More Than One Lesson

ZOMBIELAND (2009)
Directed by: Ruben Fleischer
Written by: Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick
Starring: Jesse Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson, Emma Stone, Abigail Breslin

I remember hearing the theory that those few that were incredibly popular in high school will go on to achieve very little, because their lives have already peaked. On the flipside, those that were misfits in high school will go on to great things, both because the high school experience toughened them up and they have something to prove. I’ve found that this theory, while greatly over-simplified, is sort of true. The more of an outsider you are, the better chance you have for survival in this cold world.

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MICHAEL MOORE HATES AMERICA (2004)
Written and Directed by: Michael Wilson

I didn’t expect this to be a good film. I really didn’t. My misgivings about filmmaker Michael Moore’s dubious tactics aside, there’s no question that the slew of straight-to-video retaliatory movies made in response are pretty bad. Often, they’ve been made by people that have no filmmaking experience. They are as sloppily constructed as Moore’s films are technically brilliant.

For all the anti-Moore films that I had seen, I was hesitant to watch Michael Moore Hates America. With a title like that, who could ever hope for subtlety or nuance? Any director that picked that title surely must be unable to craft a watchable film, right?

Turns out that my reservations about Michael Wilson’s film were largely without merit. Despite the inflammatory title, this movie tries as hard as it can to be truthful, ambitious, and comprehensive. As one would expect, there are budget constraints; this is never more clear than when Wilson attempts to mirror Bowling For Columbine‘s animated NRA sequence with one of his own. The animation is shoddy, and it detracts slightly from the point he winds up making.

What Wilson lacks in financing he makes up for in honesty. Perhaps the most powerful moment in the film is when Wilson lies to a subject about the nature of the documentary in order to get an unbiased reaction. Afterward, there is a discussion between Wilson and his producer about resorting to Moore’s methods. Wilson sends a letter to the subject coming clean. The subject writes back, stating his disappointment in Wilson’s deception, but allowing the footage to be used anyway.
Wilson didn’t have to use the footage of his producer’s dissenting opinion. He didn’t have to tell us about sending the subject the letter. He does anyway. Why?

Perhaps because, briefly, he realized just how easy it is to tiptoe across our own moral boundaries when we believe ourselves to be on the side of right. For just a moment, Wilson saw what it was to be Michael Moore, a man whose unquestioning belief in the purity of his own motives has led him to mislead millions of filmgoers.

It’s the clearest example of Wilson’s approach to the material. Many of the other anti-Moore films are merely reactionary. Wilson has chosen to make his frustration with Michael Moore a jumping off point; an opportunity to talk about larger things than his quibbles with one filmmaker. He also seems to see it as an excuse to show us the America that Moore so often disparages.

Wilson talks to rich people, poor people, soldiers, business owners, and countless others. The portrait of America that is created is one of promise and optimism. An admission that we’re certainly not where we should be, but an acknowledgment that we’ve come a long way in relatively little time. Interview subject Penn Jillette sums it up nicely by stating that, taking large chunks of history at a time, we’ll find that there are two things that are always true: the world is always getting better and there are always people claiming that it’s getting worse.

Michael Moore Hates America is a surprisingly humble attempt to show the other side of the conversation. Moore has constantly stated that the majority opinion is on his side, which is why he has had so much success (a decidedly free market way of thinking, it should be noted), and so it would seem to those of us whose opinion of Moore’s work is not very high. Living in Los Angeles and having previously lived in Chicago, I can attest to being in the minority when it comes to my feelings on Michael Moore.

However, what Wilson shows is that there are plenty of people out there that see Moore for what he is: a shameless- yet talented- propagandist. Most notable among these people is Albert Maysles, a pioneer in the documentary field, responsible for such brilliant works as Grey Gardens, Gimme Shelter, and Salesman. Maysles’ views on what makes for a documentary seems to stand in direct opposition to those of Moore. He feels that a documentarian must first find a way to love his subject (or at least attempt to understand it) before making a film about it. This love will engender a desire for honesty. Moore, he says, is motivated by a hatred for his subjects, which leads to an urgent call to do anything and everything to help others hate them, too. As documentary is arguably a search for truth, we can only conclude from Maysles’ philosophies that Moore, while having considerable talent in filmmaking, leaves a lot to be desired as a journalist.

