the CONVERSATION

Tomorrow is my turn

Well, that's it, kiddies. Silt up the comments before we turn on the force field that protects them from the sallies of Cialis et al. I'm especially interested in reading more heart-stopping movie moments so I may reorder my queue accordingly.

A special thank you to Liz for embracing the idea of the Conversation over coffee on the last day of 2004. [As a fellow recovering academic, I am so with you about the vanishing text in Eternal Sunshine.] And to the three lovely gents--Aaron, Filmbrain, and David--you have all opened my eyes.

Some among you may have figured I was tipping my hand toward Before Sunset all along,
what with the constant references to Nina Simone lyrics in my post titles. That said, I'd like to bring this iteration of the Conversation to a close by making the following observation:

Both Aaron and David singled out what they thought was the same moment I had selected from Before Sunset. To be fair, your old pal the cinetrix took the Film Comment [hi, Gavin!] rules to heart and thus stuck to a positively Ezra Pound-style minimalist approach: one ambiguous sentence. Here's the thing: They actually identified half--the male half--of a pas de deux of mirrored anguished moments.

See, Celine reaches out to Jesse, too.

And with effusive air kisses from my side of the selective memory divide, I bid you a fond a bien tot on behalf of all our Conversationalists.

Just in time you’ve found me just in time
Before you came my time was running low
I was lost the losing dice were tossed
My bridges all were crossed nowhere to go
Now you hear now I know just where I’m going
No more doubt of fear I’ve found my way
For love came just in time
you’ve found me just in time
And changed my lonely nights that lucky day
Just in time

Before you came my time was running low oh baby
I was lost the losing dice were tossed
My bridges all crossed nowhere to go
Now you hear now I know just where I’m going
No more doubt of fear I’ve found my way
For love came just in time you’ve found me
just in time
And changed my lonely nights and changed
my lonely nights
And changed my lonely nights and changed
my lonely nights
And changed my lonely nights that lucky day

THE BEST THINGS THAT HAPPENED IN THE DARK

A few moments from last year that reminded me why I love cinema so damn much.

• By strange coincidence, my two top films from 2004 shared something that simply sent shivers down my spine -- delayed opening credits. In Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, we're seventeen minutes into the film; Joel is crying for a then-unknown reason, Beck's version of Everybody's Got To Learn Sometimes begins, as do the opening credits. In Last Life in the Universe, they appear after thirty-four minutes, and from that point forward, everything changes. Absolute magic.
• Jean-Luc Godard's silent, anguished expression after being asked, "Can the new digital cameras save cinema?", in Notre Musique.
• Eric Tsang calmly devouring a meal at the police station while being interrogated in Infernal Affairs.
• A man quietly jogs on a tree-lined, snow-covered path. It's only after several minutes that we realize this is Central Park, in Birth.
• Media censorship at the local level -- The pile of burning radios in Moolaade.
• A man offers a gift to a friend he hasn't seen in years -- to leave the first footprints in the freshly fallen snow in his garden, in Woman is the Future of Man.
• A great aural moment in a visual medium -- Tadanobu Asano recording the individual station jingles along Tokyo's Yamanote subway line in Café Lumiére.
• Napoleon dancing to Jamiroquai in Napoleon Dynamite.
• "Spike Lee?" "No, Spike Jonze." A brilliant moment on celeb cred in the otherwise forgettable Coffee and Cigarettes.
• Natalie Portman as an object of lust, being leered at (in slow motion) by every man that passes her on Broadway, while Damien Rice croons, "I can't take my eyes off of you. . ." An ultra-disturbing ending to an already emotionally draining movie -- Closer.

Well, as the saying goes, all good ends must thing. To Cinetrix, David, Aaron, and Liz -- the CONVERSATION was truly a rewarding experience -- thanks for allowing me to be part of it. A special tip of the hat to the all the commentators (and of course George) -- my god you gave us a lot to chew on! Thanks also for offering new insights into films that I thought had been discussed to death. David - looking forward to meeting you in Berlin next month. Aaron - Let's meet over several stiff drinks to talk about Clint, Vincent and several others that push our buttons. Liz - would you join us and act as mediator? And Cinetrix, don't even think of coming to NYC again without allowing me to roll out the red carpet.

Here's hoping to see you all again for the CONVERSATION 2: The Quickening.

My memory is so bad that these must be very good

When the cinetrix suggested we do this homage to Film Comment's "Movie Moments" feature, I got nervous. I've discovered that I have a remarkably poor memory for certain specifics such as lines from movies and books or even whole scenes. I tend to remember whether or not I liked a film, how I felt while watching it, and the basic overall plot. Still, for all I forget, certain movie moments are as vivid to me sitting here now as when I first experienced them . I will always get chills from the last shot of Sunset Blvd., and I never cease to giggle watching Ferris Bueller race home through the neighborhood backyards. Just thinking about Donald O'Connor's "Make 'Em Laugh" in Singin' in the Rain thrills me just as the memory of the poor little dog Flike running away from the title character at the end of Umberto D makes me want to cry. My all-time favorite moment quite possibly could be that instant at the end of Magnolia where just as the guitar plays through its big riff in Amy Mann's "Save Me," Melora Walters smiles, and we cut to black.

Two of my moments have already been listed,. I'm quite shocked, actually, that Liz's Eternal Sunshine moment wasn't one that instantly flooded back to me, but my inevitable memory from that film is in a similar vein. (And for the record, as Liz's companion at The Merchant of Venice, I can attest to the fact that she did turn to me and whisper, "That's Gareth from The Office!" She seemed quite excited!)

So without further ado, and wrapping-up my own part of this fantastic conversation, here are my most memorable moments (not in any specific order):

• Cinetrix mentioned it, but I adore that moment during Before Sunset in the back of the cab when Celine is looking away, and Jesse reaches to pet her hair but at the last second, pulls his hand away. The reality of their relationship is exposed in that moment. Just as everyone gets caught up in their rekindled affection, we're reminded that this isn't a natural situation. We're reminded that they don't really know each other, and they're not really a couple. Jesse remembers that too: not only does he have a wife back home, but this isn't his girlfriend or even a mistress. Does he have the right to caress her? It's as if they're two teenagers on a first date, and the boy just doesn't know if he's allowed to make his move.

• I love Liz's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mindmoment, and mine is similar because I savor all the physical representations of memory breaking-down. But the sequence at the beach house near the film's end, as the entire physical world crumbles around them and Joel tells Clementine he'll find her … it really doesn't get any better than that.

• Three of my moments are thanks to the brilliant performances involved, and all of them are primarily, if not completely, wordless. In Vera Drake, Imelda Staunton's complete transformation from a cheery, optimistic, hard-working, loving woman to a withering, virtually empty shell during the interrogation scene will stick with me forever. But it wasn't just her performance that made this scene. In a world where we're used to Law & Order and NYPD Blue interrogations, this was something completely new -- police detectives being as nice as can be. They sympathized with Vera, but still had to do their jobs. So why the hell throughout the entire scene did I want to stand-up and yell at the screen, "Stop torturing her! She's just a frail old woman! Leave her alone." Regardless of the movie's other flaws (particularly the too lengthy lead-up to the arrest), that scene is perfect.

• I believe I saw someone allude to this in the comments, and I didn't love the movie, but the shot of Nicole Kidman sitting for how-long-was-it? at the philharmonic in Birth is astounding. Without saying a word and the camera tightly focused on her face, unwilling to flinch or turn away, Kidman, using only her eyes, clearly expresses all the confusion and uncertainty that has taken over Anna's entire being. She only physically sits with her husband at the symphony; emotionally she's 1000 miles away. When he tries to whisper something in her ear, she jumps, startled out of her trance, looking completely lost. Now that's memorable.

• Don Cheadle gave a wonderfully restrained performance in Hotel Rwanda, but the tie-tying moment was anything but. Liz describes the scene in her post much better than I ever could, so I'm happy she got to it first.

• The Incredibles may not have always been subtle, but for my money it was one of the best films about family (rather than simply a "family film") I'd seen in a long time. Two specific moments stick out: the first when Violet finally discovers her own self-worth and confidence and brushes her long hair, behind which she's always hidden and been invisible, behind her ear. The second, which just made me grin, was when the family is reunited on the island for the first time and comes together to fight. That pose of the four of them in a clearing stopped me cold, and I internally heard myself say, "Who needs the Fantastic Four next summer. This is better."

• It may not be a great moment, but I don't think I laughed harder at anything this year than in Dodgeball when Rip Torn says, "It's like watching a bunch of retards trying to fuck a doorknob," a line that could only Torn can pull-off. Well, it might be rivaled by Harold and Kumar's ride on a wild cheetah!

• I was quite disappointed with Wes Anderson's The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou, but there's one scene I just can't get out of my head. When Cate Blanchett's Jane interviews Bill Murray's Zissou, he sits in front of a window through which we repeatedly see a killer whale having a good ol' time just swimming around. It sounds like nothing, but it was one of the few magically quirky scenes in this film that made me smile and will stick with me.

• And finally, again following in Liz's wake, I have some negative moments too. For me, there are two bits in Collateral which exemplify this movie's worst dues ex machina-related flaws. Early in the film, after the first kill when the cab gets stopped by the police, Jamie Foxx is ordered to open the trunk (where the body is), but he stalls. Just when he finally has no choice, a call comes over the police radio, forcing the officers to rush-off and let the cab go. Far more aggravating, but probably only because it came near the end, was the death of a cell-phone battery at that one moment when the worst thing that could possibly happen is a cell-phone battery dying. I think it was at that moment I decided to not let Collateral bitch-slap me around anymore, and I simply said, "Fuck you, Michael Mann."

Sure, anyone can end a list on an upnote. I prefer going the other way! But all these moments wonderfully represent what's best and worst about the movies. A little sliver of time that can say so much; in each of these cases, bits that say more than entire movies.

I want to thank the cinetrix for inviting me to be part of her illustrious posse, and acknowledge all of you for not just reading, but participating. I will also continue to check-in with the comments, and hopefully, we'll start a new conversation sometime soon. Until then….

The World Forgetting, By the World Forgot

First of all, George: thanks for your eleventh-hour contribution, and I agree with you: the Golden Globes are absurd. If they were the pretext for this raucous and rambling conversation, I think it’s safe to say that it wasn’t because of the trembling awe any of us hold them in. Rather, awards season at the beginning of the every year is a time when movie talk is in the air; like a wedding or a funeral, the ceremonies are a chance to converge, and gossip, and remember. There’s no point in tearing one’s hair out about entertainers at awards shows not getting what they deserve; as Hamlet says, “Use every man after his desserts, and who shall ‘scape whipping?”

I mused briefly on Slate today about what makes for a good awards acceptance speech; other than that, I’ll limit my thoughts on the Globes ceremony to concurring with the Cinetrix that Mick Jagger’s turn at the mic was the one moment of pure rock-and-roll sovereignty. I laughed aloud when he handed off the trophy to Dave Stewart, his writing partner, the better to jam his hands in the pockets of his black satin jeans and compare the award to a “push-up bra” for his career. Despite the deeply etched crags in his face (a friend with whom I was phone-watching the awards wondered whether he’d had reverse plastic surgery, to add more and better-placed wrinkles), I bet there was a moment when every woman there wanted to go home with him.

And speaking of success with the ladies -- because I never picked up the thread of the Brown Bunny discussion from last week, just very briefly to Filmbrain, who’s been brave enough to champion this so widely despised movie: My distaste had nothing to do with the fact that not much happened in the story (one of my favorite films of the year was Goodbye, Dragon Inn, for God’s sake!) I guess at heart I hated the movie because I hated Vincent Gallo himself. Though usually I’d try to separate biographical concerns from my evaluation of a film, BB was so relentlessly autobiographical, so thoroughly entranced by the tortured subjectivity of its protagonist, that I think a little overlap is justified. And the Bud of the movie, like the Vincent Gallo I see in the tabloids (where he seems never to tire of appearing) was a self-pitying, narcissistic, arrogant dickwad. I think maybe the hatred I have for this movie (which isn’t even hatred, really, just a sort of mortified contempt) is a specifically feminine, and perhaps feminist, one; Gallo is like the world’s worst boyfriend, a conceit I elaborated on at some length in my review of The Brown Bunny last summer. I only have, I don’t know, another forty years or so to live, if I’m lucky; I don’t need to spend any more of my time in his company.

And now on to a few movie moments, which were a total delight to remember and to write about:

1) One of the commenters, blooperreel, scooped me on this one: I can’t forget Don Cheadle clumsily attempting to tie his necktie after witnessing the aftermath of a massacre in Hotel Rwanda. Specifically, I love how he takes an acting cliché – making a strangled sound that the viewer thinks is a sob, that then turns out to be laughter – and puts a very delicate turn on it. Yes, he’s laughing, but in pure hysteric incomprehension – he himself doesn’t know what the sound he’s making means. Then there’s a long beat – maybe ten seconds more of ineffectual necktie-fumbling – before he breaks down in bone-deep, almost nauseating sobs. Cheadle is such a wonderfully sly actor; his pinpoint delivery is almost too subtle for much of the bonk-you-on-the-head dialogue of Rwanda (which is a devastatingly effective but, in my view, politically irresponsible film; like Schindler’s List, it leaves you with the easy conscience of a false catharsis: now I can feel good about Rwanda, because I’ve seen the movie.)

