Just yesterday, my friend was telling me about viewing Guess Who's Coming to Dinner in her race class. This 1967 film was obviously groundbreaking in its depiction not only of an interracial relationship, but also of a black man who does not fit black stereotypes. However, over forty years later, "Where is equal racial representation in Hollywood?" is still a question unanswered. The New York Times published an article examining the dearth of diversity in this year's Oscar nomination party. You may want to check it out: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/13/movies/awardsseason/13movies.html

Thank you, Joss Whedon!

Dear Joss Whedon,

Thank you for your years of service to the entertainment industry. Thank you for giving the world the hip supernatural and science fiction television shows that you have so brilliantly created. But most of all, thank you for creating a group of independent ass-kicking female characters. In film and television, female characters are too often written into supporting roles, only allowed to be wives, mothers, or figures within the madonna/whore dichotomy. But you, Mr. Whedon have changed things, placing women into roles and situations that were new to us.

First, there was Buffy. The 1992 movie was great and the television show was even better. In Buffy, we found a girl who could kick some serious vampire booty and make corny jokes in the process. She wasn't a robot (though there was a Buffy bot at one point) -- she had good traits and bad traits, but she always got the job done, protecting mankind from evil supernaturals. Buffy's scooby squad of sidekicks included her best friends Willow and Xander. While a loyal friend, Xander often took the back seat to Willow, the super brainy witch with a dark side. Later in the series, Willow discovered she was a lesbian. She's not a stereotypical butch lesbian or a man-hating lesbian or a super-sexy, man-titillating lesbian, but a representation of a real lesbian, who has relationships with other real lesbians. For a couple early seasons, Buffy worked with a fellow slayer, Faith. Eventually, Faith decided to drink the cool aid and turned to evil. Nonetheless, she was tough and proved that women don't always have to be good. We can be dark and mean just like male villains, thank you very much.

Then, we have Angel. The central character is the super-cute, soul-bearing vampire Angel, but his spot atop the supernatural detective pyramid is held steady with the help of his assistant Cordelia and Fred. Cordy, who was the Sunnydale bitch-who-owned it on Buffy, moved to LA and helped Angel solve mysteries. She is outspoken and tough; spiders might make her scream by she can kick a demon's ass. Throughout the series, she matured and became invaluable to Angel's agency. Part-way through the series, a succession of hi-jinks led Angel to find the brainy mathematician Fred in a cave in an alternate dimension. She joined the team and blossomed as their personal think tank.

Last but not least, we have Firefly. Firefly was gone too soon, but its short run showed us a host of awesome female characters. The ship, Serenity, was captained by Malcolm Reynolds. However, it could easily be argued that his tough-as-nails first mate Zoe outdid him in brains and balls. She wore the pants in her relationship with Wash, and saved the rest of the crew time and time again. The ship's mechanic, Kaylee, was bubbly and broke stereotypes because she knew everything there is to know about machines. In one episode, we learn that she beat out a guy for the position on Serenity. Then, we had Inara, the ship's resident companion (aka courtesan). She spoke her mind and was in control of her sexuality. She took a commonly stigmatized and marginalized social figure and made it elegant. In fact, she was the only one on the ship who was not on the run from something or someone. Last, there was River. Held in a government facility before being rescued by her big brother, she was slightly nuts, but wicked smart and incredibly insightful. In Serenity, the movie based on Firefly, we learned that River, with her pixie dresses and army boots, was a serious badass with the ability to face her demons and fight off hordes of commandos all by herself.

So, thank you, Mr. Whedon. The characters you have created show weakness, but it is because they are human, not because they are women. As women they show strength, intelligence, and sensitivity that makes them role models for all of us. You also show that femininity and non-violence do not necessarily go hand in hand, a misconception that has been reinforced for far too long. I am truly grateful that someone finally put these figures on TV and only regret that they can only be found in science fiction.
Sincerely,
Alexandra

P.S. I haven't seen Dollhouse, but I can only expect that Eliza Dushku's character is awesome.

Introduction to Italian Cinema

I know, I know, you've been thinking for some time now that your film education isn't quite complete without a familiarity with Italian cinema. As I said in past posts, I recently fell in love with Italian cinema, so it would be my pleasure to suggest a few films to get you started...

1. The Bicycle Thieves (Vittorio de Sica, 1948) -- Okay, so you knew this one was coming, but really -- no education on Italian film or even Italy itself is complete without The Bicycle Thieves. It is the story of a man in dilapidated post-war Rome whose livelihood depends on his bicycle, which he needs for his job. However, his bike is stolen within the first twenty minutes and the rest of the film follows him and his young son Bruno as they try to find it. This film is also has the key hallmarks of Neo-Realism, as it incorporates social issues, on-location shooting, and non-actors. The title in Italian is Ladri di Biciclette, which means Bicycle Thieves. This is actually a much more accurate and appropriate title. Once you watch the film, you'll know why...

