Four Lions is the story of 5 men in the UK who set out to martyr themselves as suicide bombers.

Did I mention it’s hilarious?

It also does something pretty emotionally powerful, in that it allows the viewer to see the humanity behind these people who are plotting a terrible thing. I was especially struck by the homevideo footage at the end. How many times have we seen one of these videos pop up after an attack of terrorism? These videos stand in the media as the full representation of the person(s) involved, and yet they are such a tiny part of the whole story. Not that terrorism should be condoned or that people who perform violent acts should be felt sorry for, but we could all use a little less blind hate–which is most often the driving force behind such outrageous and violent acts anyway.

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But for now: I’m a huge Edgar Wright fan. And, almost as much as I enjoy watching his cinematic treats, I love reading what he writes about movies. For example, here.

2009, dir. Peter Jackson

The Lovely Bones is the story of Susie Salmon (Saoirse Ronan), a teen girl who is murdered by George Harvey (Stanley Tucci), a man in her neighborhood. The story is told by Susie, post-death, from “the in-between” as she watches her family struggle with her loss, investigate and discover her killer, and try to move on.

Sigh.

I could care less about these characters. They were such caricatures, so obviously acting that they really should have just been screaming, “Hello, I’m an Actor!” the whole time. It would have at least been amusing, and possibly less cringe-worthy. The best part of the story–Susie’s family fighting to find her killer and the killer’s continuance to get away with it–were enjoyable. Except we kept being pulled from it to watch Susie prance around the “in-between” (a place half-way between the life she left behind and heaven). This equalled nothing but a constant and annoying interruption into a story that was otherwise flowing.

The shining bright spot was the marvelous Stanley Tucci as George Harvey. I must admit, this movie sparked in me a red hot crush on the man. Please, let’s forget that this comes when he’s playing a creepy, murderous pervert. I don’t even want to think what that might say about me. Let’s focus on his talent and those gorgeous eyeballs instead. Yowza!

I also appreciated the set design and costuming. They gave the real-world environment of the film a nice sentimentality. This was especially true for me in regards to the charm bracelet. It’s Susie’s and George keeps it after killing her. My mom had one just like it and she used to let me wear it when I was young. On it was a house charm just like the one on Susie’s. My mom also had a toilet charm and a toaster charm (you could even push down the little pieces of toast into the slots!).

Aside from being nostalgic and heady with Stanley Tucci admiration, I cannot say that I enjoyed The Lovely Bones. I cringed. A lot. And kept catching myself making a horrified face up at the screen.

Again: Sigh.

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2009, dir. Lee Daniels

Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire is the story of Clareece “Precious” Jones, an inner city teen pregnant with her second child… Actually, my words (anybody’s words) cannot do better than the preview did for giving you an idea of what this movie is about. Here you go:

I saw this full trailer about 5 or 6 times over the past two months. It reduced me to tears each time. It’s a powerful force, with the movie promising to be the same. I was dying to see it! But also, I was terrified. I could just imagine myself, alone in my seat, sobbing uncontrollably at the aforementioned power. I couldn’t face it. Not wanting to miss out on seeing it in the theater, I amassed a small army to see it with me last weekend.

Managing to keep tears at bay, I witnessed this remarkable slice of life. Gabourey Sidibe as Precious deserves all the accolades she is getting for her role. So does Mo’Nique. So does Mariah Carey. And Lee Daniels deserves the most of all. We lowly filmgoers should worship him for seeing the potential of, casting, and for the performances he ultimately pulled from these women — known only before as the labels society uses to pigeonhole them: a newcomer, a comedienne, a diva. And now actors. Though there is no sign of “acting” going on; each performance is raw and real.

And don’t even get me started on Ms. Blu Rain (Paula Patton) and the rest of the lovely crowd at the Each One Teach One alternative school. (This is way late, but I am just now fully realizing how many women are in this film — nice!) These girls give the movie its heart, its bursts of promise that life doesn’t have to be so dark. And Precious begins to thrive in their company — delightful moments to watch.

I know, jeez, could I gush anymore? Probably, but I’ll give it a rest now.

The only negative thing I have to say about this movie is that no matter how pleased I am that I saw it, I will never watch it again. It’s not a story one can embrace. It’s tough, it’s painful, it’s tragic. And while I think we were supposed to feel a tremendous sense of uplifted joy at the end, it didn’t work that way for me. Yes, at the end Precious walks away from seeing her mother for what is certainly the last time, with both children in her arms, and the confidence to get on with her life her way. But she is HIV positive. Her eldest girl has down syndrome. She’s 16 years old. And, not to get all armchair psychiatrist on you, but she’s only known abuse and neglect. I fear for her capabilities to manage the emotional minefield of being such a young mother in such a harsh world.