2) The second is a negative movie moment (can we do those?), also from Hotel Rwanda; Aaron and I discussed this one over a drink after seeing the surprisingly solid new Merchant of Venice (on which more below.) It’s when Joaquin Phoenix’s character, an American news photographer, is boarding the bus to leave Kigali and abandon the Rwandans to their fate, and he mumbles to no one in particular: “I feel so ashamed.” Could there be a more ham-handed illustration of the writer's workshop truism about showing, not telling? If we couldn’t guess at Phoenix’s inner state from his comportment and the film’s own logic, what would be the point in having him tell us? It would be as if, when Jimmy Stewart sees Kim Novak come out of his room in his bathrobe in Vertigo, he said something like, “I am now experiencing tumescence at your pulchritude.” See? Kinda kills the mood.

3) Mackenzie Crook (a/k/a Gareth Keenan from BBC’s The Office) as the servant who defects from Shylock’s household to Portia’s in The Merchant of Venice. Crook had three of these toady roles this year, and he shone in all of them; he popped up as the servile usher in Finding Neverland and the unctuous car salesman in HBO’s The Life and Death of Peter Sellers. It’s a testament to the power of Office fandom that every time I see Crook onscreen, I can’t resist the temptation to interrupt the movie by whispering to my companion, “There’s Gareth!” And during Merchant’s long, stilted lovers-at-Belmont scenes (which were far weaker than the Shylock-and-Antonio scenes set in Venice, he was the most watchable thing onscreen, while somehow remaining utterly self-effacing. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: This man must. Play. Bartleby.

4) That sad little tear of snot rolling down from under Clint Eastwood’s nose when he has his final conversation with the priest in Million Dollar Baby. I’m not of the school that believes this film is a masterpiece – I found it a bit overblown and mythologized -- but it’s undeniably moving, and something about Sergio Leone’s Man with No Name sitting there, old and helpless, with his nose adrip, was so honest and raw that it set me off on a crying fit that lasted the rest of the movie.

5) The titles of the books fading from the spines, and the books themselves going white and vanishing, in the bookstore scene in Eternal Sunshine. Gives me chills just writing about it. And to bring back in the auteur-vs.-writer discussion that’s been happening somewhere in the comments, this was a moment that is equally the director’s and the writer’s work – who knows whether it was Kaufman or Gondry that first had the idea for the whiting-out of the titles, but it’s a perfect metaphor for the erasure that’s rapidly advancing on the couple (and on all of us, since Eternal Sunshine is not only about the forgetting of love, but the forgetting that comes with time and with death.) It’s one of those rare cinematic moments when a visual image perfectly expresses a thematic idea, when words and picture converge.

With that indelible memory of forgetting, I’ll take my leave of this Conversation. Thanks for inviting me, Cinetrix, and to all of you for listening and talking and commenting and interrupting. Have a good year at the movies.

Moments and Annotations

I'll post notes on a few of these, plus a few closing thoughts, as a comment immediately following, but for now, let's cut to the chase:

• (Because Lost in Translation opened in Europe in 2004 [and even topped year-end critics' polls in both of Berlin's alt.bi-weeklies], I'm granting myself permission.) Bob, arriving at the hotel, accepting greeting cards and gifts: "Thank you. I need this."

• Before Sunset. In the back seat, Celine registers: Jesse is about to actually cry.

• Gegen die Wand (Head On). On a sloped street in Istanbul, Sibel challenges her tormenters to beat her up one... more... time.

• The Incredibles. A guffaw of joy throws Dash flat on his back: "I love this family!"

• Triple Agent. Fiodor looks at his newspaper with the supreme confidence that he knows more than it does.

• Fahrenheit 9/11. The President prepares to address the nation.

• Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. "Yuck!"

• El abrazo partido (Lost Embrace). Rosita Londner singing through the final credits.

Time to sing my goodbyes, too, knowing full well that I'll be slapping my forehead all day tomorrow as I remember other moments. For now, countless thanks to the cinetrix for inviting me to the CONVERSATION... and a few more thoughts in the comments below. See you there, and if you make it to the Berlinale, there, or to SXSW in Austin, there.

No alarms and no surprises please

This is my final fit, my final bellyache.

Well, that was a bit of a yawner. I am pleased by Ian McShane's win, if only because it must have delighted avid commenter Britopia to be proven wrong in his pessimism.

After last night's broadcast, the cinetrix has one award category to add, and that's Most Self-Aware of One's Place in the Universe. The male award goes to Jamie Foxx, whose acceptance speech had the tough crowd I watched with move from laughter ["two drinks away from messing it up"] to tears. The female award belongs to Teri Hatcher, who clearly recognizes a second act when she sees it. And Mick Jagger gets the superstar award, inhabiting a place in the empyrean far above the mere mortal movie stars in the audience.

Today is our last day of the Conversation, for now. I've had a blast. I want to thank Liz, Aaron, Filmbrain, and David for being game when I suggested we do this, and for bringing my game up every day. Thanks, too, to all those who joined the Conversation via the comments. We'll keep them open for a few days more before we consign this rag to yesterday's news.

Because it is our last day, and there were very few "we wuz robbed" moments in last night's, in Variety-speak, "kudocast," we thought we'd end with a shot of pure movie love. This idea is stolen liberated from Stephanie Zacharek writing in Slate's Movie Club:

Film Comment used to do a year-end feature I wish they'd bring back, in which there were pages of elegant one-sentence descriptions of moments from the past year's movies that had delighted or moved or startled the writers. It was a way of reminding us all that sometimes it's the individual moments that matter to us more than the movies they are in. And it was a reminder that our job, not just as critics but as moviegoers, is to stay alert to those moments. Maybe you four have some of those moments from this past year you'd like to share?

I may add more later on today as my memory is jogged, but this moment stood out in a movie made up of so many searing ones. It was my hands-down favorite film in 2004, number one in my nonexistent top 10, a film, oddly enough, of intense conversations: Before Sunset.

In the back of a black Parisian taxi, an outstretched hand is withdrawn, unseen.

I would have loved this film anyway, but I do think reactions to it are very much colored by where the individual viewer was in his or her own life and where and with whom one watched. In the comments over at Filmbrain's Eleven Is the New Ten, Sarmoung, talking about Eternal Sunshine said it best:

I know films like this are for me very dependent on mood. You're in a cinema and it was very much a couple's sort of film over here. You've come to see it with two couples. You've been drinking gin and tonics beforehand. The whole experience was rather maudlin. Like those French films I'd pore over as a child late at night. Upon which I blame everything! Well, English sarcasm aside, I suspect I might have liked it if it hadn't made me so sad. Could have been the gin though...

Feel free to gloss your movie moment with a little context. Hell, match Sideways with your favorite vintage. As the 'Fesser is so fond of observing, "Conditions are always a factor."

And thanks again to everyone. I had a lovely time.

A POST-MORTEM MORE LEADEN THAN GOLD

Well, that was kind of dull, but I guess they saved the best surprise for last. I think we've all agreed that while the Golden Globes were one impetus for this little conversation, there's really not so much left to say about them, and the other ongoing discussions on have been more interesting. For a bit more about the Globes, you can check-out my little live blogging experiment from last night, but otherwise, here's my personal last word on last night's event.

First, let's run down what made me happy versus sad. Wins by The Aviator, Leonardo DiCaprio, Clive Owen, Ian McShane, and Jason Bateman were awesome, with all five of those awards coming as surprises due to my cynical expectations. Wins by Sideways, The Sea Inside, Hilary Swank, Annette Bening, Jamie Foxx, Natalie Portman, Alexander Payne & Jim Taylor, Nip/Tuck, Mariska Hargitay and The Life and Death of Peter Sellers were mildly upsetting at best, and absolutely tragic at worst, not necessarily because of who won as who didn't. I have a hard time really being disappointed by the Sideways win because I did love the movie; but the lack of respect shown to Eternal Sunshine, while expected, is very disheartening.

With that said, the most interesting element of the Golden Globes isn't even the wins themselves but what they signify and their influence on the biggest prizes, the Oscars. The Globes used to have a greater effect before the Academy Awards moved its entire process up a month, and the winners were announced before Oscar nomination ballots were due. That's no longer the case, but in these days of Oscar campaigns being more about politics and advertising than quality, a Globes win is sometimes enough to break an otherwise tight race.

That's why the big winner last night was undoubtedly Sideways. Interestingly enough, the Hollywood Foreign Press tends to like spreading its awards around. Including last night, in the last fifteen years the HFPA has awarded its "Best Director" prize to a film also winning "Best Picture" only five times. In fact, this is the second time that Clint Eastwood has won the Golden Globe for "Best Director" and not had his film take him "Best Picture." (The same thing happened in 1993 when he justly won for Unforgiven but lost the "Best Picture – Drama" prize to, believe it or not, Scent of a Woman. "Best Picture – Musical/Comedy" went to The Player.) Two years ago, Martin Scorsese was given the director award for Gangs of New York while The Hours and Chicago took home the "Best Picture" awards. I guess giving The Aviator the big one tonight evens things out for Scorsese.

Now I'm not saying Million Dollar Baby can't win the Academy Award. Hell, this is exactly the same situation as Unforgiven -- the film I personally consider Eastwood's all-time best – and it rightfully went on to bring home both picture and director Oscars. But the momentum has definitely swung Sideways' way, and you can bet your ass that Fox Searchlight will be publicizing the hell out of not just all the critics awards wins but now this prize as well.

My greatest disappointments of the evening have to be all the film female acting awards. The more I think about it, the more I'm bothered by Bening's win for Being Julia. The movie is so very blah and uneven, and while she is very good, her performance essentially services nothing. The film is adapted from Somerset Maugham's novel "Theatre", and I was so appalled at this collection of jumbled scenes that I bought the book. The changes made for the film make no sense. They basically chose a bunch of favorite scenes and pieced them together with no regard for flow. Amazingly enough, the one sequence in the film which is very enjoyable (and that probably clinched Bening's award) is a scene only alluded to in the novel, created specifically for the screen. This was a weak category, and I suppose Bening is the only other person nominated who was deserving, but this should have been Kate Winslet's prize.

On the drama side, I thought Swank was great, but she at best comes in third for me in this category. While I didn't really like the film, Nicole Kidman really did do some incredible work in Birth, but as I've repeated ad nauseam already, Imelda Staunton gave the performance of the year.

And finally, for supporting actress, I really did love Natalie Portman in Closer, almost as much as Clive Owen. But Cate Blanchett channeled Katharine Hepburn in The Aviator and really deserved this award. I wonder, though, if maybe Blanchett was indirectly done in by Laura Linney. I wasn't a huge fan of Kinsey, but I thought Linney was magnificent. In fact, she and the always phenomenal Peter Sarsgaard made this movie for me. If any one performance does compete with Blanchett's, it would be Linney's. Maybe a lot of HFPA members agreed, and Portman snuck in under the wire.

It's silly, really, that the Golden Globes carry so much more weight than any other year-end awards. A group of fewer than 100 people, many ostensibly calling themselves critics but plenty others who really aren't, vote for their favorite films (or the ones which provided them with their favorite swag) and because they throw the biggest televised party, people seem to actually believe they're more important than any other vote or poll. I suppose we (and probably mostly I) have given them more discussion than really warranted, so I suppose I'll leave it at that.

A cameo with heft

A couple years back, Dame Judi Dench was awarded Oscar honors for a Best Supporting Actress turn that encompassed a mere eight minutes of screen time, as Queen Elizabeth in Shakespeare in Love. With that in mind, I asked the sage proprietor of A Girl and A Gun to grace this Conversation. I suspect George's Globe-skeptical turn will prove equally scene-stealing. Whippersnappers, you're on notice.

I am pleased to have been invited by the cinetrix to join in, although I hesitate to do so. It just so happens that I don't watch television, except for an occasional film or sports event, and that many of the films up for various GG awards are not to my taste, and so either I haven't seen them (and don't intend to see them) or have and didn't like most of those few I did see. It seems the height of bad manners to join a group where there is a higher, and in some cases much higher, level of admiration for many of these pictures than I can muster; the other participants are knowledgeable people writing in good faith, and my mutterings about Leo D. and Clint's latest would be out of place. I don't think my tastes superior, just different, but they're the only ones I have and I cling to them. My own views about 2004's best films are here.

I will add a few thoughts about the renaissance of a genre which has never quite died out, I am sad to say: the biopic. The Aviator, Neverland, Ray, De-Lovely, Beyond the Sea, and Kinsey (none of which I have seen) are all biopics, and of other nominated films the aroma lingers over The Motorcycle Diaries, although lightly, and even more faintly to Hotel Rwanda (both of which I have seen, liked some of the former and most of the latter). The appeal of this format never fails to baffle me: take a known story about a celebrity of sorts, be sure to touch on all the best-known incidents, and if you can make the leading performer look a lot like the historical character (from what I can gather from trailers, they got within hailing distance on Kinsey and eerily close on Charles). I am told that we are now getting our biopics with more warts than in days of yore, but even so the rule seems to be, get the film to come round to the celebrity's side by the end. It was this last tendency which nearly scuttled Diaries, finding revolutionary nobility in the young Ernesto Guevara, and might have taken some of the sting out of Hotel Rwanda if it had not been so well played and taken so uncompromising a stand on what was happening in that country in 1994. Both films were also to some degree redeemed by virtue of the fact that they concentrated on a brief episode in the lives of their respective subjects rather than a major portion. Maybe that's also true of some those nominated I have not seen.