2. La Dolce Vita (Federico Fellini, 1960) -- Possibly Fellini's most famous film, La Dolce Vita is a commentary on Italian life after the economic miracle of the 1950s, when the standard of Italian living shot up. The film centers around a journalist, played by Fellini's "alter-ego," Marcello Mastroianni and his sordid affairs with the rambunctious Roman in-crowd. Known internationally, La Dolce Vita depicts a time in which Italian sensibilities shifted and displays the Felliniesque artistry that influenced later generations of filmmakers.


3. Divorce, Italian Style (Pietro Germi, 1961) -- Also starring Marcello Mastroianni, this film about a man trying to divorce his wife takes place before divorce was legalized in Italy. Therefore, his only option is to kill his wife in a fit of passion and partake of the archaic Honor Laws, which state that if someone kills their spouse after finding him or her cheating, jail sentences are minimized. Mastroianni is wonderful as an over-the-top caricature of himself in this hilarious social commentary on the backwards nature of the legal system and Sicilian social codes.

4. Cinema Paradiso (Giuseppe Tornatore, 1988) -- Cinema Paradiso is a film about people who love films. Set in Sicily, it tells the story of a young man and how he came to admire the cinema with the guidance of his mentor, a theater projectionist named Alfredo. The film displays the beauty of the Sicilian landscape and also shows the changes in the island over the main character's lifetime. It is a poetic and beautiful tribute to filmmaking.


5. The Best of Youth (Marco Tullio Giordana, 2003) -- This film/TV mini series is six hours long and spans about forty years of Italian history. It follows brothers Nicola and Matteo through their adult lives, as they take very different paths both politically and personally. The film takes place all throughout Italy and has a soap opera like tone, which will keep you hooked. The Best of Youth is a crash course in modern Italian history and depicts the changing sentiments throughout Italian society.

So there are just a few movies I would suggest to get you started. If you enjoy these, the fun doesn't have to stop! There are hundreds more that you would like. If there is a special place in your heart for Italian cinema as there is in mine, you may also like to check out my discussions on select films on my "Cinema Italiano" page, coming soon. Until then, Ciao!

So Bad It's Good

Last week, I was dying to veg out and watch a "so bad it's good" classic -- The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension . If you are not familiar with this gem, please allow me to illuminate you. Made in 1984, this film stars Peter Weller as a neurosurgeon/ particle physicist named Buckaroo Banzai, who along with his scientist rock band the Hong Kong Cavaliers, save the world from aliens.

After changing the world of science by passing through solid rock unharmed, Buckaroo ignites an alien uprising and gains the ability to see the aliens in their true forms. To the average human eye, the bad aliens take on the appearance of creepy characters like John Lithgow, Dan Hedaya, and Vincent Schiavelli, aka the subway ghost from Ghost. The good aliens, who aim to help Buckaroo, take the form of Rastafarians. All the aliens have the same "lets be human" name: John, with last names ranging from Parker to Smallberries. Christopher Lloyd is particularly good as the evil John Bigboote (pronounced big-booty). Did I mention that this all takes place in my beloved motherland, New Jersey? Need I say more? No, but I will.

Equally as awesome as the plot of Buckaroo Banzai are the characters. Key members of Buckaroo's squad/rock band are his number two man, tough guy Rawhide, Jeff Goldblum as a cowboy called New Jersey (Why? I truly have no idea), and Billy Idol look alike Perfect Tommy, who indeed does seem perfect. Early in the movie, Buckaroo finds his love interest, played by Ellen Barkin. When they meet at his concert, she is crying in the crowd and he consoles her with the wise words, "remember, no matter where you go, there you are." Her name is Penny Priddy (yeah, sounds like Penny Pretty) and she is a bi-polar near idiot, who seems only to get in trouble. But she turns out to be Buckaroo's dead wife's long-lost twin sister. It really is a small world (with aliens).

Without doubt the best part of the movie is the end credit scene. Buckaroo is walking through some random large open space (I would describe it more, but I don't actually know what it is). As he walks, other characters, including those who'd died, join him. They basically walk and dance as the group grows and the characters magically change outfits. It's strangely heartwarming and the perfect ending to a ridiculous movie.

So, it you have the time and feel like being amazed, pick up Buckaroo Banzai and remember: "no matter where you go, there you are."

