous roles that really distinguish him. Whether it's playing an Orthodox Jewish drug smuggler in Holy Rollers or a grown up dealing with his high school bully in The Education of Charlie Banks, he's built an impressive body of work for a 26 year old (let's ignore The Village for the time being). On top of that...

I kind of found his extremely selfish, social awkward, douche bag portrayal of Mark Zuckerberg kind of adorable. I hate boiling down what is a very legitimate argument about a young man's artistic prowess into a squeally, girly, "HE'S SO CUTE," but, well, this is a series of articles called "My Cinema Crush."

I had to seriously question my moral compass when I watched him screw over friend after friend and yet just really wanted to give him a hug. Partially that's cause Eisenberg portrays him with this ferocious, strangely moral intensity that without ever spelling out Zuckerberg's true motivations, we feel that he is operating the best that he knows how within a world that always seems tantalizingly outside his grasp. But partially that's cause Eisenberg makes truly awkward douches redeemable and, yes, adorable.

So there it is, the first in my series of cinematic crushes articles. Jesse Eisenberg, geeky douchebag extroardinaire.

PS. Today coincidentally is Jesse Eisenberg's birthday. Happy Birthday, Jesse. *or at least remember seeing him, since I know that he was in stuff before that ** If you really want to see why this kid is so damn engaging, check out this moviephone video with him, Justin Timberlake, and Andrew Garfield. It takes a lot to out funny-and-laid-back the erst-while boy bander, but Eisenberg damn near pulls it off.

The Town

Full disclosure: Although I've never joined a fan club, written a celebrity a letter, or started a blog dedicated to my love for a boy band member, Ben Affleck is the closest thing I have to a life-long celebrity obsession. It's not even a romantic obsession. I don't doodle his name on my notebooks, and I think his wife is pretty freaking fantastic. But I feel deeply and personally invested in Affleck's success. Even back in his Bennifer days, when my much cooler cousins and friends would say things like, "Ben Affleck's only ever been good in one movie- Dazed and Confused because he was playing himself," I was secretely touting his performances in movies like Changing Lanes and Chasing Amy, and referencing his ease and intelligence on talk shows. When other people saw only a gambling, alcoholic pretty boy with capped teeth and expensive taste in jewelry, I was hooked on Project Greenlight and Dogma. So when 3 years ago Hollywoodland came out, followed closely by Affleck's fantastic directoral debut Gone Baby Gone, I felt a personal sense of "I Told You So!"

You might say, then, that I was meant to love The Town. On top of the previous Affleck-related prejudice, it was shot in Boston, so all the locales made me literally squirm in my seat with glee and nostalgia. It starred Affleck himself, plus the always delicious John Hamm (aka Don Draper). And it was a moody, occasionally funny thriller about dubious antiheroes. More or less Rachael catnip.

But that also means that I went in with absurdly high expectations. And The Town met every one of them. I was invested in the tale of Charlestowne bank robbers from the first violent seconds through the moody, beautiful finale.

Affleck directs with an ease and grit that one would have thought impossible from a guy whose only ever created two feature-lengthed films. On top of that, he puts in a career best performance as the "one last job" bank robber at the heart of the film.

There's not much in The Town that, on paper, exceeds the normal trappings of a heist film, but Affleck and his talented crew of actors never make a single second feel obligatory or cliched. There's a palpable energy and authenticity to the film that makes every second a thrill.

Easy A

Teen comedies live or die based on their casts. A brilliant script is a plus, kicking direction can be a boon, and an original concept is always appreciated, but they live or die based on their casts. Think of the very best teen movies (Ten Things I Hate About You, Mean Girls, Can't Hardly Wait, Saved!). Almost all of those have great scripts, good direction, whatever, but what do you remember when you walk out? Heath Ledger crooning "You're Just Too Good To Be True," Rachel McAdams verbally bitch smacking her minions, Seth Green's wangsta chic, or Mandy Moore's hilariously sincere religious zealotry. Good scripts are wasted on crappy casts, but a great cast can elevate a relatively pedestrian script.