That being said, I still think about her and wonder these things. I wonder how Precious is doing now. How she made out. If she still sees Ms. Blu Rain from time to time. If she’s still alive. These character’s lives seem oh so real. And would someone please make sure that little baby sees a doctor after that fall! (see?) A fall which the whole audience jumped, gasped, screamed at, by the way.

For your additional pleasure: Mr. Lee Daniels talks on Fresh Air to Terry Gross here.

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2009, dir. Tom Ford

A Single Man is the story of college professor George Falconer (Colin Firth), a middle-aged British gay man living in 1960′s California, going through his well-planned final day of life.

George Falconer is a man with a broken heart. Through voiceover, he tells us, “for the past 18 months, waking up has actually hurt.” And so he has chosen to end his pain. Through flashbacks, we learn that his love of 16 years, Jim (Matthew Goode), and the dog they shared, died tragically in a car accident. George was not allowed to the funeral. We join him on this final day of his life, which he progresses through with methodic intention, colored with flashbacks of happier times, of Jim.

George’s sorrow is tangible. It permeates the screen and rivets the audience. The silences, the concise and dreamlike unfolding of this man’s experience and loss are a breathtaking cinematic beauty. And the question, the hope, every audience member must be asking themselves is: Which of these people touching George’s life on this day will convince him that living is worth it?

The most likely suspect is his long-time, closest friend, Charley (Julianne Moore) – a needy, boozey, dramatic, lonely woman of a certain age who harbors romantic feelings for George, as well as a long festering resentment for the love he shared with Jim. This loveley wreck would easily guilt most into never leaving her. (PS. Her purple cigarettes made me want to become a smoker!)

Also high on the list is Kenny (Nicholas Hoult), a beautiful, angel-faced student who takes a strong interest in George. Kenny is interesting because it’s unclear what his motivations are. Is he trying to seduce George, or simply eager for his mentorship? Undoubtedly, Kenny sees a kinship with George, taking a cue from his professor’s earlier speech in class and confiding, “We’re invisible.” But is that likeness because they’re both gay, lonely, heartbroken, not the person they seem? None of these are confirmed; perhaps it’s all of them.

The little neighbor girl who talks with George at the bank might do it. She sees through his veil and isn’t afraid of him. So does the gorgeous spanish man at the liquor store, who offers special attentions, the promise of a new lover.

The film carries a constant thread of melancholy, with some pitch perfect moments of tragic comedy. I loved it. I won’t give away the end, but I will quote this line: “Sometimes awful things have their own kind of beauty.”

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2009, dir. Rob Marshall

Nine is the story of celebrated Italian director Guido Contini (Daniel Day-Lewis) as he struggles to make his next film–Ialia. Set to begin shooting in ten days, Guido has no script, no story, no ideas. As the project crumbles around him, he looks to the seven women in his life. Ultimately, it is when they have all abandoned him that he finds the creative inspiration he was looking for.

First of all, I have not seen 8 1/2, which is a great regret and something I should remedy immediately. I was tempted to watch it quickly before writing about Nine, so it could inform and enrich my opinion. In the end, though, I decided it’s not such a bad thing to have seen Nine without the foundation of the subject matter it pulls from. After all, to be a genuine success, it should also appeal to those who know nothing of its influence, right? And I’m not a complete Fellini ignoramus–just mostly. I’ve seen one of his films. Parts of Nine visually reminded me of Nights of Cabira: the black and white scenes on the sand; Carla (Penelope Cruz) pulling herself along a gloomy alley at night.

Before I continue, rest assured, dear reader, that a thorough Fellini education is in my near future. Netflix queue well stocked.

Now hush about Fellini; let’s talk about Nine.

The obvious: it cannot be denied that Nine has a stellar cast. These are actors well recognized, celebrated, and awarded for their craft, and the appeal here is that we get to hear them sing! This, I believe, is what puts the people in the seats, and it doesn’t disappoint. It’s a spectacle in the shear magnitude of the people involved. Daniel Day-Lewis, Penelope Cruz, Stacy Ferguson, Marion Cotillard, Dame Judi Dench, Kate Hudson, Sophia Loren, Nicole Kidman. It was like a song lottery, each lady got one–with exception to Marion Cotillard, who, as the most important woman in Contini’s life, Luisa, got two.