The protagonists of biopics do not need to be dramatically interesting or psychologically complex. A few years back, one of them was even a horse, for crying out loud, convenient I suppose because it was unnecessary for the filmmakers or audience to deal with Seabiscuit's inner life. (Still, I wonder: Did he bite his trainer sadistically? Did he lust after his stable mates?) All they really need to be is famous, satisfying our bottomless hunger for vicariously joining people with fame, often with money, frequently with great sexual freedom, going through their highs and lows with the fairly certain conviction that you are going to end on a high--justified, validated by history or at least shown to have been unfairly hounded, on balance having earned your celebrity. The contortions it requires to reach this end may be considerable (I'm thinking of the Ronald Reagan obsequies, a kind of biopic parody) but people love a "heart-warming," "inspirational" story that "affirms the human spirit," to which end they will swallow just about anything.

For what it's worth, of all the films up for any kind of award, I thought the best was Kill Bill Vol. 2, Quentin the T's eye-filling revenge drama with lots of Uma and not enough Carradine, Madsen, and Parks--there can never be enough of them. I see Madsen is featured in some sleazy looking new tv series about poker. I'm sure Jamie Foxx is a fine fellow, but I saw Collateral and I can't help asking: a year from now, what will stay with us, his respectable job of playing the hackie or Madsen's smug, sneering, unforgettable killer? Why are producers hiding this guy and frittering his talents in disposable dramas? Why isn't Parks wallowing in juicy character parts after this stunning comeback? Is QT really the only director who understands that Carradine can act? Of the nominated performers that I saw, two stand out besides Thurman: Cheadle for Hotel Rwanda, an honest treatment of a character who could have been turned preachy and false-heroic; and Church, up for a supporting role, which by the rules of the game is fair enough, I suppose, but really, Sideways without him would have been not much more than plonk. The guy was so perfect for his role (a tapped-out TV actor, Church was in that sense what he played) that I'm not sure it will be easy to cast him in something different. But he seems to have salvaged his career, which is itself a good story. Hey: maybe they'll make a biopic about him.

Nothing gold can stay

Poor Kathryn "Miss Golden Globes" Eastwood. She's no Allison, or even Kyle. And is the cinetrix the only one who felt icky when she realized that the poor sprog has the same name and the same po-faced, unfinished quality as "my sister, my daughter" from Chinatown?

OK, now that everyone's as creeped out as I am [you're welcome], let's talk about these pesky awards. I think it will come as a surprise to no one that all of us seem to view the Golden Globes with uncomfortable ambivalence--witness Aaron's and Filmbrain's bifurcated picks--which has made our somewhat arbitrary decision to build our first Conversation around them, er, challenging. There have been so many far more interesting sidebars in the comments these last few days that coming back to the Globes feels like slinking back to the person who brought you to the party when you'd much rather keep talking with the fascinating person over by the bar.

In Best Picture Drama nominee Finding Neverland, there's a bit of backstory/exposition that captures my own complicated history with awards shows. Barrie [Depp] confides in Sylvia Llewelyn Davies [Winslet] that there was a moment in his childhood at which the boy in him disappeared forever. This revelation [there's even the awkward "ah, so that's what the title means" dialogue] is meant, of course, to put the creator of "Peter Pan" through a pop psychological workup that any studio exec could grok and greenlight, but it also deepens the resonance later in the film of the eldest Llewelyn Davies' boy's first step down the road to responsibility, once his mother's illness is made known.

Sad to say, the cinetrix experienced a similar end of innocence moment when wrinkly alien E.T. lost out to that wizened apple of a man, Gandhi. That eat-your-vegetables, anti-populist, self-congratulatory Oscar selection in 1982 may just have turned her into the cynical critic she is today.

So, without further ado, the nominees.

For Best Picture, Drama, I've only seen Closer and Neverland. Hollywood loves movies about itself, but the Hollywood Foreign Press? Who knows? My cynical choice is Million Dollar Baby because it's the Academy that owes Scorsese, not HFPA. But I suspect Payne will get belated props for reining in Nicholson on his last picture and take Best Director.

For Best Picture, Comedy or Musical, the state of my sock drawer kept me away from Phantom, and the romantic in me wants Eternal Sunshine, but like attracts like, so the cynical critic in me picks Sideways.

For many of the other awards, I [like David but for less good reasons] just haven't seen enough of the nominees to pick a personal favorite, but I suspect my colleagues' clear-eyed prognosticating will bear out. I think Kate Winslet consistently turns in fantastic, nuanced work; that Jamie Foxx made some silk purse out of that sow's ear of a biopic; that Scarlett better keep busy before gravity takes her "girls" for a ride and she ages out of ingenue roles; that Johnny and Don don't need no stinkin' awards to keep us watching [ditto Clive]; and that Paul will continue to get more than his fair share of the love this awards season.

Charlie Kaufman and Michel Gondry will take the best screenplay as a consolation prize, and the cinetrix will wonder yet again why the HFPA divides best picture but not original and adapted screenplays. Best original score will be awarded to some hack, and best original song could doubtless double as an entry in the Eurovision song contest.

And the cinetrix has already revealed her excrable taste in television; best not to dwell on it further. [She's still too busy fuming about the Before Sunset shut-out, about which more later.]

Get that popcorn popping. It's going to be a bumpy night.

The most important unimportant awards -- Golden Globes 2005, the predictions

I wasn't sure if I wanted to get in the predictions game for the Globes. Unlike the Oscars, they're too unpredictable. But Filmbrain got my prognostication juices flowing, so I thought I'd chime in. Surprisingly, he and I agree on a lot concerning what should happen and what will happen later tonight.

First, though, Filmbrain also mentioned the conversation he was having in the comments with Britopia regarding how some films have been hurt by having only one creative voice writing and directing the film. Maybe I misunderstood what you wrote, but I don't think that big budget Hollywood fare with multiple credited and uncredited screenwriters benefits from that number of people working on the script. In fact, I would argue that most scripts with that many credits (something determined by the Writers Guild indicating that elements of all the various individual work still exists in the final film) are often overwritten, muddled and thoroughly full of crap. What I was trying to say is that I think we see so many writer-directors these days because writing your own script is just about the only way to break-in to this business as a director.

This was not the case during the heyday of the major studios when directors and writers were under long-term contract (a completely different animal from the modern development deal), and studios had large, active stables of writers churning out scripts, thereby creating plenty of material to keep all the directors working.

Anyway, back to the Globes. I'm actually going to admit up front that I don't really have any great ideas about what will definitely win. While the Globes are often unpredictable, with the exception of Eternal Sunshine (which I'm fairly certain won't win), most of the good nominated films don't really stand-out from the pack:

• Best Picture – Drama: Filmbrain hates Million Dollar Baby; I like it, but don't love it anywhere near the seeming majority of critics. In answer to his question, there actually was a positive reaction to Finding Neverland, but it wasn't so overwhelming. In fact, I was shocked as hell when it won the National Board of Review's top prize. Still, for my money, The Aviator was the best of the six films nominated (sorry, but Closer's failures barely outdid its successes), and I think some sentiment for Scorsese could swing the prize his way. Then again, they gave him a Director award two years ago for Gangs of New York, which is why, like Filmbrain, I see this as being the night of Million Dollar Baby. Should win: The Aviator. Will win: Million Dollar Baby

• Best Actress – Drama: I couldn't disagree with Filmbrain more strongly about Imelda Staunton: I will absolutely call it the best performance I saw in any film this year, male or female, lead or supporting. She could win, but I doubt it. I think there's more of a chance for Filmbrain's pick, Nicole Kidman. Kidman was the only thing I loved about Birth, but not because "she delivers all her lines at just above a whisper." If anything, that's what's wrong with the movie – Jonathan Glazer created an environment that was so cold and devoid of emotion much of the time that I just didn't buy it. With that said, the scene at the philharmonic where Kidman says nothing but we see a range of emotions and transformation of character when the camera simply won't leave her face is absolutely remarkable. But you know, it doesn't matter, because Filmbrain and I make the same prediction here as well. Should win: Imelda Staunton for Vera Drake Hilary Swank for Million Dollar Baby
  . Will win:
• Best Actor – Drama: Actually, I find this to be a very competitive category other than Liam Neeson. Everybody seems to love his performance, but I thought he was just OK. His accent bugged the crap out of me. The other four I thought were all brilliant. Don Cheadle carried all of Hotel Rwanda on his shoulders with a subtle complexity missing from the rest of the movie; Javier Bardem provided a quiet dignity quite unlike what we expect from this kind of role (read: Daniel Day-Lewis in My Left Foot); Johnny Depp is becoming a more suave, less rough version of Brando; and Leonardo DiCaprio impressed the shit out of me and hasn't received the credit he deserves. I'm going to go out on a limb on this one, and while I wouldn't be surprised if Filmbrain is correct and the prize goes to Neeson … Should Win: Leonardo DiCaprio for The Aviator. Will win: Don Cheadle for Hotel Rwanda (It's a more "important" film.)

• Best Picture – Musical/Comedy: I've seen all of these, and Filmbrain is right – this is too easy for both picks. Should win: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Will win: Sideways.

• Best Actress – Musical/Comedy: Filmbrain should skip De-Lovely which simply is further proof that Irwin Winkler should stick to producing only. I'm going to agree with him here too, even though Being Julia was a relatively terrible movie, so bad that even Bening's good work seems less than it is. Should win: Kate Winslet for Eternal Sunshine. Will win: Annette Bening for Being Julia.

• Best Actor – Musical/Comedy: I haven't seen Beyond the Sea, so I can't really speak for or against Kevin Spacey. But I have a hard time imagining a performance more fascinating in its quiet complexity and nuance than Jim Carrey playing straight man. Director Michel Gondry I'm sure deserves much of the credit, but even more so than in The Truman Show, Carrey proves that there is a great actor lurking, hidden underneath all the schtick. This one seems pretty obvious to me too, even though it easily could swing Paul Giamatti's way. The HFPA obviously likes the mess that is Ray since it received a Best Picture nomination, and Jamie Foxx was the only consistently great thing in the movie. In fact, as I've said this before, Foxx gave two of the best performances of the year in two of its most overrated and disappointing films. Should win: Jim Carrey for Eternal Sunshine. Will win: Jamie Foxx for Ray.

• Best Foreign Language Film: I never saw Filmbrain's top film of the year (Last Life in the Universe), but since it's not even nominated, I'll speak to the actual finalists. In the comments to my last post, Gwenda asked why nobody has mentioned A Very Long Engagement Speaking only for myself, it's one of the few nominees I still haven't seen. I've heard some great things about it, and I'm dying to see it – I plan to within the next week or so. (I also have not yet seen The Chorus, which just opened in NYC this weekend.) I think this award comes down to the other three nominees anyway, and will be a battle between The Motorcycle Diaries and House of Flying Daggers. A coin flip for me on both my pick and prediction … Should and will win: House of Flying Daggers.

• Best Supporting Actress: This is actually a very strong category from top to bottom, but like Filmbrain, I think it's a slam dunk. Should and will win: Cate Blanchett for The Aviator.

• Best Supporting Actor: I agree again with Filmbrain that nobody deserves this award more than Clive Owen who was by far the best thing about Closer. However, I'm going to hedge my prediction here a little bit because I think HFPA members probably cast their votes with the Best Actor – Drama award in mind. If I'm right about Jamie Foxx winning for Ray, then he won't win here for Collateral -- people won't vote for him twice. However, if they choose to go another way with that award, this one will be his to lose. Since I do think he'll win the bigger prize, it's still a MDB night. Should win: Clive Owen for Closer. Will win: Morgan Freeman for Million Dollar Baby.

• Best Director: Not sure why Filmbrain made no picks, other than maybe his horror at the idea of Clint Eastwood winning. I think this one will be close. The question is which critically beloved, and potentially overhyped, film will take home the prize: Sideways or Million Dollar Baby? If you see the acting awards going to MDB, give this one to Eastwood. If you don't, or if Sideways's actors are winning, give it to Alexander Payne. Personally, I think Sideways is the better film, but Eastwood did the more impressive directing job because he had the weaker script. And while my love for Scorsese knows no bounds, he shouldn't have won for Gangs of New York but did, so he won't win this one. Of course, the guy who should win wasn't even nominated. Really should win: Michel Gondry for Eternal Sunshine. Nominated should win: Alexander Payne for Sideways. Will win: Clint Eastwood for Million Dollar Baby.

• Best Screenplay: Here's another reason Payne won't win the director award; he and writing partner Jim Taylor will be taking home this one. Shockingly, again Filmbrain and I agree. Should win: Charlie Kaufman for Eternal Sunshine. Will win: Alexander Payne & Jim Taylor for Sideways.
• Best Song and Best Score: I decided that I don't really care this year. I appreciated Eastwood's sparse score for Million Dollar Baby, and I thought Howard Shore's work for The Aviator was fantastic, but neither blew me away. None of the songs really grabbed me as definitive winners either, although Wyclef Jean's "Million Voices" from Hotel Rwanda is the best of the lot. I don't have clue one what the HFPA will do, but if I were voting, I'd go with Wyclef and Shore.