Emma Stone is a one-woman great cast. There's a persistent rumor that women can't be funny that no amount of Tina Feys or Anna Faris or Amy Poehler or Lauren Grahams can overcome. I don't blame people. I've seen a lot of movies, and 90% of the time women get few laughs (often at their expense -- oh whoops! I just tripped! hahahahaha, women, aren't they funny?) while they're male counterparts go off on random, extended riffs designed to leave you howling. Emma Stone, however, unlike most of her age group, is legitimately funny. It's not just her lines. She almost never relies on pratfalls. She's not gross out or ridiculous or over the top. She's just funny.

I remember watching Superbad, a movie that lots of people decried as being anti-feminist and boyish, and thinking that the best thing that Judd Apatow, Seth Rogen and crew had done was to cast this strangely down to Earth and witty creature as Jonah Hill's love interest. Sure it was absurd that someone so gorgeous would be interested in Hill's Seth, but damn if Stone didn't seem such a natural in the part that you almost believed her. Over the years, my regard for the actress has only grown, whether she was fighting zombies or battling with crushing stupidity in The House Bunny. She's a natural comedian on screen.

And Easy A is the perfect vehicle for her. She gets to be funny in the same way as male comedians have been allowed to be for years- going off on monologues, getting herself into awkward situations, and generally trying to be the best she can be. On top of that, her character is an amazingly intelligent, self-assured teenager (teenager being the operative word here- even the most self-assured teenagers are prone to bouts of stupidity) and a fantastic one to boot.

Easy A is loosely based off of the ideas of The Scarlett Letter. Stone plays Olive, an ignored but intelligent high school student. When rumors of her devirginization with a college freshman spread like wildfire throughout her small town high school, she enjoys and exploits the attention. When that quickly grows (she tries to help out a gay and bullied friend by pretending to sex him up at a party, which leads to others wanting a similar popularity boost) into full on ostracizing for the supposedly sexually adventurous senior, Olive decides to take a "screw you guys" approach and embrace her outsider status, going so far as to embroider The Scarlet Letter inspired A onto her increasingly scandalous wardrobe.

The plot is decent, and actually touches on some really interesting issues (sexual double standards, marital infidelity, and being yourself in the face of, well, high school), but it's the cast and popping script that make this a movie worth seeing. The script continually dances on the border of being overly cute, but thanks to the direction and the cast it seems as sure footed as a gymnast on the high bar (how's that for overly cute for ya?).

On top of Stone, the rest of the cast shines. As Olive's absurdly chill parents, Patricia Clarkson and Stanley Tucci will make you wish to trade your own parents in, no matter how fantastic they are (sorry mom and dad, just kidding. Comedic exaggeration, don't ya know). They have a natural paternal chemistry with each other and with Stone that truly elevates their scenes. Penn Badgley, as Olive's sort of love interest, is great but never over-shadowing (this is Stone's pic, after all).

The other highlight is Dan Byrd as Brandon, the friend who first convinces Olive to descend into the work of imaginary prostitution, whose comedic rhythms fall into such natural hilarity with Stone that you'll be left wanting more. The scene of their supposed coitus at the party is as hilarious and raunchy as anything Judd Apatow ever produced.

Amanda Bynes is actually pretty wasted in her role as a Mandy Moore-esque Christian boogey man designed solely to torture Olive and provide a punching bag for her verbal snark. Frankly, she seems bored. And Lisa Kudrow is similarly useless in her tiny role as Olive's favorite teacher's wife, who turns out to be rather less than inspiring. But that's okay, this picture doesn't need hilarious bad guys when the good guys are this good.

Easy A is not revolutionary, but movies like this don't need to be. Much like its star, it has the natural charisma to feel like an instant classic, and leave you wishing you were still 14 so you could watch the movie on repeat and not feel like a freak.

A Piece of Work

The documentary about Joan Rivers is doing really well. It's gotten a lot of great press, strong ticket sales and a 91% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes. It also happens to be really good. It's fascinating, disturbing, funny and tragic.