Marion Cottilard. I am in love with her. Her performance of ‘My Husband Makes Movies’ is the shining moment of the film for me. While Penelope and Fergie blew me away with their voices, Marion astounded me with what she managed to say in her embodiment of the song, rather than the lyrics. Because let’s face it: the songs, especially lyrically, are pretty awful. Penelope Cruz’s fun, overly-sexualized ‘Call From the Vatican’ deserves another call out. What a brave actress!

The story of Nine is overshadowed by the people involved. It’s easy to think they’re telling us a great story, but really they’re just great performers. I find it curious that Guido Contini is driven to a place where I, as an audience member, completely lose respect for him. At the start of the film, he’s confident and playful, in love with himself, singing about how he dreams of having another person to be around who is exactly him. In the end, after he’s messed up with Luisa and seen the other women in his life walk away from him, his tune is one of self-loathing. He reveals himself to be quite needy and weak, which I find disappointing rather than humanizing. His fall was entirely his own doing. I say suck it up and get back on your feet; don’t whine at me, because I’ll believe you–you’re not a great man or artist after all.

Near the end, in a conversation with Lilli (Judi Dench), Guido mentions writing a story about winning back his Luisa. I got a jumbly rush of excitement, thinking, “Yes! This is the journey I want to see.” If felt like the story had just started, like I’d had to weed through all this history of their relationship before getting to see something I cared about–this broken man setting out finally to do something pure and from his heart. He sets to work on another movie, Luisa shows up and smiles, and that’s the end. A bit of a disappointment, if I’m being honest.

I suggest seeing Nine, not because it’s a brilliant movie, but to see these excellent actors doing something we haven’t seen them do before.

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2009, dir. Jared Hess

Gentlemen Broncos is the story of ‘Yeast Wars: The Bronco Years’–a tale written by Benjamin Purvis (Michael Angarano), a home schooled teen. He enters the story into a contest to be judged by his writing idol, Dr. Ronald Chevalier (Jemaine Clement). Chevalier steals the story, adds some creative flourishes, and publishes it as his own under the title ‘Brutus and Balzaak.’

The movie jumps between the real world and the fantasy world. We get to see pieces of both versions of the story dramatized, with Sam Rockwell playing Bronco/Brutus. We also see a third, low-budget version filmed by two of Benjamin’s friends who buy his story for $500.00. Their creative enthusiasm is admirable, their output vast, but quality? Unimaginably dreadful. In a way, the filmmakers of Gentlemen Broncos are like these two. The difference being that the Hess couple’s over-the-top silly artistic output is intentionally so. At least, I hope it is.

This is the kind of movie that was probably super fun to write and make. There’s such a freedom in letting loose, embracing childishness, and creating something ridiculously, awesomely idiotic (see: “embattled stags”). Unfortunately, it’s not nearly as much fun to watch.

If not for Jemaine Clement (and the slices of Rockwell) I would regret having seen this. As I was watching, I found myself silently whining, “When’s Jemaine Clement going to be onscreen again?” I love him so much as Dr. Ronald Chevalier, I wish I could plaster Teen-Bop style posters of him all over my blog. Like this.

And this.

Now watch this.

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1973, dir. Robin Hardy

The Wicker Man is the story of Sgt. Howie (played handsomely by Edward Woodward) who receives an anonymous letter about a missing girl from a nearby island town. Armed with her photograph, he travels to the island where the inhabitants deny the girl’s existence. Sgt. Howie persists and eventually solves his mystery. Too bad for him.

It’s immediately apparent that the villagers are toying with Sgt. Howie upon his first queries into the missing girl. Sgt. Howie seems to know this too. His character is a very firm, no-nonsense, hardcore Christian — very intolerant of the pagan beliefs and traditions of the townsfolk. Calling them “raving mad” to their faces. Quite tactless, really. Disrespectful. Yet somehow, we don’t hate him. The playfulness in which the townsfolk handle him balances it out. They tolerate his intolerance, so as an audience we maintain a temperate view of him as well. Of course, he’s playing right into their hands all along.

The end is mighty grim. Sad. Such a haunting juxtaposition of happy, rejoicing townsfolk against tragic, burning Sgt. Howie. Their most appropriate sacrifice.

It’s an odd film. Classified as horror, but not like any other horror movie I’ve seen. Taken bit by bit, it seems far from “horror”, but once you know the ending (which is indeed horrific), looking back on it as a whole is quite creepy. It is also a vague sort of musical. Strange. Another unusual element is the dual role of the villagers. Each is its own individual character, but also a second, more sinister character as a collective. It’s very effectively done and one of those stories that stays with you beyond the end. And definitely one of those to glean more from with each viewing.