I went into this film expecting to be told things that I already knew in a way that simply wasn’t compelling; a meager first attempt at filmmaking by a conservative reactionary. What I got instead was a sensitive, personal film made in defense of an America that Michael Wilson truly loves and believes in. I’ll be the first to say that there are a lot of things wrong with the country. In fact, a few of my opinions would probably be shared by Michael Moore. But when the film was over, I found that I felt proud of the country in which I live and optimistic about both its future and my own.

As Jillette commented, given enough time, things are always going to get better, but some will only ever see it getting worse. I think that those people are necessary; we need people that are dissatisfied with how things are. But I think we also occasionally need somebody to remind us where we’ve been and how far we’ve come. That’s what Michael Wilson attempts to do with Michael Moore Hates America, and the result is a film that is both uplifting and compelling.

CORALINE (2009)
Written and Directed by: Henry Selick
Starring: Dakota Fanning, Teri Hatcher, John Hodgman, Ian McShane, Keith David

When I was growing up, I had a small collection of VHS tapes. On these tapes were various Disney movies, such as Robin Hood, Peter Pan, and the Sword in the Stone. My parents had no qualms about letting me watch these movies, though many of them, I’ve come to realize, are deeply disturbing. From the pink elephants in Dumbo to the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland to the fate of Lampwick in Pinocchio, many of these films had images that seem as though they would be too intense for children.

And yet we watched them anyway. Because maybe it’s okay for children to be a little frightened on their way to learning a lesson. It’s with this in mind that I write my review of Henry Selick’s Coraline. The story is very basic. A young girl, feeling neglected by her parents, entertains herself by exploring the nooks and crannies of her new house. As she does, she finds a small door leading to a parallel world.

This other world looks exactly like our own, but a little better. Her parents are attentive and loving, the neighbors are welcoming, and the animals talk (some even put on a show). The one creepy element in this world is that all the other humans have black buttons where their eyes should be. No matter. What these people lack in aesthetic beauty, they more than make up for in positivity and love. Coraline has a hard time pulling herself away from this wonderful fantasy. Why would she ever want to go back home? Nobody pays attention to her. Do they even notice she’s gone?

As Coraline goes back and forth between worlds, she discovers that everything is not what it seems in the other world. The more truth she reveals, the uglier the world becomes. Soon, she finds that it was all a lie, created by the Other Mother to ensnare listless children.

The parallel world and its inhabitants begin to turn into grotesque caricatures of humanity. In some cases, the inhabitants disappear altogether. In one particularly unnerving scene, Coraline finds herself speaking to an empty suit that walks and talks. Many of these scenes seem as though they might be too intense for children, seemingly its intended audience. But, then, boys turning into donkeys is pretty frightening, too, but that didn’t stop multiple generations of children from watching Pinocchio.

Perhaps it is necessary for these scenes to be so unsettling. It really drives the point home. Coraline, faced with a drab and boring reality, chose to try to escape it, embracing something that seemed too good to be true. But, when faced with the horrifying alternative, she realizes just how much she truly cherishes her parents and her friends and her neighbors. Over the course of the film, Coraline discovers that, while running from one’s problems might seem like the easiest thing to do, it might simply land one in a different- sometimes worse- set of circumstances. Perhaps it is better to simply stick it out and deal with one’s problems, insurmountable though they may seem.

This is a very adult concept: accepting personal responsibility for bettering one’s own situation. However, for children, it might be a bit too subtle. The solution? Throw in a talking cat, and a terrifying spider-like villain, and creepy mechanized henchmen. These fantastical elements keep kids deeply involved in the story, much in the tradition of the old Grimm’s fairy tales.