I've never been a Rivers fan, and the film not only told me why that's true (her jokes are not consistently very funny but are consistently polarizing, she looks like an alien and she's a little off her rocker) but why it shouldn't be (she's tough, feisty, very human and a little off her rocker).

Highlights include footage of a young and vibrant Rivers in her early days on The Tonight Show, the heartbreaking tale of her losing the friendship of Johnny Carson, a scene showing her stomping on a heckler at a standup show (with more wit and heart in those improvised moments than in the rest of her act) and the harrowing reality behind her forced smile at the Comedy Central roast in her "honour". The unsettling opening shots of Rivers applying her thick makeup in extreme closeup are never built on with an in-depth discussion of her plastic surgery compulsion, but strangely it's not her other-worldly aesthetics that hold the fascination of Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work.

I've never known Joan Rivers as anything other than the scary lady making fun of everyone's dresses on the red carpet. But tonight I saw her scared to open her play in New York because she thinks everyone hates her. I saw her confess that no man has ever called her beautiful, ever. I saw her scratch her way back into the limelight after losing everything. I saw her cope with the suicide of her husband and the betrayal of friends. I saw her in her 20s, looking just like Chelsea Handler as she pushed the envelope on what women were allowed to say. I saw her at age 75, staring hopelessly at an empty date book. I watched as she held tightly to her grandson's hand as if frightened he might slip away and listened as she passive-aggressively tossed around Kathy Griffin's name, her comedy descendant and... replacement, really.

The film's most moving moments are when real tears spill over Rivers' botoxed cheeks. When she talks about defending her daughter's honour, Rivers begins to cry. But it's when she reveals that she had to fire her long time friend and manager that she really got to me. The scary lady got to me, and I truly appreciated for the first time that she's a person, not a punchline. She may look fake, but she's real (and tough as nails to boot, not to mention loyal beyond reason). The revelation that with her manager gone she has "no one left to say 'remember when'," is heartbreaking. And when she speaks of being an actress at heart, playing the role of the comedian, her entire crazy persona snaps into focus.

Everyone already knows how this film ends. After winning Celebrity Apprentice, Joan Rivers has been back in the spotlight in the past few months. She's released a new book and been performing steadily. The film goes out with the once-empty date book now filled with work. But the truly great thing is that over the course of a couple hours, the audience has come to care about the scary lady from the red carpet. We get her now: she's very strange, but at the core of it all she just wants people to like her. Doesn't everybody? Joan Rivers has been around for decades, fighting to stay in the industry she loves, no matter how many people try to get her to disappear. She really is a Piece of Work. And now, people who once couldn't have cared less, can smile with knowing that the success of this documentary means that Joan Rivers is still holding on.

First Look: The Tempest

In a joint article with other My Entertainment World website My Theatre, here are some preview photos from one of my most anticipated films of the year: Julie Taymour's adapatation of Shakespeare's The Tempest. Due out on December 10 (in the year of the play's 400th anniversary) from Touchstone pictures, The Tempest stars Helen Mirren as a female version of the film's hero, Prospero. Comedian Russell Brand, Alfred Molina, Alan Cumming and Djimon Hounsou also star.

Taymour, who's direction and design for the stage adaptation of The Lion King won her notoriety, praise and Tony Awards, is tackling her second major Shakespeare adaptation with The Tempest. The first is an iconic Titus that is at once brilliant and bizarre. The Tempest promises to be similarly enthralling.

Salt: predictable, badass and predictably badass

I'll keep this brief, there's not actually a lot to say about this film. The coolest thing about Salt is that the lead role was originally written for Tom Cruise and then tweaked to fit Angelina Jolie. The fact that a skinny chick like Jolie is in practice a hundred times more badass than Hollywood's erstwhile favourite action hero, is pretty darn cool. The film flies by, the stunts are great, the pacing perfect and the performances pretty decent. The story's okay, the effects impressive and the dialogue acceptable. In fact, Salt would be a truly awesome absurd summer movie if it weren't for one thing.