Let's Talk About Sex Part I

Let's talk about sex. Let's talk about Mickey Rourke and the Diner popcorn gag. Let's talk about the ceiling of the dugout in Fast Times at Richmond High. Let's talk about the innuendo and censorship and what that says about America and our films. For some time now, I have been interested in examining sex on film. It is not because I happen to be a college student with one thing on my mind (though that certainly helps) but because it is a subject related to the history and culture of the nation in which a film is produced and the plain and simple fact that the development of sexual content, like that of race and class, is an aspect of film history. The issue also brings up long-lived debates like those of censorship and art cinema versus pornography. The whole scope of this subject extends beyond my purview, but even what I do feel secure writing about is too much for one post. So, I shall publish a series of entries regarding sex in films. Tonight, let us begin with the thin line between art and porn.

In the documentary series Indie Sex, one critic commented that the only difference between graphic art cinema and porn was lighting. Fortunately, another countered that, in art cinema, sex would change the character either physically or emotionally. My personal views would land somewhere in the middle. Take, for instance, 9 Songs (Michael Winterbottom, 2004) and Shortbus (John Cameron Mitchell, 2006). Both are landmark films becasue they use real sex and neither is a porno. In 9 Songs, a story of a hot and heavy couple, not every sexual encounter has significance to the plot. Some are important to the development of the characters, whereas others seem just to fill space. Indeed the nine songs that act as chapters in the film mark the development in the characters more than the sex. On the other hand, each sexual act in Shortbus, which is set in an underground sex club, tells the audience something about the characters or story world. In some cases, whom a character is having sex with and how they are doing it says more about him or her than anything else. (The development of Shortbus is also very interesting. I suggest you investigate it sometime.) Based on these films and many others, I would insist that the distinction between art and porn should be based on the intentions of the director or writer, whether they are to incite an emotional reaction or to arouse While much of art interpretation should be left to the audience, at least the genre can be decided by the filmmaker -- we may laugh at Gigli, but it's still kept on the 'Drama' shelf.

Of course there is quite a difference between artsy independent films and mainstream movies, in which sex is injected into the film to titillate the audience. There are different standards and expectations. Once you enter mainstream media, it is a question of censorship rather than judgment and sensibilities. The first female on-screen orgasm was in the '20s or '30s, so why does it seem that we went backwards?

Tune in Next Time...

To the Nines...

Last night, I watched Rob Marshall’s Nine (2009). The film, starring Daniel Day-Lewis and a star-studded collection of Hollywood actresses including Sophia Loren and Judi Dench, was a play on Fellini films, mainly Otto e Mezzo. The film follows the trials of the womanizing director Guido Contini, clueless as to how to make his next picture, as he faces pressure from the press, producers, and fans. Throughout the film, there are thematic and iconic references to Fellini films and intermittent song and dance sequences. Each character, with the exception of Louisa (Marion Cotillard) and Guido, gets a song, tailored to his or her personality or significance to Guido. For instance, Carla, Guido’s mistress (Penelope Cruz), sings dressed in lingerie about her lust for the director.

The film was somewhat difficult for me to judge. The venture and the outcome were both great achievements. However, this film faces twice as much pressure as almost any other original film because it is judged not only as a film in and of itself, but also in comparison to Fellini’s originals. Nine was based on a play, but certain cinematic techniques that can link Nine and Fellini’s work can be found only here. The comparison is more apt because the same medium is used.

At some points, Nine hits the notes perfectly. This was thanks to some wonderful performances; Marion Cotillard was beautiful and Daniel Day-Lewis was wonderful in his Marcello Mastrioanni rendition. He slipped up on the accent sometimes – especially when pronouncing “Mamma” as “Mama” (nitpicky, I know, but important when his Mamma is a significant character and played by Sophia Loren) – but overall channeled the allure and absurdity of Fellini’s original well. The film also sometimes accomplished the melding of Fellini images and dance numbers. The most striking example of this is Saraghina’s “Be Italian,” during which a memorable scene from Otto e Mezzo is recreated and paired with the forceful and passionate song.

There were also certain images and themes which connected Nine to it’s predecessors. For one, the clouds of cigarette smoke that swirled through each scene hearken unmistakably to Fellini films, as did the image of Daniel Day-Lewis in sunglasses with a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. Marshall also utilized several themes that are common in Fellini films. Among them were infidelity and mockery of Catholicism, or religion in general. In La Dolce Vita, there is a rather amusing scene dedicated to the de-sanctification of religion in which pilgrims and press are made to run around according to the whims of children claiming to have seen the Virgin Mary. Similarly, in Nine, a priest explains that the church publicly denounces Guido’s movies, but secretly, they are all big fans. Another theme that this film has in common with Fellini’s and many other Italian films is the emphasis on and repeated depiction of children. These aspects of Nine were well-crafted homages to Fellini's films.