The animation, art direction, and voicework in Coraline makes for a fun, memorable movie watching experience. But, unlike many other children’s movies, it has a lesson to teach. It’s a lesson that kids can really benefit from. Probably some adults, too.

PUBLIC ENEMIES (2009)
Directed by: Michael Mann
Written by: Ronan Bennett, Michael Mann, Ann Biderman
Starring: Johnny Depp, Christian Bale, Marion Cotillard, Billy Crudup

As is the case with most Michael Mann films, Public Enemies is a brilliant technical achievement. From the authentic art direction to the crisp editing to the energizing digital cinematography, this film has all the technical elements required in a memorable film.

It’s a shame that I didn’t care about the characters at all.

Public Enemies is about John Dillinger, the legendary bank robber whose exploits made him a would-be folk hero across the country. The story of Dillinger- and the lawman that pursues him- seems like it would be great material for Michael Mann, who revolutionized modern crime movies with his exceptional Heat. Certainly a technical master, Mann has been a favorite of mine for years; not just for his directorial flourishes, but for his ability to relate interesting stories about fascinating people. Watching him delve into what made Dillinger tick could have been a deeply satisfying cinematic experience.

Unfortunately, however, Mann has allowed himself to get so mired in the minute details of the period and the intricacies of the events that he forgot to make Dillinger relatable. The character certainly doesn’t have to be sympathetic, nor does he need to be an open book. As a film watcher, I like having to figure some things out for myself. However, in order to do that, I need to be given some information. Just give me the slightest hint of character motivation and I’ll be happy to take it from there.

Such things are not to be found in Public Enemies, however, as I left the theater feeling no closer to knowing who John Dillinger was than when I entered. The same goes for Melvin Purvis, the federal agent tasked with catching Dillinger. His motivations remain as elusive as those of his quarry. We sometimes feel that Purvis is conflicted about the measures to which he must go in order to gain the upper hand, but we don’t know why. Does he not have the stomach for it? Does he secretly admire Dillinger? We just don’t know.

The story of Dillinger and Purvis has been related before, most notably in John Milius’ 1973 film Dillinger. In that version, we got a strong sense of who this man was. Played with gusto by Warren Oates, Dillinger seemed like a living, breathing person, not the shadowy legend embodied by Johnny Depp. Oates’ Dillinger is not remarkably likable; he is more of a charismatic brute. But at least he has a pulse.

I don’t know why Mann was apparently reluctant to dig deeper into his subject. He is clearly committed to preserving the authenticity of the period and events; perhaps he felt strongly about not overly fictionalizing an already larger-than-life historical figure. Whatever his reasoning, Mann’s hard work at bringing Dillinger’s world to life ultimately amounts to nothing. What does it matter how amazing this created world is if we don’t care about the people inhabiting it?

There are a couple of characters that stand out. Marion Cotillard transcends the fairly thankless role of Billie Frechette. In films like this, there is almost always a woman whose job it is to worry about the protagonist. Here, Cotillard imbues Frechette with credible vulnerability, helping us to believe that this woman still exists when Dillinger isn’t around. Billy Crudup is also memorable as J. Edgar Hoover, who capitalizes on the crime wave to snatch more power for himself. Played as an unshakable optimist, whose smile doesn’t even fade when being berated by his superiors. Lastly, Stephen Graham creates a truly loathsome Baby Face Nelson. His recklessness and indifference to human life does more to define our protagonist by contrast than anything Dillinger does directly.

For me, the most notable directorial choice is in regards to the violence. Michael Mann has never glorified violence. In his career, Mann has done everything he can to emphasize the fragility of the human body and the inherent brutality and heartlessness of violence. He takes no joy in depicting these scenes, and we take no joy in watching them. We cringe when innocent people are hurt, as one would expect. What’s interesting is how heartbreaking it is to watch Dillinger’s men go down. Dangerous though they may be, when they’ve been shot several times and are slowly bleeding out, their sad acceptance of their fate reminds us that these men are human beings, too. The graphic depiction of Dillinger’s assassination may seem excessive to some, but I view as wholly necessary.