I've heard people complain that she should be dead within the first 10 minutes. I don't actually care about that fact at all. If we were looking at realistic survival statistics James Bond would never make it out of the scrapes he gets himself into. No, I'm all for bizarre heroics and feats of inhuman strength and cunning. My problem is predictability. Let's pretend for a minute that Liev Schreiber didn't accidentally let slip the big twist on The Daily Show (and desperately try to cover it up- to moderate success). I still think I could have seen it all coming

*** SPOILER LINE***

Of course Angelina's one of the good guys- she's the title character! They establish pretty quickly that she loved her civilian husband, we see her withstand torture for her country and she's clearly the most capable and smartest character in the cast. If anyone can think of an example in which such a character was anything BUT the good guy I'd certainly like to hear about it. In contrast, I don't recall ever having seen Liev Schreiber play a good guy. He's always duplicitous. Besides, he comes out of the gate all proclaimed national heroics and over the top personal loyalty- they set him up as perfect, and the perfect guy is NEVER perfect, especially if we hear more about his perfection than see it. Their good/evil flip could be seen a mile away by anyone even remotely familiar with Hollywood tradition. It was pure laziness in an otherwise enjoyably executed action movie. Angelina (just awesome enough to make up for being a little creepy) deserves better from a movie for which she agreed to dangle from a windowsill 11 stories up.

Ramona & Beezus

Beezus and Ramona was my favourite book when I was little. I read it with my mom. Then I read the rest of the series, all 7 of them. I haven't revisited these beloved books in years but, remembering them as a cornerstone of my childhood, I couldn't have been more excited (and apprehensive) when I heard they were making a movie.

But as more and more details about the film reached my ears, my reservations eased. The title (Ramona and Beezus, the reverse of the original book), which annoyed me at first, made sense considering the film would be an amalgamation of all 8 books not just an adaptation of the first one. I was greatly reassured when I heard the sweet story that Beverly Cleary had agreed to sell the rights after all these years only after reading the producer's 4th grade book report on Ramona. But it wasn't until casting began that I knew I would like Ramona and Beezus.

The producers went with a relative unknown for Ramona, the delightful Joey King who would make her mark in the iconic role instead of bringing kid star pedigree to it. The tricky role of Beezus (the sympathetic character as seen through the eyes of her little sister could have looked like a bully) went to Selena Gomez, easily the most endearing of all the Disney Channel princesses, who was beautiful in the role. In a perfect casting stroke of genius, they chose my beloved John Corbett to play Mr. Quimby. Corbett, always charming, always warm, usually goofy, has a wonderful fatherly presence and his 6'4'' frame and baby face give him the perfect balance to simultaneously play hero to his daughters and regular guy trying to get by. The small but fun role of Ramona's teacher went to the always wonderful Sandra Oh and dreamy/fun Tad Hamilton..err... Josh Duhamel would play Hobart. But the piece de resistance would be Aunt Bea. Without the perfect actress to capture Ramona's grownup counterpart, the film just wouldn't be right. But these producers knew what they were doing and made the most perfect of all perfect choices: Ginnifer Goodwin. I adore Ginnifer Goodwin, I've loved everything I've ever seen her play since the day she first captured my heart as the self conscious cellist in Mona Lisa Smile right through to her standout work on Big Love. And as fun-loving, hopeless romantic Aunt Bea she brought the perfect cuddly warmth and kiddie spirit.

And that PERFECT cast was given some great stories to play. With highlights chosen from all the books, Ramona and her Father took centre stage (being the most resonant in today's economy and all) with the love story being borrowed from Ramona Forever. Writers Laurie Craig and Nick Pustay chose all the right stuff from each of the books (almost all of them were represented somehow), making for a beautifully paced, poignant and timely character story.

I laughed the whole way time at Ramona's earnest audacity, Mr. Quimby's sweet antics and Beezus' silly adolescent worries. And from the sisters' heart-to-heart straight through to the bittersweet ending, I cried my eyes out- happy, nostalgic tears, not at all unlike Toy Story 3 tears. It was moving, sweet and the first time something I loved on paper as a kid has ever been made even better by the big screen.