That takes care of the films. Here are some quick notes on the TV side of things:

• Best series – Drama: This is the category where the HFPA always seems to surprise. They like to be the first to award that new(ish) show, proving that they're more adventurous than the Emmys. This year, that desire could swing in three directions. Going out on a limb … Should win: Deadwood. Will win: Lost.

• Best series – Comedy: The nominees fall into two groups: the ok and above-average, and the absolute best shows on television. Will & Grace is simply an embarrassment and shouldn't be anywhere near the word "best." Entourage showed promise, but it never really rose to excellence. Sex and the City went out with a satisfying final season, but it was still weaker than previous years. I'd be happy if Desperate Housewives wins, but I'd be happier if the best show on TV got the award. Based on those Best Actress nominations though, the forecast doesn't look good. Should win: Arrested Development. Will win: Desperate Housewives.

• Best Actress – Drama: A competitive category -- Falco once again was the best part of a phenomenal show, but she's won twice already. Jennifer Garner or Christine Lahti could take it, but critics love Nip/Tuck, and here's a chance for them to say so. Should win: Edie Falco for The Sopranos. Will win: Joely Richardson for Nip/Tuck.

• Best Actor – Drama: This is another toss-up. Sadly, the one actor who deserves it the most, Ian McShane, is probably the only one who can't win. While any of the other four nominees have a great shot, I'm going to say the Globes follow the Emmys in this case and go with the quirky and fascinating Spader. Should win: Ian McShane for Deadwood. Will win: James Spader for Boston Legal.

• Best Actress – Comedy: How does one choose? Will the three Desperate Housewives cancel each other out? Maybe, but I can't really see either Sarah Jessica Parker or Debra Messing winning this time around. This is a simple role of the dice, so I'm just going to pretend that the HFPA members think like I do in this one category. Should and will win: Marcia Cross for Desperate Housewives

• Best Actor – Comedy: This one is quite difficult to predict as well. In fact, it's probably the biggest toss-up of the night, even though there is one actor who should be the clear winner. I doubt it will be Matt LeBlanc or Charlie Sheen, but the other four all have a shot. I'm going to go out on a limb, though, and suggest that nominating Larry David without giving similar recognition to his show is actually a good sign for him. Should win: Jason Bateman for Arrested Development. Will win: Larry David for Curb Your Enthusiasm.

I didn't see enough of the other TV categories to really make an informed judgment or prognostication, but I wasn't a fan of Iron-Jawed Angels, and as I've mentioned here elsewhere, I thought The Life and Death of Peter Sellers was a missed opportunity for something special, even though Geoffrey Rush was fantastic. I'd be happy to see him win for Best Actor in a Movie/Miniseries, and I'll be rooting for Drea De Matteo (The Sopranos) and Oliver Platt (Huff) in the Best Supporting Actor and Actress TV categories.

I plan to be doing some form of my site, and then I'm pretty sure all of us will be back here for some form of reaction after the show. Until then ….

A NICKEL'S WORTH OF COGITATIONS ON THE GLOBES, AND OTHER UNPOPULAR OPINIONS

So...the first thing that happens is I get stuck on the Golden Globes homepage, staring at Clint's other million dollar baby, Kathryn Eastwood (which Liz pointed out). Sixteen?!? That would put Clint around sixty when she was born. I did some poking around -- he's had two more kids after her (each with a different mother) for a total of seven offspring in all. (Magnum Force indeed!) This of course explains Million Dollar Baby -- he needed a crowd-pleasing box-office smash just to keep up with child support.

Here are my thoughts on the nominations themselves. I should add that I don't really care about award shows one way or the other (few of the films I love ever get nominated), but it's fun to play along nonetheless.

• Best Picture - Drama: Was there an outpouring of praise when Finding Neverland opened? If so, I can't recall reading any. This has to be one of the blandest films I've come across in ages. Pretty to look at, and Depp's accent is charming, but the story is quite uninspired. Given all the other pedophile-themed films this year, I kept waiting for it to turn into something darker. I haven't seen Hotel Rwanda, but of the other three, the choice is easy. Sure, The Aviator was a great way to spend three hours, but it's hardly a great film. Kinsey wasn't bad, but played it too safe in my opinion. Much like Finding Neverland, it's an MOR film that seems tailored for picking up nominations. My pick: Closer. My prediction: Million Dollar Baby.
• Best Actress - Drama: Imelda Staunton did give a fine performance in Vera Drake, but if I think about it in comparison with some of the other great Mike Leigh characters/performances, it comes up short. (David Thewlis in Naked, Alison Steadman in Abigail's Party or Nuts In May, the entire cast of Secrets & Lies, etc.) Even if I don't take those other films into consideration, I still didn't find Staunton's performance to be "the best" (whatever that means). I've yet to see A Love Song for Bobby Long, but I'd be surprised if Scarlett Johansson has turned in something award-worthy. Uma was great when The Bride was a killing machine, but her scenes with David Carradine reminded me how limited she is when it comes to drama. Nicole Kidman has been on a roll lately (well, except for The Stepford Wives) and her performance in Birth, in which she delivers all her lines at just above a whisper, is marvelous (almost as good as Dogville). My pick: Nicole Kidman. My prediction: Hillary Swank.
• Best Actor - Drama: None of these really grabbed me as a great performance, though I've only seen three of the five. Were dramas really that poor last year? In my wildest dreams I never imagined I would be typing the following four words -- My pick: Leonardo DiCaprio. My prediction: Liam Neeson.
• Best Picture - Musical/Comedy: Didn't see The Incredibles or The Phantom of the Opera. I'm somewhat curious about the former, and will no doubt see repeated showings of the latter in my own personal hell. Ray suffered from bad biopic syndrome, so it's down to Eternal Sunshine and Sideways. This one is too easy. My pick: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. My prediction: Sideways.
• Best Actress - Musical/Comedy: Having seen only one of the nominated films (Eternal Sunshine, though De-Lovely is cued up in the DVD player), I can't rightly make a selection. Yes I can. My pick: Kate Winslet. My prediction: Annette Benning.
• Best Actor - Musical/Comedy: Ahh...now here we have an interesting selection. For mere chutzpah alone, Kevin Spacey should win the award. Beyond the Sea was, if possible, an even more narcissistic film than The Brown Bunny. It's much more about Kevin Spacey than it is Bobby Darin, and his performance borders on the surreal. An absolute mess of a film, but Spacey goes out with a bang. Though this was the first (and only) time I was able to stomach Jim Carry (like the Cinetrix, I too have an aversion), I'm not quite ready to see him win an award. I think it's great that Paul Giamatti was nominated, and I really enjoyed his performance, but was it that great? The dead, gay songwriter has little chance, whereas the dead, blind songwriter seems to be the odds on favorite. My pick: Kevin Spacey. My prediction: Jamie Foxx.
• Best Foreign Film: Last Life in the Universe. What's that? Not nominated? You must be joking. . .
• Best Supporting Actress: I avoided the remake of The Manchurian Candidate, but I'm sure Meryl Streep was perfect as always. There's a lot to be said for the other four -- solid performances by all, but I think Cate Blanchett out-edges Laura Linney, Virginia Madsen, and the pink lemonade pee-er with her channeling of Katharine Hepburn. My pick: Cate Blanchett. My prediction: Cate Blanchett (a first!).
• Best Supporting Actor: Easy. Clive Owen by a furlong. My pick: Clive Owen. My prediction: Morgan Freeman.
• Best Screenplay: As much I admire Alexander Payne as a screenwriter, nothing else this year comes even close to the originality of Charlie Kaufman. My pick: Charlie Kaufman. My prediction: Alexander Payne.

Some other notes:

I just wanted to thank everybody who contributed to the I Heart Huckabees discussion that began in the comments of this post. That was the one film I saw last year that I couldn't come to terms with. I enjoyed it while I watched it, but when I left the theater, I didn't know what to think, nor could I easily say what or how I felt. I really wanted to see it again, but never got around to it. The discussion here has caused me to re-evaluate it, and now I not only want, but need to see it again.

Aaron -- earlier you wrote about the writer/director problem that Britopia and I were discussing. I think your analysis is incorrect -- the films that seem to suffer from the sole writer/director are not those that have been financed to the tune of millions of dollars, but rather the small to mid-size indie flick. Hollywood product often has two, three, or more screenwriters on a project, not to mention the countless "doctors" they bring on board. If I weren't so lazy, I would make a list of all the indie films that I think were ruined by this.

Finally, I received an email today from a friend in London:

"Love the CONVERSATION, but when's the conversation going to begin?"

Point taken. I admit this has turned out to be slightly more anarchic than we had imagined, and not nearly as structured as the Movie Club that inspired us in the first place. However, as David mentioned yesterday, there were so many wonderful side conversations in the comments section (far more than we imagined), that we perhaps lost focus from the main thread. The next couple of days should find us getting back on track, and we've got something wonderful lined up for Monday.

Re: Kill Bill

Of the many topics brought up in the oodles of comments following the cinetrix's post here, Eddy Faust brought up this one: "I can't believe no one is bringing up Kill Bill, Vol. 2, which has one of the most subversive climaxes in modern-day action cinema." Of course, the HFPA have also barely brought it up, merely nodding in its direction with a feeble two noms, one each for Uma Thurman and David Carradine.

Eddy's also remarked: "And everyone wants to come down on QT because Kill Billl is a collage of influences past, but that's like saying DJ Shadow's Endtroducing wasn't one of the best albums of the 1990s because it was all made up of samples." Filmbrain, even though he has his "problems with QT and the KB films," liked that one, and actually, I've been surprised - again, pleasantly - by how much discussion of KB has followed. I'd thought people were as sick of arguing about it as so many of us have become of even thinking about the Jesus movie and the Bush movie (both of which we've all mercifully left well enough alone), but evidently not. Good for us.

Let me add another vote of approval for Eddy's DJ Shadow analogy and also for his point that what QT's done here isn't simply remix a few favorite tunes (well, a lot, actually); he's also made something his own. And I enjoyed the hell out of both volumes; saw Vol 1 twice and 2 only once, unfortunately, but I look forward to the eventual DVD extravaganza in which we get to see the whole shebang in one fell swoop - plus, hopefully - listen to QT talk us through his references and sources and tell us what a kick it was for him to have Chiba and all the rest right there in front of his own cameras. If there was ever a movie ripe for the full exploitation the DVD offers, here it is.

All that said, far as I see it, Kill Bill is no Jackie Brown. I don't know what it's like over in the States, but here in Germany - well, Jackie Brown must have been a very cheap buy. Several TV stations here show it about twice a year, so that means it's almost in constant rotation. And you know, zapping around, unwinding at night, if I happen across it - it nabs me each and every time. I have no idea how many times I've seen it by now, in whole or in part.

I remember John Powers remarking in a piece for the LA Weekly that incorporated an interview with QT that he suspected that QT himself didn't realize JB is his most mature work. Now, I thoroughly enjoy listening to DJ Shadow, and I think I've got just about everything of his that can be gotten, loaded up in iTunes. I admire the artistry of his work; but I suspect that it won't be as immortal as a good solid song by, say, Dylan or, I dunno, Thom Yorke. Yes, I'm aware of the conservative implications of what I'm saying here, and yes, it worries me a little to hear it coming from me. I could be wrong. Maybe I even hope I am.

But the consistency of the world of JB allows for vastly richer character development, for one thing, than the episodic world of KB. JB has a single narrative that grows in complexity with its characters as well, whereas, in KB, we simply move onto the next adventure. There are many lovely little worlds created in KB, one of my favorites being the inside the plane/outside the plane sequence as the Bride flies into Tokyo - the sword-holders for each seat, the artificiality of the model of the city at night, the motorcycle - but the worlds keep changing with each episode and we, the viewer, don't have the chance to really grow into them before it seems that the very laws of physics have been switched on us again.

That said, it could be argued that QT is saying something about our view of Asia through movie eyes. In America, the kitchens, both vols 1 and 2, look like suburban kitchens as we all know and loathe them, for example. Budd's trailer, the shithole where he works, the hospital where the Bride's been out for a while - all as we know them. The further east we go, the more reality gives way to - not just surrealities but to alternate, movie realities, wherein, at one point, we even slip into the anime flashback.

Again, as I write, I appreciate these aspects of what QT set out to do all over again; but overall, KB still leaves me less impressed than JB, and I think one measure of the difference is this: Consider both films, in their own ways, partially at least, something between an outright love letter and a supreme vehicle for their respective actresses. Comparing the acting skills of Uma Thurman and Pam Grier is a hopeless apples-n-oranges exercise, but put it this way: Love 'em both, but Thurman is no slouch and Grier is no Meryl Streep. And yet, Grier is a thousand times more convincing as Jackie Brown than Thurman is as the Bride. Thurman is thrown abstracts to work with - revenge, maternal love - while Grier gets a concrete world and a point-by-point plan.