It is unfortunate that only in death do we feel something for these characters. Perhaps if Mann had put as much humanity and care into depicting these people’s lives as he did their deaths, Public Enemies could have been one of the best films of the year and a worthy addition to the gangster genre. As it is, it feels like little more than a missed opportunity. A prime example of style over substance.

Living in Los Angeles has really had an interesting effect on my faith. Having met with a fair amount of ridicule and hostility (some direct, some not), I found myself becoming more and more argumentative. I immersed myself in Apologetics; that is, the practice of approaching Christianity with logic, reason, and analysis for the purpose of a deeper understanding of the faith. I became absolutely hooked. Once I started to read one argument after another in defense of Christianity, I couldn’t stop.

My drug of choice was C.S. Lewis. I started with “Mere Christianity,” then moved on to “Miracles,” “The Problem of Pain,” and “The Four Loves.” His practical, yet faith-based, approach to the teachings of Jesus were exactly what I was looking for. So I went out into the world of the internet, armed with arguments, looking for a fight.

It got to the point that I would have trouble sleeping at night, rehearsing rebuttals to what an atheist friend might say.

It was an interesting circumstance. I had a fuller, deeper understanding of Jesus and the sacrifice he made for us, and yet I had no peace or joy. Apologetics is supposed to be a tool, but I was fully prepared to wield it like a weapon.

I realized that it was my personal pride that had gotten in the way. It wasn’t so important that I defend the faith as it was that I won the argument. As such, I had only read the material to find key points that would strengthen my rebuttals.

I decided that, as my new understanding wasn’t actually helping my relationship with God, as it was meant to do, I would have to change my approach to Apologetics. Rather than trying to find a way to prove myself to others, I would look for a way to glorify God.

Once I made that decision, I started looking at these books in a whole new way. Suddenly, I found myself having discussions, not with atheists, but with my fellow Christians about the wonder and grace of God. In these talks, we would deal with our own questions about Christianity, not by simply acting as if these questions were wrong and should be ignored, but by thinking through them and listening to each other, using Lewis and Driscoll and Keller as reference points.

God gave us inquiring, reasoning minds and the freedom to use them. Some would say that within this freedom lies permission to simply accept whatever we like as the truth. However, what I came to realize was that, the more questions I had, the more answers I discovered. The more answers I had, the closer I came to Christ.

Apologetics was never meant as a way to win arguments. It was meant to incorporate inquiry and intellect into the faith so that we might be able to better comprehend and verbalize what Jesus did for us. I find that, if I focus on that aspect of Apologetics, I have fewer debates and many more conversations.

Celebrity gossip has been around since the early days of theatre. When movies and television came along, America’s interest in Hollywood gossip skyrocketed. People were intrigued to know more about the performers that they tuned in to watch every night. Public interest in a performer could turn him into a star, to the point that talent was rendered almost completely moot. A person’s career could shatter if public opinion turned against him (see the unfortunate case of Fatty Arbuckle for heartbreaking evidence of this).

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I know I’m a little late to this party- and that my opinion seems to be in the minority- but I’m a really big fan of Parks & Recreation, the new show from the makers of The Office. It is by no means a perfect show, but it has real potential. I’ll talk about the show as a whole another day. Right now, though, I want to single out my favorite aspect of the show.

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Why can’t it ever be Kate? There have been a lot of casualties on “Lost,” but Kate is never one of them.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. She’s very attractive. I’m with you on that.

But Kate is my least favorite character. From the very beginning, the writers and producers of the show tried to make her seem interesting. They hinted at a sordid past, in which she broke the law and lived life on the run.

Then came the day when an episode aired entitled “What Kate Did.” I’m sure, for some, the opportunity to finally get Kate’s backstory was an interesting prospect. I’ll admit, I was looking forward to it, but for different reasons. I was excited about it because, once it was revealed to us, the show would stop trying to intrigue me about an essentially bland character.

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Tyler and Josh discuss Harold Cronk’s God’s Not Dead 2 and Otto Preminger’s Anatomy of a Murder.