Inception: Part 2- Interpretation

But what the hell does it all mean?

SPOILER WARNING. I purposefully left my review vague, so you could read it without having seen the movie. No such promises will be made here>

It's understandable if you're left scratching your head at the end of Inception. I think you're meant to be. Nolan and co. leave it purposefully ambiguous, and I think that way you read the film is dependent on your personal world view. The way you read the film, by the way, can also help determine how much of a masterpiece you think it is - certain interpretations eliminate any potential plot holes, while others turn the whole film into plot holes. You might think this is because one interpretation is "right" while the others don't make sense, but I think Inception beggars that type of simplicity.

The film that Inception most recalls is, somewhat obviously, The Matrix. That is a movie similarly obsessed with playing with, exploring, and deconstructing our views on reality. However, unlike The Matrix, which played more to a philosophical crowd in between the intense action scenes, Inception isn't interested in name dropping established philosophies. It establishes its own world with its own rules, and more or less follows those rules in its pursuit of philosophical truth (I would argue that The Matrix, in contrast, synthesizes given philosophies and picks and chooses from those philosophies in its pursuit of truth). In this way, Inception is the more authentic exploration, since it never feels bogged down by the pretentiousness that eventually sunk The Matrix.

The film also recalls Nolan's own Memento, which plays with the ideas of the frailty of memory and reality, and with the mind's own desire to protect ourselves. Given the question of interpretation, I actually think this is the more telling comparison. For those of you who haven't seen it, Memento tells the story of Leonard, a man who loses his short term memory around the same time his wife is murdered. He spends the majority of the movie trying to track down his wife's killer, while dealing with the limitations of a disability that makes it impossible to understand his own interpretation of the universe around him. In the end, he can't even really trust himself.

The movie establishes a world where people can enter each others' minds and then leaves it at that. It never explains, nor should it. This is the universe we are asked to accept, and our acceptance hinges on the idea that the universe itself has a set of determined rules to be followed. Our ability to interpret this universe, therefore, is dependent on these rules and how accurately applied they are.

In Inception, our protagonist is Cobb (DiCaprio), an "extractor." Basically his job is to go into people's brains and take out their secrets, and as we are told he is one of the best in the business. The movie follows him as he attempts the opposite, namely inception, where he gives a person an idea. The movie's established rules for both extraction and inception are that once the brain realizes that a person or idea is false, it fights it off like a virus. Thus true inception is practically impossible, because the brain necessarily understands that the implanted idea is foreign and destroys it.

In theory that's the plot. It's the reason why Cobb gathers together his team (Gordon Levitt, Ellen Page, Tom Hardy, etc.) and it's the attempt to infiltrate Cillian Murphy's mind that drives the films action. However, the most exciting, frustrating and intriguing questions come up within Cobb's own story.

Cobb has a past, the uncovering of which is the actual fuel of the plot. To synthesize, Cobb was once married to Mal (Marion Cotilliard) and had two adorable children with her. They were both interested in exploring the potential of the dream technology. They pushed themselves too far, and ended up in limbo (a sort of purgatory for the dream-explorers, where time moves so slowly that you can live out decades of your existence and if you're not careful your brain can turn to mush), where they lived out a full life together. However, Cobb was always aware that this world was fake. Mal, on the other hand, hid that knowledge from herself, and therefore gave herself over fully to the dream world, losing her sense of reality and eliminating her ability to "kick" back to reality. In order to combat this (AND SUPER SPOILER WARNING COMING HERE), Cobb planted the idea in Mal's subconscious that her reality was fake. This is how he knows inception is possible. It also, however, is how he knows how dangerous this all is.

See, once Cobb and Mal got back to "reality" (and again, this is all open to interpretation), Mal still had this idea in her subconscious that her reality was inherently fake and that the only way to escape was to die. So she killed herself, begging Cobb to follow her to freedom. Cobb, tied to reality by way of his children, refused, and she framed him for her murder. Cobb then fled the country, and became a dream thief, desperately trying to get back to his kids. He's in this state when Ken Wattanabe's businessman, Saito, approaches him to try out Inception on Cillian Murphy. But he's haunted by the "ghost" of Mal, who foils his attempts at both thievery and inception, and constantly reminds him of his own guilt and causes him to question his own sanity. On top of this, he's no longer capable of normal dreaming, and builds himself a nightmare dreamscape where he is trapped with nothing but his regrets.