The Globes cometh: Surely they'll be disappointing

As David mentioned earlier, there are so many wonderful discussions going on throughout the comments, it's difficult to decide where to take this Conversation next. While I want all of them to continue, I've also been thinking of something which I'd like my cohorts (and all of you) to weigh-in on. So let's move through Globes stuff, as the great Grambo would say, bullet-stizz, and then get on to something else.

• Liz gave me too much Globe fodder to chew on. I'm not ready to make any actual predictions – the one thing the Globes have going for them is they often manage to surprise. The most interesting awards might be those Motion Picture acting categories. Liz mentioned Imelda Staunton, and for my money, it shouldn't even be a contest. While not a big fan of Birth, I did love Nicole Kidman, but Staunton's performance in Vera Drake hit me harder than any other this year. The transformation we see her go through, and the nearly silent breakdown she experiences in the brilliant interrogation scene should be enough. Can it win her an Oscar? Who knows. But the fact that the HFPA nominated her means the members saw her, and if you've seen her, regardless of how you feel about the entire movie, I imagine the power of Staunton's performance touched you too.

• Jamie Foxx, meanwhile, managed to give what I think are two more of the best performances in two of the most overrated and disappointing films of the year. As Ben alluded to in the comments, Foxx's people probably made the choice of how to campaign for him. I believe the HFPA has the flexibility to nominate in the categories they see fit, but for the Oscars, it is actually up to the film's studio to determine to what category an actor will be submitted.

• I don't know if I'm in the minority here, but I was really dissatisfied with Team America: World Police. I found it dull; I thought most of the jokes fell flat; the gimmick got tired after about 20 minutes; and most disappointing to me, the songs were really subpar. Even "America, Fuck Yeah," didn't stick in my head all that long, and none of the others did at all. Since I consider the South Park movie to be a genius work of satire with brilliant and memorable songs I sang for weeks, I was looking for something a lot better.

• Liz also mentions that the TV nominations don't move her all that much. I'm a bit surprised because TV is one area where the Globes often go against conventional wisdom, and I think there are some great shows eligible to win the prize. I wholeheartedly agree with her about Oliver Platt and Huff, though. The show started slow, but it has grown on me each week. The one element that has never wavered, though, is the superbly manic portrayal of Huff's best friend by Platt. I'll be rooting for him too.

• In the series categories, I'm hoping "Drama" comes down to Deadwood versus Lost, and I really think the HBOer should get it. I wouldn't be surprised if the HFPA went with Nip/Tuck, though. They shocked everyone by giving the award to FX's other series, The Shield in 2003. In Deadwood's favor, I think the Globes like giving awards to critically praised shows and people snubbed by the Emmys, and I'm hoping Ian McShane benefits from that as well.

• "Comedy" is another story with only two shows that rightfully should receive this award: Arrested Development and Desperate Housewives. While my pick would be with the former, Liz's apt comments regarding the latter's dominance of the TV landscape as reflected by the three Best Actress nominees has got to make ABC's newcomer the favorite.

Moving beyond the Globes for a moment, I've noticed a lot of discussion regarding The Life Aquatic, I (Heart) Huckabees and Hero and House of Flying Daggers. I'm sure everyone came to all of these films with certain expectations. For me, The Life Aquatic was one of the most disappointing films I saw this year. So was Collateral, a movie that I really wanted to like even though I'm not generally a Michael Mann fan. But the damn thing just kept bitch-slapping me around, daring me to go along with its atrocious script until I couldn't take it anymore. While I love Wes Anderson, what was missing from The Life Aquatic was, ironically enough, any sense of life. (And just for the record, I refuse to dignify Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events or its director Brad Silberling with the dignity of being an integral part of this discussion.)

This all plays into the "expectations" argument a bit, but I wonder, what films did everyone find most disappointing in 2004? Did you completely dislike them, or did they just not live up to what your hopes for them? I remember not expecting much from The Terminal, but I was actually angry when I walked out because I couldn't believe that Spielberg would be so lazy to move ahead with a slapdash script containing tons of holes and virtually no logic. I was angry at him. I'm not angry at Anderson; just a bit sad that with all I liked about the movie, it still couldn't hold my interest enough to give a shit.

For those of you who just can't get on board with Huckabees, were you upset by the result because you anticipated something more straightforward and less esoteric from Russell? Were you expecting to love it? Do you find the film to simply reflect the director's pretensions?

I found that after seeing House of Flying Daggers, I had trouble deciding whether I liked it more or less than Hero, but my initial gut reaction told me I preferred Hero due to its more striking visuals, with those breathtaking vibrant colors at the mercy of Christopher Doyle's camera. While still wonderful, I found the look of Daggers less sumptuous. However, as I mentioned on my blog the other day, I was more interested in Daggers' love triangle, regardless of its simplicity, than Hero's Rashomon-like tale. The flaws of one are the strengths of the other.

So what does this all mean about the way we watch movies? Are you more disenchanted with a movie that doesn't fulfill its potential than one which never should have been very good to begin with?

One last thing before I take my leave, probably until sometime on Sunday: Back in the comments to Filmbrain's first post is a long discussion regarding auteurs. Britopia and Filmbrain both mention that films have been hurt by the desire of directors to write their own films, whereas so many of the greats from the early days never wrote their own scripts, or if they did, it was in collaboration with another writer.

I actually agree with their notion that too many writers want to direct while too many directors try to write, and sometimes the singular creative force can actually be detrimental. But what neither Britopia nor Filmbrain seem to take into account (unless I just missed it) is that this development has been in part a direct result of the changes in the business. In the Studio days, story departments would have dozens of writers under contract, churning out scripts which could then be selected by or assigned to directors under contract on the same lot. Directors weren't expected to write their own material, and people became directors by working as cameramen, assistant directors, etc.

That's just not the case anymore. These days, if you want to become a director, nobody is going to hand you the material to do so. Until you're a proven commodity, no major financier is going to sink millions into a production to allow you to direct a film, certainly not if the script comes from someone else and you have nothing else to show. These days, if you want to be a filmmaker, you either have to find a writing partner or be willing to create your own material. Otherwise, there's not really another way to even get in the door.

Alright, that's enough for me tonight. I believe each of us will be back once or twice throughout the weekend, but posting might be a bit lighter. Keep the comments going though.

Ten Ways of Looking at the Golden Globes

1) How much do you love that when you click on the "Golden Globes" link to the left, the awards show's homepage features a picture and bio of "Miss Golden Globes 2005," Kathryn Eastwood, daughter of Clint? Apparently it's an honor bestowed each year on a "second-generation performer," whose responsibilities include the onstage distribution of statuettes. Previous actor-spawn to have borne the title include Laura Dern (Bruce Dern's daughter), Joely Fisher (Eddie Fisher's), and Melanie Griffith (Tippi Hedren's). If we needed any more evidence that this occasion is a profoundly nepotistic, insidery one, there it is. (Not that following in Mom or Dad's footsteps is always a bad choice; I'll see anything with Laura Dern in it.)  Scariest of all, though: last year's "Miss Golden Globes" (a title just waiting to be made into a dirty joke) was the starlet of tomorrow, 18-year-old Lily Costner.

2) Turning to the nominations themselves: You know what movie I feel sorry for? The Machinist. I mean, poor once-hunky heartthrob Christian Bale loses 63 pounds, becoming (to judge by the trailers) a horrifying, ashen wraith, and neither the movie nor the performance gets nominated for any awards? And worse, no one even sees the damn thing? I tried to last night, out of pure sympathy, but it seems to have left town. The phenomenon of radically transforming one's body for a role, often in irrevocable and self-destructive ways, has always seemed both awe-inspiring and profoundly disgusting to me, like something out of Cronenberg's The Fly – it’s one of the reasons I haven’t seen Super Size Me yet, though I like its circus-stunt premise.

3) Most of the TV noms don't move me much one way or the other, but in the category of Best Supporting Actor in a TV series, I really would like to see Oliver Platt win an award for his amazing work as the substance-addicted lawyer on Showtime's Huff. I've always adored Oliver Platt -- I'd like to see him play Falstaff, or Bottom, or Orson Welles -- and he's really made that show his own this season. God knows Jeremy Piven is good in Entourage, and William Shatner kills in Boston Legal, but they're already beloved by cult fans -- give Platt his due!

4) Why doesn’t The Wire ever, ever get nominated for anything? (See #5)

5) Calling Jamie Foxx’s role in Collateral a "Supporting Actor" part seems so inexact as to be borderline offensive. What, because he was driving while black? Foxx’s cabbie is clearly the movie’s protagonist, and his screen time is, at the very least, equal to Tom Cruise’s, if not significantly greater (the whole opening with Jada Pinkett-Smith is Cruise-free, as is the long – too long – “Santa Claus” scene with Javier Bardem.) I guess because Foxx is already nominated for a Best Actor award for Ray, they had to spread the wealth around a little. But the fact remains that he was very good in two leading roles this year. Why not nominate him for both? Is that unprecedented?

6) The era of Sex and the City has been definitively supplanted by that of Desperate Housewives, like the mammals replacing the reptiles. Though the HBO series only went off the air nine months ago, it feels like ancient history. Any doubt about that can be cleared up by looking at the list of "Best Actress in a Television Series" nominations: The names of three women from the new ABC show -- Teri Hatcher, Marcia Cross, and Felicity Huffman -- literally crush down upon the name of Sarah Jessica Parker, separated from her oppressors only by the meager cushion of Debra Messing. (I agree with Aaron: why is Will & Grace still being recognized as an important show? Is it straight person's guilt or something? I've always been depressed by this sitcom, but if it ever had a peak, it's past it now.)

7) If Charlie Kaufman doesn't win the award for Best Original Screenplay, I'll -- what will I do? Dye my hair blue, like Kate Winslet in the movie, and take the train out to Montauk and gaze moodily at the sea. In fact, I may do that anyway.

8) Does anyone actually know any of the songs nominated for  Best Original Song? Aaron, you saw Phantom of the Opera last night --  have you spent all day humming "Learn to Be Lonely"? When I saw that category, I wondered why  nothing fromTeam America: World Police had been nominated, and not only because Kim Jong-Il's moving ballad, "I'm So Ronery," evoked the title of the Phantom song. I think Trey Parker and Matt Stone's true gift is for songwriting; it took me weeks to get Team America 's "America, Fuck Yeah!" theme song out of my head.

9) If Imelda Staunton won Best Actress for Vera Drake, it would be such a vicarious triumph for normal-looking women everywhere (in addition, of course, to being richly deserved, but who expects that at awards ceremonies?). It would just be so great to see this tiny, stout person sweep past Uma, Scarlett, Nicole and Hilary, all of them dripping in borrowed Harry Winston jewels, and hold aloft an award approximately as tall as she is.

10) To judge by the website, this year's GG ceremony, like last year's, has no host. It's a postmodern awards show, freed from the shackles of hostocentrism! Unfortunately, that very freedom made last year's proceedings feel sort of rudderless -- have the Golden Globes given up on emcees for good? Maybe, like the Phantom of the Opera, we'll just have to "learn to be lonely."

Pssst

If you haven't been reading the comments, you're missing out on well over more than half of The Conversation. Seriously, there is some amazing stuff going on and it's appearing after our humble posts. Do dip in.

It's probably the blogger's instinct in me, but I thought I'd point to a few threads that aren't immediately visible. Kill Bill, "film criticism progenitors" and "actor aversions" are among the topics brought up here. The essential questions Filmbrain raised about what we're looking for when we watch films are being addressed here (along with Gallo and Spider-Man) and here. Dogville, Huckabees and Dreamers? here. And that's just grazing at random.

I'll post again soon, but for now, I'm off not to dip but to dive into those comments...

Lush life

As I've mentioned elsewhere, I ended up seeing The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou and House of Flying Daggers on the same day. Exiting the theater after seeing the latter, I felt that I'd done a grave disservice to miniaturist Wes Anderson by throwing his film up against the sweep and grandeur and flying silks of Zhang Yimou's movie. Because, well, next to the lush, epic filmmaking, no red cap, Speedo, or animated jaguar shark could possibly compete. Daggers was a movie movie, fit for a palace; Aquatic was a clever diorama, a herky-jerk windup toy.

And I think, in a way, that begins to get at the problems I had with I [Heart] Huckabees. At no time did I feel that the sophisticated ideas being conveyed--and they were provocative enough to get me scribbling notes in the dark--were at all matched by the choices Russell made as a director to illustrate his points.  The animations looked clunky and junky, and while I laughed out loud at world's best paid lapdancer [Shania Twain] as a leitmotif and marveled anew at the genius of Mark Wahlberg, at no time did I feel the concepts were being portrayed in a way that improved on the experience of watching Bob Thurman drawing on a chalkboard in some classroom. No, not even Dustin Hoffman's free-flying schnoz.

Inflammatory words, perhaps, but with them, I'm off to catch a plane. I'll catch up with the Conversation tonight.