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2009, dir. Joel and Ethan Coen

A Serious Man is the story of Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg) – a father, husband, physics professor, home-owner, neighbor, brother, friend, man. He is a Job-like character whose life hits a rough patch. Not understanding this streak of bad luck, he seeks advice and answers from the traditions of his Jewish faith, through the 3 Rabbis of his synagogue.

The film opens with a story, played out in Yiddish. I’m not sure how (or if) this connects to the rest of the movie. The only connection seems to be that this Jewish folk-tale and Larry Gopnik’s world are both steeped in the same heritage. Its presence is rather like that of the animated shorts Pixar presents before their features. And why not? It’s funny and dark, but don’t expect it to come back later in the movie to mean anything.

The very first thing we see on-screen is a quotation: “Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you.” I think this is beautiful. Simple. A great life mantra, and a skill I think Larry Gopnik holds. As we watch his life slowly crumble around him, it’s impossible not to notice that this is a good man. He takes it all in stride: his wife leaving him for the pompous Sy Ableman; the anonymous letters being sent to the school, defaming his character and threatening his acceptance for tenure; his loafing, aimless brother Art with mounting legal troubles; the bribery money he finds on his desk; the collection calls from the record club he didn’t sign up for; his petty, battling kids. It sucks, but he does his best to accept it. He doesn’t fight to change it, he doesn’t crumple beneath its weight. He continues on, trying to find the action that’s good and right to get his life back on track. He doesn’t want to be seen as a sad sack, he wants to be taken seriously. A friend suggests he talk to the Rabbi, and so he does.

The first Rabbi, the junior Rabbi, advises Larry to see the world around him with fresh, new eyes, and delivers my favorite line: “Things aren’t so bad, Larry. Look at the parking lot.” The second Rabbi offers the idea that perhaps Larry’s problems are like that of a temporary illness and will eventually just go away on their own. The third Rabbi is no help at all and, in fact, won’t even see Larry. One must conclude that even they, so close to God, do not know His intentions for Larry. Is it a question one should even ask? Is there ever a certain answer?

The characters are colorful and too plentiful to go into here, but every performance is a delight. This film is complex and deeply humorous. Larry’s dilemma is universally relatable — who among us, no matter what your beliefs, hasn’t at some point asked that great vast void, “Why me?” Up until the end, Larry maintains his integrity. Health fades, people come and go, things can be lost or stolen, but nothing, nobody can take your integrity from you. That, you have to give to lose.

This is the best I can do to sum up this complex story. Ultimately, in the end, the viewer is left with the same question about the film that Larry Gopnik has about his life: What does it all mean? Somehow, this uncertainty is rather excellent.

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2009, dir. Richard Curtis

Pirate Radio is the story of a group of DJs who broadcast their station — Radio Rock — from a boat anchored in the North Sea. It’s 1966 and the British government has banned rock-n-roll. One official (Kenneth Branagh) is hell bent on taking them off the air for good.

Expect spoilers.

Mega fun! And a much zanier comedy than I was expecting (delightfully so). And oh so wonderfully cast. Philip Seymour Hoffman. Nick Frost. Rhys Ifans. Chris O’Dowd. Jack Davenport. January Jones. Gemma Arterton. Just to name a few.

It begins with Young Carl (Tom Sturridge) arriving on the boat. Sent there by his mother (a fabulous cameo by Emma Thompson) after he is expelled from school for smoking and drugs to stay with his godfather and station owner, Quentin (Bill Nighy). As Quentin says, with that naughty twitch of his face, “spectacular mistake.”

And so it is through Young Carl’s eyes that we meet the men (and lady) aboard this boat. And boy are they loveable. A stellar group of father/brother figures who take Carl in with hugs and booze and laughs and cures for his virginity. A group full of love — they love women, each other, the here and now of their lives. But most of all, they love rock-n-roll. These actors must have had so much fun playing these roles. It’s painted all over the screen and reaches its arms out into the audience, tickling us into a grand ol time as well. You can’t help but root for them.

This movie stays away from getting too serious. Kenneth Branagh’s character is so over-the-top dastardly that even he is tainted with the film’s zany humor. Even the end, when a potentially very dark moment approaches, we’re saved from it by first: a “fuckload of boats” — then: an impossible, heroic re-emergence into the light. A celebration.

I’m sure I’ll watch this many times in the years to come, though it’s one of those movies that’s best seen in a theater, with an audience. The energy bouncing off the walls adds so much. The many loud laughs, the claps of joy, it really is a kind of fun that can’t be duplicated at home.

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