That is all more or less straight forward. Sort of. But what exactly is reality? Where do Cobb's dreams, or Murphy's dreams, or Saito's dreams end, and true reality begins? Your answer to these questions depends on your own personal viewpoint. Cinematical.com has a fascinating study of 6 different interpretations, but curiously it ignores my personal favorite, which I will elaborate here. If you want to read the other six, follow it here

My theory is thus: I take the movie at its word. That is to say, when Cobb decides something is reality (up until the very last scene) I agree that it is. They are in reality when they take the job from Wattanabe, and they are in the dreamscape once they plug in with Murphy on the plane. Maybe this is a simplistic viewing, but in my opinion it works just as well as the "it's all a dream" argument. If you follow the movie by its own admissions, then the only question left is the ending.

Throughout the film, DiCaprio's totem remains a visual link between reality and dreaming. The ending of the film is left intentionally ambiguous as to whether or not the totem is going to fall. With my theory, our interpretation of the ending tells us if we're a pessimist or an optimist. Do you believe that Cobb escapes and gets back to his children, or do you believe he's still trapped in limbo?

Personally, I think he's in limbo. I've got some evidence. For one, his kids didn't age, and they happen to be wearing the exact same thing they were in his memory. For another, how did his father even know to pick him up at the airport? Third, why exactly didn't he age when Wattanabe did?

After reading the cinematical piece, I found myself buying the whole "it was all a dream" narrative far more than I did while watching the film. However... it kind of doesn't matter. The point is the questioning. In film school, they made me watch a bunch of infuriating non-narrative films that were all about the experience and the subconscious. There was no logic to be followed in these films, no secret narrative to be uncovered. In a way, Inception is a non-narrative film wrapped in narrative, and uncoiling those layers is the process that gives the film meaning and eventually leads us to the catharsis that Nolan wants from us, regardless of our interpretation.

Inception: Part 1- Review

By Rachael

I think that in talking about Inception, you can do one of two things. First, you can analyze what the film means - what was Nolan saying, what does his world consist of, does it make sense? Second, you can actually talk about whether or not it was a good movie. I'm not saying the two parts are unrelated, nor am I arguing that one is more valid than the other. My point is merely that in a movie like Inception, I think the interpretation has less to do with whether or not it's a film worth watching and praising and more to do with the fascination that lingers after the film is over.

As such, I plan on writing TWO articles about Inception, which may be self-indulgent of me, but I think is the most authentic way to talk about this challenging, fascinating film. As such, this article is not interested in the "What does it all mean?" questions, but rather the most basic question of film reviewing, namely, "Was it a good movie*?"

My answer to this question is an unequivocal yes. Leaving aside all questions of interpretation, tempting though it may be to indulge in them here, Christopher Nolan's mind fuck of a film is still a masterpiece of epic proportions. The visual landscape alone, from the soaring metropolis's that make up the filmmaker's playground to the intimate dreamscapes, is cause for celebration. The artistry of the fight scenes, especially those starring the fantastic Joseph Gordon Levitt, is as revolutionary as any since (and we'll talk about this A LOT more in my interpretation) The Matrix.

Leonardo diCaprio brings his usual controlled chaos to his role as the central figure navigating someone else's subconscious. It's a role he's almost getting too comfortable in (as a huge fan of diCaprio, I don't want him to get stuck into one rut so early into his career, no matter how meaty the rut), but you can't deny that he's great in it. As for the rest of the motley crew of dream-jumpers, Joseph Gordon Levitt and Tom Hardy stand out, not just for their inherent badassitude, but also for bringing some much needed levity to some of the film's heavier moments.