When you see black, I see white: Agreeing to disagree

Wow! I've been planning a post all day to respond to many of the various discussions in the posts and various comments below, but I haven't had time until now to sit and really write anything. Then, in order to continue my obsession (read: compulsion) with thoroughness, I went to see that noted Golden Globe Best Picture (Musical/Comedy) nominee The Phantom of the Opera -- the sole Best Picture nominee I hadn't seen. While I went in with very low expectations (it is a Joel Schumacher film, after all), it was far worse than I could have ever anticipated. You know that discussion David started about the Hollywood Foreign Press being secretive and suspicious and even "dirty." Well, here's your proof. Payola must be involved because there is no way in hell that out of all the films potentially called a musical or comedy, any group of 80 or 90 people could conceivably call this one of the best. In fact, I'm marking it right now on my Razzie nominations ballot.

But enough about that piece of crap (at least for now). I can rant about it on my own site some other time. I'm much more concerned with the post written by Filmbrain. (Shocker, I know.) Yes, it's true, I'm far more fascinated by his consistent praise of other pieces of crap, most notably The Brown Bunny, Buffalo '66 and, while it's not crap, the utter mediocrity in filmmaking that is We Don't Live Here Anymore.

Filmbrain poses (and answers) some very interesting questions relating to how and why we watch/like/obsess over movies, and I'd bet that a comparison between his answers and mine would not only reveal a lot about the two of us, but also why we disagree about so much. So before I take issue with just about every comment regarding each movie Filmbrain mentioned, let me try to answer at least some of his questions.

A brief tangent: when I went to UCLA (during the Bush administration that nobody ever thought would someday be preceded by the words "the first …"), I took a screenwriting course from Richard Walter. UCLA has long been noted for its screenwriting program, and along with Lew Hunter, Walter has been one of the school's most prominent teacher's. He was keen on getting across a couple primary lessons to all his students: the only book any writer truly needs to study is Aristotle's Poetics, and the word "entertain" is a derivative of "intertwine." Therefore, a good story should literally envelop its audience, grabbing them and not letting go until it's over.

While I don't buy everything Walter sells, I appreciate that little bit, and it's a roundabout way of explaining what I look for in a film. I don't look for any one thing – I don't want to limit myself in that way. Sure, there are plenty of subjects and types of stories that I enjoy more than others, but I also love to find new things; to discover and experience realities or visions that on the surface I may not think are compelling. Ultimately, what I look for is to be entertained, but in saying that, I don't refer to what is commonly thought of as "simple entertainment" or light diversions. I remember a few years ago I went to see Requiem for a Dream and Dancer in the Dark back-to-back. Can you imagine a heavier, more depressing day at the movies? (Watching the entirety of Shoah straight-through, maybe.) But I loved both movies and was thoroughly entertained. This year, I laughed my ass off at Dodgeball -- silly entertainment, definitely more diversionary. I sat on the edge of my seat throughout Spider-Man 2 (which like Liz, I also put on my list) – the smartest, most human and well-written action film maybe since Raiders of the Lost Ark. They all entertained me, just in different ways. They drew me into their worlds and didn't let me go until they were done with what they had to say.

I don't pay closer attention to any one thing over any other. I let the film dictate what I notice. If one element stands out – in a positive or negative way – that's what grabs me. Filmmaking is a collaborative art, so I try to watch the result of that group effort. Yet that collaboration is made up of pieces, and sometimes, one piece is noticeably stronger or weaker than another. Obviously, I always pay attention to the script, but with every other element resulting from that original life-force, it's all linked together. I start watching all films the same way, but then as one progresses, it may dictate how I see the rest of it. The world created by the filmmaker will, for instance, dictate how much leeway I give the story in terms of believability or realism. Does it work, for me, within the world created by the film.

And finally, while I like to think that when the lights go down (and the commercials are done, and the previews are finished, and it's 7 hours after the scheduled start of the film) and the movie starts, I'm able to leave my expectations at the door, I'd be lying if I tried to claim that as true. Even the smallest bit of previous knowledge will create some sort of expectation. The Aviator is a great example. I believe I liked it more than Filmbrain, but both of us agreed that it is not a "great Scorsese film." What does that mean? We hold Scorsese to a higher standard, of course. Had the exact same movie on screen now carried a director's credit of Michael Bay, would I be calling it a "great Michael Bay film"? You bet your ass I would because Bay could never make this movie. Instead, Hughes' plane crash would last another 30 minutes and have 7,329 edits, and the short flight of the Spruce Goose would involve a lot more wind sheer while taking up its own half-hour.

But I don't think expectations control my final opinion of a movie even as they might influence it. Phantom of the Opera is a good example, in fact. I expected bad; I didn't anticipate this bad. I didn't expect the lip-synching and ambient sounds during the songs to be completely off. I didn't expect the orchestrations to sound overly synth-heavy and tinny. I didn't expect Schumacher to forget that actors need direction, especially when they all look wooden and robotic. I didn't expect Andrew Lloyd Weber to allow his title character to be played by an actor who really doesn't have the voice for it.

The Brown Bunny on the other hand is a film that exceeded my expectations, even though I still didn't like it. As I wrote in my original review:

Believe it or not, some of The Brown Bunny actually is kind of interesting. Once you get through the interminable first hour, the final 25-30 minutes (which includes Gallo's ultimate narcissistic moment – the blow-job from Chloe Sevigny) is actually not a horrible short film, as long as you're judging as if said short was made by an early-20s NYU or Columbia MFA student with no budget.

I was even slightly amused, along with bored, by the first hour which must hold some hypnotic power affecting only those who have drunk the Kool-Aid, like my dear friend Filmbrain. He's right: the scene with the parents is interesting, but five good minutes out of 60 does not a film make. I don't need to repeat my entire review here, but what I read in Filmbrain's admiring comments are how much he likes this stylistic element or that song. But to what effect? They say absolutely nothing. OK, he's lonely. Got it. Wait, I'm sorry. He's very lonely. And there's something missing. What is it? A girl named "Daisy." So let's kiss a bunch of other women with flower names. Filmbrain: for someone who puts so much emphasis on avoiding the obvious and clichés, how can you defend this? Because it's "personal"? Well, to me, that's a cop-out.

But that's why we're different, I suppose, and I'm not trying to be the rest of the world to your Armond White, or vice-versa. You say the "much ado about nothing" ending doesn't take away from the "magnificent" first hour, and I think the ending is the only part of the film with any substance whatsoever. Your answers to your own questions intrigued me because we obviously watch films differently. For one thing, it sounds to me as if you won't even allow yourself to enjoy something that doesn't fit this relatively prescribed formula you've developed as to your likes and dislikes.

What's wrong with "shiny happy people doing shiny happy things" if it's presented within the constraints of an interesting story? What's wrong with fun? I'm not going to try to psychoanalyze you, and I'm also not trying to defend simplistic one-dimensional films, but personally, I would characterize Singin' In the Rain as a movie with "shiny happy people doing shiny happy things." If you try to tell me it's a bad movie, I'm definitely referring you to my shrink. Of course the characters go through changes and moments of unhappiness or trouble, but overall, it's a happy movie. Does that mean I don't also enjoy darker films? Me? The guy who can't stop talking about film noir? My absolute favorite film is Sunset Blvd, and The Red Shoes, Network, Taxi Driver and Umberto D. all fall somewhere in my all-time Top 20. I wouldn't exactly call any of them "happy." In fact, most of my favorite stories (film, TV or literature) involve some sort of examination of human obsessive behavior, but that doesn't mean I can't also appreciate something lighter and happier.

Why do you only want to feel uncomfortable? I mean, if that's your preference, that's also your prerogative. But what does it say about you (or anyone) who only wants to see unlikable flawed characters? There are plenty of likable flawed ones out there too. (I don't pretend to have an answer to that question.)

I think I probably enjoyed Closer for many of the same reasons as you did, but ultimately the movie didn't rise to its potential for me. (And just for the record, I do count myself as one who believes Natalie Portman pees pink lemonade.) My biggest problem with the movie was the horrible miscasting of Jude Law and (especially) Julia Roberts. I can't explain it better than Anthony Lane did: "Roberts is at her loveliest when she is funny, she is at her funniest when she is happy, and she is never at her happiest in this film." I loved Clive Owen and Portman (and not just because of the whole pink lemonade thing), but the film's flaws (I had problems with the whole sense of time throughout as well) just didn't do it for me.

Meanwhile, the great Spider-Man 2 was a modern hero story that also managed to express the trials and troubles of a young adult searching for and coming to terms with his own identity. How does he accept the gifts as well as the limitations placed upon him to be content in this world, especially if taking advantage of what he's best at could actually facilitate the loss of what he most desires. Spider-Man 2 is actually about lots of things, and the exciting visuals and action simply enhanced my enjoyment of watching it.

Well, I've used up way more space than intended, so I'll have to get to We Don't Live Here Anymore (which I don't by any means hate) and other topics some other time, but this is one of the things about film I find most fascinating. I know that Filmbrain is as passionate about movies as I am. There are probably many things regarding life, living and the real world about which we agree, but whether or not we watch movies the same way, we obviously process them differently. However, Filmbrain, I think your processor might be broken. Maybe you should have that checked. (I keed … I keed.)

I LIKE TO WATCH

I'm amazed at how much anxiety this post has caused me. I've written (and rewritten) it about four times now, and I'm still not satisfied. If we were sitting around a table, a bottle of Chateau Croix de Labrie in front of us, I'd have no problem. But instead, I feel like Chauncey Gardiner.

Before I move on to defending The Brown Bunny (as well as responding to Liz's charges), there are a few questions I'd like to ask the group so as to have some better footing going forward.

What do you want from a film, or what do you expect when you plop down your ten-fifty? For the moment, let's leave aside guilty pleasures, or consciously going to see something bad for a laugh. What is it you look for? Is there one thing you pay closer attention to over all others (acting, directing, screenplay, etc?) Do you always walk into a film with expectations? What if they're not met -- is the film automatically a failure? Do you watch all films the same way? Do a set of rules apply to Notre Musique that don't for Sideways (or vice-versa)? I realize these seem like awfully simple questions, but I think they go a long way in explaining how and why we react the way we do to a film.

When I sit down and watch a film, I want to be challenged, I want to be forced to think, and at the same time I want to feel something. (A tall order, I must admit.) Most important, I look for a sense of sincerity. I want the film to be a work of passion, and totally uncompromising. Devices, hooks, and conceits are turn-offs. Films that are too conscious of themselves, too self-satisfied, or jump up and down screaming, "Notice me! I'm a cute, quirky indie film! (read: Garden State), are irritating. The film needn't necessarily be meaty plot-wise, but at the very least it should bring something new if working within a well-worn genre. As for style vs. substance -- there's no magic formula. Some of the films on my list (particularly Oldboy) might not have made it on substance alone, but in the hands of Park Chan-wook (who's become something of a master of the revenge story) this sadistic tale becomes a feast of subdued colors and hypnotizing patterns, with a performance by Choi Min-sik that has to be seen to be believed.

What I most certainly don't want from a film is shiny happy people doing shiny happy things. I want to see imperfections, weaknesses, vulnerability, confusion, immorality -- and I don't want them to change after ninety minutes. (The redemption story has been done to death -- it's time to call a halt.) Films with characters I don't particularly like are far more compelling, especially if there's even the slightest hint of self-identification. I want to feel uncomfortable. In the case of uplifting or simply happy stories, I want them without contrivances or sentimentality. I'm also tired of hearing "I hated the character(s)" as the sole basis for a critical argument. Not that I'm accusing anybody here of doing that. . .

Moving on -- I've been staring at Liz's top ten list all day, gobsmacked. Goodbye, Dragon Inn, The Weeping Meadow, AND Spiderman 2?!? I must ask you to explain that last one. Raimi's film (perhaps a better title would have been The Sorrows of Young Parker) came across to me as nothing more than a badly acted, bombastic special effects orgy. But then again, I've never really been into guys or gals in long underwear saving humanity.

I can assure you that my choice of Closer has nothing to do with a fascination for Natalie Portman, nor have I ever given much consideration to what, when, and how she micturates. Closer is a flawed film, no question, but I found the dynamics between those four damaged characters to be of endless interest, and it felt almost voyeuristic at times -- something Nichols achieved years earlier in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf. I really credit Nichols with the success of the film -- there's a maturity and confidence to the direction that might have been a disaster in the hands of a newcomer. The performances were surprisingly effective, especially considering that I've never been terribly impressed with Roberts, Law, or Portman. Patrick Marber's screenplay is tight, sharp, downright nasty, and has an ending that packs quite a punch, if I may employ such a hackneyed phrase. Liz -- what is it about the film you didn't like? (I hope you're not of the "strip clubs don't play The Smiths" camp!)

Wisely anticipating this defense, I watched Vincent Gallo's The Brown Bunny again last night, and I appreciate it even more this time around. Rereading my original review, I realize I would be more enthusiastic if I wrote it today. I don't think anybody can argue that the film isn't incredibly personal. There's no cool, ironic distance from the story. I'm not implying that it's autobiographical, but when you consider The Brown Bunny next to Buffalo '66, you get a portrait of a man who is pretty fucked up -- or at the very least has the emotional maturity of a nineteen year-old (at least when it comes to women and relationships). Think of Gallo as a latter-day Woody Allen. (No, on second thought, don't.)