However, other aspects were not as cohesive. The dance sequence the fared worst was Stephanie’s (Kate Hudson) flashy Hollywood-Goes-Italian number. I understand this play on Fellini’s technique of inserting blond American stereotypes into the plot, but the addition is wrong for a couple of reasons. In La Dolce Vita, this figure, played by Anita Eckberg, has an effect on the main character even though in the long run she makes almost no impact on his life. In Nine, Stephanie really means nothing to Guido. Further, while most of the songs are from Guido’s perspective – that is, the songs depict Guido’s ideas of the women – Stephanie’s depicts her ideas of Guido. Perhaps the change in perspective was meant to signal some sort of development in Guido. However, therein lies another dissimilarity between this film and the originals.

In Fellini’s films, the main character, especially as played by Marcello Mastroianni, often does not evolve, but instead ends the film in much the same emotional or psychological condition as he began. And if he is not the same, he is worse. However, in Marshall’s rendition, Guido improves, as does Louisa. Louisa liberates herself from her unhealthy marriage and reboots her career. Meanwhile Guido realized the error of his ways and attempts to make amends, or at least to make a masterpiece as an enlightened man. Either way, Nine diverges from the norm. In other ways, the film just doesn’t feel right. It is difficult to explain whether it was the tone, the actors, or the pace, but something just didn’t feel like Fellini. But, then again, it wasn’t Fellini; it was Marshall. And it was very good film, albeit pale when compared to the originals.

Sleepless with Sleepless

While studying abroad in Italy, I developed a fondness for many things. Among them, Italian cinema, spaghetti carbonara, and Sleepless in Seattle. The spaghetti carbonara is slightly irrelevant here and in the future, I will definitely discuss Italian cinema at length. But tonight, I am looking to talk about Sleepless in Seattle because, while it has become very comforting to me – during sleepless nights aboard, it was the only movie on my iPod to save me from creepy silence -- the film also irks me to no end. I bought it on-sale off iTunes because, not having seen it for quite some time, I remembered it as a cute, romantic chick flick – and I’m always in the mood for a cute romantic chick flick. So, I bought it thinking that it would be similar to When Harry Met Sally, which I love. Where the logic was, I am not sure, because the only thing the two movies have in common is Meg Ryan. Sleepless in Seattle does not have the instantly endearing quality of When Harry Met Sally. Perhaps it is the lack of Billy Crystal or the Affair to Remember motif in lieu of stimulating dialogue or the fact that Sleepless is one of the many movies in which Meg Ryan plays the exact same character and When Harry Met Sally is not.

But really, none of these reasons are legitimate because (1) in French Kiss, which I quite like, Meg Ryan is Sleepless’s Annie in a French-Kiss costume, (2) the Affair to Remember motif provides for an easy way to connect with female audiences in a we-love-this-movie-too sort of a way and (3) I enjoy plenty of movies without Billy Crystal and Tom Hanks shines as Sleepless’s male lead. The real reason this movie leaves me so perturbed is that I find it hard to sympathize with most of the characters most of the time. As a female viewer, I suppose I am meant to identify with Meg Ryan’s character and find Tom Hanks’ son, Jonah, cute. However, I find it difficult to do either.

Jonah is possibly the most annoying kid ever -- second only to his abbreviating gal pal Jessica -- and I can’t really stand Meg Ryan’s Annie at all. She actually uses her journalist connections to send a PI across the country to spy on Tom Hanks based on what she hears on a radio show. Romantic? Not really. Stalker-ish? Yep! If she had I sassy gay friend, he would have slapped her. Then, Annie lies to her fiance, throws her hands in the air up like so many of Meg Ryan's other characters and goes to Seattle, where she achieves nothing except almost becoming road kill. Nice. As I re-watch the movie, I find myself looking forward to scenes that Annie is not in -- in particular, the tiramisu scene, in which Rob Reiner explains the world of 1990s dating to the widowed Tom Hanks. Apparently the key was tiramisu and imitating Cary Grant. (And I must say, Rob Reiner, I quite agree.)

So, although, this film holds a special place in my heart, it annoys me. And after thinking about it for much too long, I have decided that it irks me because, on top of its other obvious faults, the last scene is the only time that the main characters say more that one word to each other. Indeed, it is only the third scene they share. I understand the concept of magical love at first sight, but please -- this is pushing it. At least in shit flicks like The Lake House, there is some communication between lovebirds, even if it is in the form of letters sent through time and space. At the same time, this is probably why I enjoy When Harry Met Sally so much. That is realistic and romantic, which is difficult to come by.

Here endeth the venting...A more serious topic next time, I promise.