The story is fascinating. Whatever your interpretation, you can't say that Nolan makes boring films. For a man who's films have grossed well over a billion dollars, there's nothing superficial about Nolan. He's asking big questions, and making bold cinematic statements. He challenges the typical notions of films, and has a visual artistry that is nothing short of profound.

Not to put it in too soaring and dramatic terms, because honestly I'm put off by all the "it's the greatest movie ever" gushing, but Inception marks a high point in the career of a man who has seemed to have nothing but high points. It represents a culmination (I refuse to say "the culmination" because I'd like to think Nolan has a lot more to show us) of the journey that Nolan started in Memento, a journey he continued through both of his batman films as well as his smaller pictures like Insomnia and The Prestige.

This is a man deeply interested in exploring reality, both cinematic and actual. And Inception is a film obsessed with these metaphysical concepts, yet grounded enough in reality that it makes the whole thing gripping and fascinating.

*Please don't conflate basic with simple. What makes a good movie is the basic question reviewers have been trying to figure out for years.

Not At All Despicable Me

By Rachael

I've come to take it as a granted that my favorite movie of the summer and year will probably be a Pixar film. I've learned to accept that the film that's going to bring me to the highest level of pathos and enjoyment will inevitably be something brought to me in animated form. This has been true since Ratatouille. But since last year*, it seems like the other animated studios are stepping it up,and, with absolutely no offense to Toy Story 3 (which was brilliant, fantastic, moving and amazing), actually challenging Pixar for its dominance of brilliance. And while Despicable Me doesn't quite unseat Toy Story 3, it comes so damn close it's pretty remarkable.

Despicable Me tells the story of Gru, a super villain by trade, who comes up with a plan to increase his super villain cred that requires the adoption of three little girls. It doesn't seem like a great premise, but damn if this movie doesn't make the tired "maladjusted guy needs children to make him grow up" premise and ring every laugh, joy, and tear out of it.

Major props should go to Steve Carrell's excellent voice work (the accent alone is enough to power at least half of the movie's jokes) as well as a fantastically surprisingly witty script (that doesn't fall into the "cheap pop culture" joke camp OR the "cheap fart and poop" joke camp that dog children's movies). But it shouldn't be understated how fantastic the art direction is on this piece. Although it forgoes the soaring landscapes of a typical lauded film, the overall look of this film (campy, ridiculous, and yet still beautiful and deep) really helps to keep the constant, goofy jokes and engaging narrative alive. Look no further than the brilliantly crafted "Minions" than to see how excellently these guys do silent physical comedy.

In the end, the result is a movie that is one part classic Mel Brooks farce (or maybe old school Pink Panther film, the Peter Sellers kind, not Steve Martin), one part The Incredible, and one part Big Daddy. Yet despite that weird concoction, the result is something fantastic, surprising, pee-your-pants funny and infinitely quotable.

*which saw The Princess and The Frog, Coraline, and Monsters Vrs. Aliens all stepping up the non-Pixar-studio game

Twilight: Eclipse

This post is brought to you by My Cinema's new writer, Rachael.

To begin with, a disclaimer: If the mere thought of sparkly vampires makes your blood boil, if you're so sick of Robert Pattinson's face and Taylor Lautner's abs that it makes you feel like Edward when Bella stands in front of a fan; or if you feel the sort of natural revulsion towards Stephanie Meyer's super-popular series that is normally felt by vampires towards werewolves, stop reading now. Nothing I say, or the movie series does, is going to change your mind. Go see Toy Story 3, or hell The Avengers, and forget that I even mentioned it.

They gone? Now for the rest of us...

I came upon the Twilight series in the summer of 2008. It was a dark summer in my life, and Stephanie Meyers' series was exactly what I needed: frothy, romantic, absurd, and anger-making. I instantaneously devoured the books, pouring over details, and found myself overcome with anger and frustration. Then the fourth book came out, followed closely by the first movie, and despite myself, I found I was the foremost expert on all things Twilight among my group of admittedly not-exactly-target-audience friends.