I think it's a cheap shot to call The Brown Bunny a rip-off of Two-Lane Blacktop. Though Gallo is clearly influenced by Hellman (as is just about every post-1971 road movie), if you watch the two films back to back and you'll see that Gallo has created something very much his own. The film's heart is rooted in 70s cinema, much more so than the stylistic exercises of David Gordon Green, Steven Soderbergh or James Cox. The film also owes a debt to experimental cinema -- the jerky handheld camera in the opening motorcycle race, the way sound cuts in and out unexpectedly (very Godard), the extreme close-ups, lens flare, etc. Then there's the use of music -- a subject near and dear to the Cinetrix -- which is nothing less than perfect here. The varied selections (Gordon Lightfoot, Jackson C. Frank, Ted Curson, a haunting Jeff Alexander song from the original Twilight Zone series) combined with how and when he uses them is pure magic. With all this going for it, how could I not be interested in Bud's story? (Does the scene with Daisy's parents have no effect on you? Watch the old man at the head of the table throughout the scene -- his ever-changing reactions are so hard to read. Is it disgust, disinterest, or is he merely a senile old man?) I admit that the ending, while sad, is much ado about nothing, but it doesn't take away from the first two-thirds of the film, which was magnificent.

For the life of me Liz, I cannot understand how you can call the film "visually uninteresting". It is easily the most beautiful American film I saw in 2004. I'm curious to hear what your problems are with it. As someone who has Goodbye, Dragon Inn on their best of 2004 list, I doubt you'll be one of those "it was just a guy driving across country" types. Do you, like Aaron, find it pretentious and/or disingenuine? The Brown Bunny is without question narcissistic, but it's not a mere vanity piece. This is a labor of love -- honest, uncompromising, and not playing into anybody hands. I'm afraid we're going to need a group screening in order to properly dissect the film.

I'm going to stop here -- though I very much want to get into a dialog about We Don't Live Here Anymore, as well as that absolute travesty of a film, Million Dollar Baby.

Movie mash-ups

The cinetrix is growing impatient. Will no one speak of this year's notable performances? And by "notable" I mean both good and bad in movies both good and bad.

Maybe an exercise is required to help everyone limber up?  I am stealing wholesale from the Film Experience here, who asked a couple of great questions recently.

Which character would most benefit from the services of "Existential Detectives" Bernand and Vivian from I ♥ Huckabees?

Which film couples would be the most likely to visit Eternal Sunshine's Lacuna, Inc. to erase each other... and still end up tormenting one another?

In the dark, I get such a thrill

Not to be a spoilsport [ah, who'm I kidding?], but what about the movies? You know, the stories we watch alone in the dark, rather than in a well-lit room while sprawled on the sofa?

Liz and I agreed early on that there should be no shame in not having seen a particular film--no one pays us to do this, after all. And I'm not much of one for top 10 lists. But in the spirit of shameless full disclosure, here are 10 of the movies I didn't see in 2004.

1. Spiderman 2
2. Shrek 2
3. Ocean's Twelve
4. Open Water
5. The Brown Bunny
6. Maria Full of Grace
7. Collateral
8. The Village
9. Fahrenheit 9/11
10. The Passion of the Christ

[crickets]

I also found it interesting how many of the Globes' acting nominees had two performances [at least] hit the big screen this year: Clive Owen, Natalie Portman, Jamie Foxx, Kate Winslet, Gael Garcia Bernal, Zhang Ziyi, Don Cheadle [v. busy!], Laura Linney, Nicole Kidman, Cate Blanchett, Meryl Streep, Johnny Depp, and Jim Carrey. Why, it's like the studio system, all this productivity! Better still, none of the nominations this year seem to be of the "my bad for not recognizing your earlier performance" ilk, a la Whoopi Goldberg getting the nod for Ghost rather than The Color Purple. Of course, there is that axis of "bad mother"/"bad girl" performances to mull over. What was it Parker said about running the gamut from A to B?

As for television, I only got cable, and basic at that, in October 2004. And even with it, I managed to happily squander my limited TV time watching Survivor, America's Next Top Model, Arrested Development, and Veronica Mars. But before you people give up on me completely, one of the most moving documentaries I saw this year was on PBS: Love and Diane. And one of the most entertaining was the five-night hip-hop history And You Don't Stop on VH1.

Let the pile-on begin.

Think About the Future

I'm surprised to find myself actually pleased that television is making such a sudden strong showing in the posts and comments of The Conversation. Weirdly, it's somewhat related to what I was about to get around to saying about the state of cinephilia, so let me back up and start there.

In short, and to state the obvious: DVD. A few weeks ago, Dave Kehr proclaimed in the New York Times that 2004 was the year the DVD "came of age," and relative to previous years, he may be right, but it does seem that many of us felt the little silver discs have made decisive breakthroughs and larger claims on our collective cultural experience each and every year for the past, oh, four or five at least. "Has there been a single technological advance - even the advent of sound - has changed movies as quickly and thoroughly as the DVD has?" asked Elvis Mitchell in those same pages way back in 2003. "Sound changed the scope of movies, but it didn't really change the way they were made, the way they were marketed or the way they were watched. The DVD is changing all those things."

And at a rapid, ongoing pace. As for how movies are made, think of just one easy example, the luxury Peter Jackson was able to take in going ahead and filming the demise of Saruman before he'd decided whether or not it'd be included in the theatrical version of The Return of the King. Which leads to how they're marketed: it's practically conventional wisdom now that, very broadly speaking, a theatrical release primarily serves as a promotional campaign for the DVD. But it's how movies are watched that's the most vital part of this overall equation. Mitchell wasn't alone in pointing out that the better DVDs are each like correspondence courses in a grand, freewheeling film school into which millions have enrolled - enthusiastically, too, sopping up lessons in film history, craft and, in some cases, maybe even a dash of theory.

Which, in turn, leads us to the delightfully irrational component in all this. You can't take those first steps and wade into the murky pool of cinephilia without access to movies. And yet the DVD isn't, of course, the first format to provide it; there've always been libraries, VHS had been around for a couple of decades, and eventually, there was Facets and so on. But just as, around five years ago, there was something about Napster that rekindled a love of music that had been long lost for so many, there's something about the DVD that's done the same thing for movies. You could probably break it down and quantify it, but ultimately, DVDs are simply, irrationally, cool.

And we watch them on our TVs. Now, then. I really don't want to talk shop too much here, but one of GreenCine's managing directors and our content acquisitions fellow have just returned to the main office in San Francisco from the Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas all abuzz about the ever wider, ever more fluid hook-up between the PC and the TV. Yes, this is something geeks and futurists have been chatting up for literally decades, but now concrete steps are being taken in that direction. With that in mind, consider what the Web did to the CD-ROM. Hell, the plain ol' music CD has had a far sturdier life span, but look at what the iPod and iTunes are doing to it now. In whatever form(s) it takes, video-on-demand, or whatever else it is that we end up calling it, is on the verge of doing the same thing to the DVD. Of course, none of us have any idea of when that might happen - three years at the very least, presumably, maybe as many as 13? - but recently in Slate, Paul Boutin even went as far as to suggest that the vicious (and expensive) battle over the next generation of the DVD (i.e., Blu-ray vs HD-DVD) may turn out to be completely irrelevant.

To steer this back to relevance, though, there are signs all over the place that the line between shooting a "film" and shooting a "TV show" is getting fuzzier by the hour. Let me just spill a bowl of random thoughts:

• Britopia brings up Deadwood, "the best film I saw last year"; just as notably, I think, is that it hopefully signals the welcome return of Walter Hill as a director. In the same vein, a few months ago, Joy Press had a piece in the Voice about the impressive number of idiosyncratic directors whose only hope at the moment is cable TV.

• In this, the year of the doc, how many of them were actually little more than glorified and extended segments of 60 Minutes or Frontline? Not that there's anything wrong with that; one of Michael Moore's accomplishments has certainly been to prove that a doc can be worthy of event status.

• Digital video is progressing by leaps and bounds, and its possibilities are being explored by talents as vastly varied as Jonathan Caouette and Michael Mann.

• The home viewing experience progresses as well, already beating that to be had in a typical suburban cineplex. The ways the demands of TV used to hamper filmmaking (e.g., producers requiring directors to simplify compositions, make greater use of close-ups, etc., so they could sell movies to broadcasters) are diminishing rapidly.

Now, none of this suggests a complete merger or, if you like, unfriendly takeover. But these bits of evidence of an overall evolution, combined with the eventual rise of video-on-demand, suggest a possible cinematic equivalent of the much ballyhooed and pined for "celestial jukebox" in the relatively near future. In the most utopian terms, imagine being able to call up on your widescreen home display a digitally remastered version of just about any film you can think of, and then, after watching it, with or without subtitles and so on, selecting this or that associated doc or commentary or checking to see what this or that scholar or even "snake-hipped wordslinger" has had to say about it - and then perhaps leave a comment of your own. Imagine how much Criterion could save on packaging and manufacturing, that is, how much it could invest in salvaging our cinematic heritage instead.

In part, and I guess not so briefly as I'd planned (I haven't even touched on what digital projection, via satellite or wires, might do for local festivals, because I'm sure we'll never want to let go of the communal experience of watching movies together), these are some of the reasons I'm an upbeat cinephile.

May You Live in Interesting Times

Hi y’all. I’m late to the party as I was on deadline all day, but have been keeping close tabs on the Convo from afar, and just wiggling to jump in. I’m thrilled to be included in this discussion with four of the best of what I consider real film bloggers, graphomaniacal culture mavens whose cinephilia – nay, cinephagia – puts my own modest and infrequently-updated efforts to shame. To judge by your sites, you seem to keep up with everything, see everything, blog everything – and for free! In so doing, you’ve definitely put Baby in the corner – I’ve probably kept up with movies less in 2004 than any year in the past decade, just because I’ve had to do so much TV-watching for my job.

I’ll leave behind the methodological question of film blogging vs. film criticism for now – to me, having a website was always just a way to be able to talk about movies for longer than any of my friends would let me. As for “snake-hipped wordslingers” (assuming that epithet does refer to bloggers and not, as I supposed, young professional critics), I’m going to choose to take it as a compliment that anyone, by any stretch of the imagination, would refer to me as “snake-hipped.” And “word-slinger?” Hell yeah, motherfuckers! You better duck, ‘cause here come some words right now:

Everyone talks about what a great year for movies this was, but it had its share of disappointments as well: for me, some might include The Dreamers,The Manchurian Candidate, The Terminal, The Stepford Wives, We Don’t Live Here Anymore, The Life Aquatic, Closer, Collateral. And those are just movies one might have reasonably expected to be good. There were also the obvious, foreordained dogs like Alexander, Troy (please, someone tell me Hollywood hasn’t gone on a classical-epic jag),The Alamo (insert remember-the-Alamo joke here), The Village, and Van Helsing. (I haven’t seen the last two, but I’ll take everyone in the universe’s word for it: they blew.)

I think what this really was a great year for – record-breakingly great – was talking about movies. David’s right, it was the Year of Arguing Dangerously. As crudely broad-brushed and depressing as many of the debates about politics, and movies, and politics-through-movies often became, it was somehow galvanizing that they were happening at all. Remember that period in early spring, when everyone was talking about The Passion? (After I saw it, I went out with a group of ten people, who shouted each other down over spaghetti for hours.) And then in summer, everyone was talking about Michael Moore (usually in loud voices, ignoring their interlocuters, their margarita sloshing over the sides of their glass.) And of course, in the fall, it was the election, finding its way into every conversation, every metaphor, every meal. It’s like the Chinese curse about living in interesting times – that was 2004.

I’m not usually much of a list-maker, but since they’re wonderful for stirring up the blood, here’s a quickly assembled one, in alphabetical order, and with apologies to all the probably-fabulous movies I haven’t seen:

Bad Education
Control Room
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Goodbye, Dragon Inn
Los Angeles Plays Itself
Notre Musique
Sideways
Spiderman 2
Touching the Void
Vera Drake
The Weeping Meadow

As readers of my site know, I’m also very fond of I ♥ Huckabees, but I wouldn’t put it on a ten-best list because I think it’s too much of an acquired taste. In other words, I wouldn’t know how to persuade anyone to like it; I just do. Haven’t yet seen The Aviator or Million Dollar Baby – I may actually rush out and do so before the Conversation is up, just to be able to opine on these 800-lb, Oscar-seeking gorillas.

Now, Filmbrain, honey, let’s talk about your list:The Brown Bunny as #11 film of the year? A choice this audacious puts the burden of proof on you. To me, this film was Gallo’s Folly, a murky, visually uninteresting ripoff of Two-Lane Blacktop, with all the wrong casting (I know Warren Oates, and Mr. Gallo, you’re no Warren Oates) and none of the wit. (Though I did love Chloe Sevigny’s outfit at the end, for the brief span of time in which she had it on.) And Closer as #7? Wait – are you one of those Natalie Portman guys, whose knees go buttery every time she pees pink lemonade? (If so, you’d be in good company: Anthony Lane says, “Her beauty is by now so extreme that its sole purpose is the feeding of obsession.”) What did you think of Garden State?

In closing, and just to keep the conversation lively, I’m going to throw out some of the hot-button film titles of the year, like a kid shouting swear words at the table just to get a reaction: The Dreamers. Dogville. Passion of the Christ. Fahrenheit 9/11. I ♥ Huckabees. Discuss.