To summarize my thoughts on the first two movies, since I think it is relevant to my feelings about Eclipse: I thought Twilight was exactly what a movie version of Twilight should be: absurd, anger-making and filled with soulful longing. New Moon, on the other hand, was overly serious without being any better of a film, and despite the excellent emphasis on Taylor Lautner's beautiful Jacob Black, I couldn't recommend the film, even to my friends less inclined to dislike it.

And so it is with a minor disclaimer, and a fair amount of confidence, that I say that Eclipse is as much of a success as any movie based on the Twilight books can be.

With David Slade (30 Days of Night) behind the camera, this installment of the series that made abstinence cool is the very first to truly excel at anything other than lustful longing. The action sequences are kinetic, fascinating and occasionally frightening. The acting is more naturalistic, less tic-y, and (best of all) compelling. Even Kristen Stewart, who myself and thousands of Twilight fans have hated on since she first pouted her way into Edward's heart, is made into a fully flesh and blood actress in this film.

But let's be honest: nobody goes to a Twilight film to see Victoria's head get ripped off. They go to see just how far Edward and Bella and Jacob will take things this time. The thing that really sets David Slade apart from previous Twilight directors is his deft melding of the action-y fantasy and the romantic dramedy playing out in front of us. He wisely uses Robert Pattinson's ever-increasing dramatic range to offset Taylor Lautner's natural comedic instincts, and the result is a love triangle that is compelling, even as it's so clearly predetermined. The movie wisely uses the book's greatest strengths (basically, how intriguing the characters of Edward and Jacob are) to offset the weaknesses (Edward's possessiveness, Bella's inaction).

The film is flawed: the pacing is occasionally off, the dialogue often ham handed. But David Slade brought out the natural grace of Stephanie Meyer's characters and let them run free. Look no further than Jessica's valedictorian speech (completely made up for the movie), in which recent Oscar-nominee Anna Kendrick delivers one of the movie's major themes in a smart, witty, fun and character-appropriate speech. Slade gets both what makes teen girls flock to Twilight, and how to make a fun movie for people of all ages.

And yes, R Patts is pretty as hell, and Taylor's abs continue to look chiseled out of something godly.

The Case for Simplicity

Tom Cruise is very good at stunts. He runs fast, shoots well, can dangle from a building, throw himself into things and generally leap and fling about heroically. He's also charming, can hold the camera's focus and deliver a line effectively. He's quirky, can play interesting characters and instantly earns the audience's trust, even if most of them adamantly believe him to be a crazy person (a belief I don't fully subscribe to but understand the foundations for). Cameron Diaz, though never a favourite of mine (except in My Best Friend's Wedding, she's adorable in that), is similarly charming and capable. Paul Dano is one of the best young actors of his generation, delivering standout performances in some of the most acclaimed films of the decade. Viola Davis has 2 Tonys, 2 Drama Desk awards and an Oscar nomination to her name. Peter Sarsgaard is basically a god of complexly layered characters. Knight and Day had a basically solid script with strong backstory, decent characters, an engaging conflict and good pacing. The components were there for it to be a not-too-guilty summer pleasure movie. It seemed destined for action-comedy triumph.

So why is it so darn bad?

The answer is one word, and one word only: EFFECTS.

Knight and Day is brimming with action sequences so over complicated that it'll make your head spin. It takes you all over the world, into situations the story doesn't require or support and on more motorcycle and classic car rides than you can shake a stick at. But we may as well have been in the 1970s for all the technological sophistication in this film. They had an actor with more stunt experience than almost any other and yet couldn't just let him do his thing. A couple simple shootouts, a well-shot explosion here and there, some cleverly choreographed fights and maybe one chase scene (done properly, with actual chasing) was all the film needed to fulfill the action requirement in its action-comedy definition. But no, for some reason, a motorcycle ride through the running of the bulls was somehow deemed mandatory. So instead of a cleverly fun film featuring some truly engaging talent, we got a distractingly over-ambitious romp that looked like it was made at a local access channel using the weatherman's green screen.

There are few things more aggravating than a movie that could have been decent destroyed by a single department, and in the case of Knight and Day, the blame lies entirely with the special effects guys.