(Now that I’m ready to post, I see that the Conversation has bi- or trifurcated into all sorts of interesting digressions: Television? The auteur theory? I’m on it. But first let me get this post in edgewise.)

Here to please: Who knew TV would come up so soon?

So a reader named Britopia commented that if we were going to discuss the Golden Globes, we really should also mention TV, which at least deserves a seat "at the kids' table."

Deadwood was the best film I saw last year, with the best performance by an actor (Ian McShane). Can we talk about long (i.e., 12-hour) narratives as movies, even if they were made for the box? Kieslowski and Fassbinder did their best work for TV.

Suddenly, Britopia and Filmbrain are in the middle of this big auteur discussion, and as expected, cinetrix had to intervene to make sure nobody got hurt.

We weren't really going to discuss too much TV in this forum, but I'll take my seat with the kiddies in order to provide some insight. I did, however, create my own rankings of the best television series of 2004 on my web site. (And thanks Filmbrain for calling me the resident expert, but one of Liz's multiple personalities isn't too shabby herself.)

While many of the production elements may be the same, television and film are really different media. When discussing specific difference between a series and a film, the gap between the two widens. Britopia rightfully mentions that The Sopranos is thought of as David Chase's show rather than any episode belonging to its director. Of course, films are often given a possessive credit belonging to the director which can continuously ruffles the feathers of the Writer's Guild. The way I distinguish between the two may get me in some trouble, but it's quite simple and ultimately I believe due to a combination of creative and logistical necessity. Here we go:

Movies are a director's medium. Television is a writer's medium. Simple as that. Yes, they're both collaborative, but the primary creative force for each is different.

Do I consider Eternal Sunshine Michel Gondry's movie? Absolutely. Yes, the initial dream comes from Charlie Kaufman, but any other director would make a completely different movie. Even attempting to recreate a film word-for-word, shot-for-shot still results a different animal as Gus Vant Sant proved with his Psycho in 1998. If Spike Jonze had directed Eternal Sunshine, it might still have been a wonderful film, but I actually don't think it would have been as good. (And I love Jonze, definitely falling into the camp that considered Adaptation one of 2002's best.)

Television is simply different. From a logistical standpoint, it's impossible to have the same director helm every episode – at least on an hour long show. The traditional schedule for an hour-long drama is a week of prep followed by eight days of shooting and a week of post (or a some similar schedule). The director of an episode has to be involved throughout the entire process. If one person was to direct every episode, it would take over 40 weeks to produce a 13-episode season. Broadcast network shows generally run 22-23 episode seasons, and 40 weeks for a shorter seasons is a long, inefficient and expensive schedule for any production.

Additionally, I don't want to say the script is more important in television because that's not true, but there is a different style of storytelling because the dramatic arcs have to span a much longer period. The scripts must stay relatively consistent in tone, and even though different writers (usually parts of a team, however) will tackle individual episodes, they still have to write following the "bible" of that show, retaining the character voices and plot elements belonging to that specific series. Too, a director would be even more restricted, and controlled by many of the same limitations as to what he/she may be able to do with an individual episode. Unless you're dealing with an anthology series featuring a utterly new stand-alone stories each week, you only have so much leeway with such creative choices before you're making something other than that specific series.

I do agree, however, that there is a trend in television (a good one), primarily because of the cable networks and these shorter runs, towards greater emphasis on season-long story arcs and therefore more of that feeling of a series a long movie. HBO's The Wire is possibly the best example of this since each season has had a very distinctive focus, born out of the same world and characters but creating something akin to self-sufficient novels (as I like to call them) for television. The same is true with most of the HBO and Showtime series, but it can also be seen on FX series like Nip/Tuck and The Shield. The Sopranos is probably responsible for it all, and even the broadcast nets have dabbled in the area a bit with shows like 24

I know I criticized the Globes in my first post, but to give some credit where it's due, the HFPA often does a better job selecting its TV honorees than the movie ones, and its choices are often much better than the nominees and winners at the Emmys. Case-in-point, as Britopia rightfully mentioned, Deadwood and its lead actor Ian McShane. Both were snubbed by Emmy this year, and both arguably should have won their respective categories. They've got Globe nominations, and I wouldn't be surprised to see McShane and the show take home the stautette.

The only mystery to me is why anyone gives a shit anymore about Will & Grace. I can't watch this show (and haven't been able to for probably about two years) without suffering from a very painful migraine. It's just not funny anymore. As the years go by, the characters have become more one-dimensional and schtick-dependent rather than growing in any meaningful way, and I don't think any other series is as dependent on constant stunt casting. Why does everyone love it so? Why does it keep receiving nominations when there are plenty of better choices?

One last point: much as I think 2004 was a great year for movies, it was also one of the best years for television in recent memory. Along with great returning series on HBO and other noteworthy shows like Arrested Development, the new season has brought us creatively fresh, interesting and distinctive new shows like Lost, Desperate Housewives, and Veronica Mars. There is stronger writing across the TV spectrum than there has been in a long time, and even though we're saddled with multiple Law & Orders and CSIs (and they're all just fine), this season has in many ways been a breakthrough and hopefully a glimpse of better things to come.

MOVIES...NOW MORE THAN EVER

To begin, a word of thanks to the Cinetrix for organizing this confabulation, and for seeing fit to include a cranky contrarian such as myself. How very appropriate to invoke Joseph L. Mankiewicz in your post -- a hero of mine, and the kind of screenwriter they seldom build anymore. (A point I will no doubt return to as we discuss some of the films listed on the left.) As I write this introductory piece, I'm reminded of another appropriate Addison DeWitt line:

While you wait you can read my column. It'll make minutes fly like hours.

The 2004 Slate Movie Club was something hotly debated and discussed in film circles both on and offline. Besides the usual arguments about the year's best/worst films, much was said about the current state of film criticism, including some disparaging remarks about film bloggers. We're viewed as young, hip, posturing word-slingers that don't know what we're talking about. (While it's very possible that I'm guilty of that last bit, I'm 0 for 3 on the other charges.) As the Cinetrix pointed out, we're proud of our amateur standing, but what we say is pure passion. Salon's Stephanie Zacharek says it best:

A critic's reasons for loving/hating something (as long as they're true gut reasons and not just a desperate grab at hipness) are where anything interesting about that critic are going to lie—as long as they're well-supported and well-argued and, again, come from the heart.

I couldn't agree more. As my own best of 2004 list shows, I championed some rather unpopular titles, but not simply to go against the grain. These were the films that spoke to me this past year, the films that challenged, moved, and grabbed me, or, in the case of the few genre films on the list, brought something fresh to the table. A dysfunctional relationship of some sort is the common thread through all of my picks, which must say more about me than I'm willing to admit. With each passing year, I grow less and less patient with films that are constructed, rather than made. Films that are pre-conceived as Oscar material. It's dangerous, and a further step towards homogenization. It bothers me that the word 'masterpiece' is tossed around with great ease, as is the fact that fame, popularity, and past successes guide critical opinion. (Not to mention aggressive marketing campaigns!) As a screenwriter who still believes in the art of the screenplay, it's appalling what has become acceptable. (I blame McKee and his acolytes more than anything else.) There were several films this year that had a lot going for them, but were ultimately ruined by weak, predictable screenplays that immediately yanked me out of the world they spent so much time introducing me to. I'll hold off on titles for the moment -- at least until the momentum builds.

I'm pleased to hear that David is mostly optimistic about the state of cinephilia -- living in Berlin might have something to do with that. Sure, the multiplexes are full of Hollywood garbage, but as I noted back in September, the city is thriving with tiny, independent theaters offering a great variety of world cinema. My own sense of optimism wavers from day to day. While discovering Korean cinema was a much-needed boost, it seems that even they are headed down the high-concept big-budget path.

As for award shows -- heck yeah, they're fun to watch -- mostly in hopes that a celeb or two will say or do something asinine. It's interesting how the Golden Globes have managed to elevate their status in the past few years, and are now perceived as an overture to the Oscars. I regret not seeing the Jayanti documentary, though Trio seems to repeat things often enough. I recently heard that an overwhelming majority of the voting scribes that make up the HFPA are white males in their mid-forties. Any truth to that?

So, who's going to be the first brave soul to toss out a title or two?

Jumping Into the Fray

Aaron from Out of Focus here. Sadly, unlike the member's of Slate's "Movie Club," I don't get to make my living through my film opinions, and every now and then, this day job creeps up and takes control of my life. Today was one of those days. Hell, I haven't even been able to sit at a computer most of the day -- I'm shaking from the DT symptoms. But now, things are much better.

When the great and magnificent cinetrix (she's a Wizard-like figure in film bloggerdom's version of Oz to me) first contacted me about joining this modern film-oriented online Algonquin Round Table, I looked around to make sure she was talking to me. Of course, I was reading an email, addressed to me, so really this is just an indication of me being a little slow on the uptake. But I was honored and excited to be thought of and included with esteemed colleagues such as these.

What do I bring to the table? Well, aside from the pleasure of debunking any and everything Filmbrain ever tries to argue regarding Vincent Gallo, I suppose I'm the one of us who actually does try (and fail miserably) to see everything, large and small, good and bad, mainstream and indie, foreign and domestic. Hell, I'm even a Razzie voter, so while I may not "enjoy" bad movies, part of me does "enjoy watching" them. If you want to get an idea of from where I come, you can head over to my site and check out my top films of 2004, which I just posted this morning. No surprise to anyone who reads my site, Eternal Sunshine is number one on my list (and number two on Filmbrain's, by the way, signifying that we don't disagree on everything).

Meanwhile, David's comments about the Golden Globes are quite interesting, and as someone who has followed the awards and the secretive HFPA for many years -- and I actually did see the doc The Golden Globes: Hollywood's Dirty Little Secret on Trio last year -- I am ready, willing and able to discount the group as anything but a phenomenal PR machine. The only reason the Globes have gained as much recognition, and therefore power, as they have is due to their ability to throw a good party; one that this star wants to go to because he hears that that star is showing up with an entourage four times as big as the latest flash-in-the-pan star. The awards themselves? While I am loath to admit it, I agree with Tom O'Neil (to a point). Why anyone ever actually granted him "expert" status is beyond me. Most of what he says or writes turns out to be complete nonsense. (Case-in-point, his too-easily refutable Jan. 2 story in the New York Times -- reg. & $$ unfortunately req'd -- which tried to make the case that the more handsome the actor, the less likely he is to win an Oscar. Poor Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe -- never knew they were considered so ugly. Too bad he never takes into account any year's competition.) However, David's characterization of O'Neil's opinion in David's post is half-right: the Globes are a big scam. I don't think that's as true for the major critics awards or the Oscars, even though every group obviously exhibits certain biases. But no single event projects more importance without really possessing any credibility than the HFPA and the Golden Globes.

I don't want to dwell solely on the Globes -- there's plenty more interesting conversation to be had simply about this magnificent past year in film -- but I do find it interesting that for the first time in who-knows how many years, there are more truly great films nominated in the "Best Picture - Musical/Comedy" category than in the "Best Picture - Drama" one, even though the latter has six nominees to the former's five. Of the 11 total "Best Picture" nominees, I've seen all but Phantom of the Opera, and if you take a look at my Top 10, you'll see that I rank three of the comedies -- Eternal Sunshine, Sideways and The Incredibles -- in my top 5, while only The Aviator even makes the list, and at the very bottom. Obviously, plenty of great films didn't receive nominations, and some of the nominees made my "Next Tier" and "Honorable Mention," but I'd be curious to know if my fellow travelers here would agree with me that the lighter side had a better year, or at least existed at a higher level of quality than the more traditional dramas? And is this a result of many of these films really not being traditional comedies at all? (Ray and Phantom obviously fulfill the "musical" part of this category; Ray absolutely doesn't deserve to be here, and although I can't officially comment and state what I expect from about a huge budget musical production directed by Joel Schumacher, I suppose it's conceivable the film wouldn't be a total mess." Instead, all three of the "good" nominees in the "Musical/Comedy" category span genres and stories. The Incredibles is animated fantasy, comedy and family drama. Eternal Sunshine contains funny moments, but it too is more romantic fantasy, or maybe metaphysical romantic psycho-fantasy, than anything else. And Sideways has plenty of laughs, but also plenty of loneliness, obsessive compulsive behavior, and heartache. Are comedies becoming more serious? Or are these movies just more complicated? I vote for the latter.

That’s my time for now. I look forward to continuing this Conversation, and can’t wait for the others to jump into the fray.

Round the Outside

Joining the Conversation from Berlin means shifting into Harry Caulesque eavesdropping mode when certain films come up - simply because they haven't opened here yet. Not that I'm one to catch every Globe- or Academy-nominated film each year in the first place, but we'll get to that. Every year, though, both ceremonies, complete with homemade pre-show chit chat, are broadcast live, in the dead of night, in Germany and probably a good handful of other European countries as well, and this year's no different. And people watch. Either at home or at midnight-to-dawn viewing parties (such as one in a theater on Potsdamer Platz, where you can gawk at the proceedings projected on a screen the size of Kansas), or they watch 90 minutes worth of dubbed "highlights" broadcast at a reasonable hour the following evening.

The fact that, short of a very recent transatlantic jaunt, there's no way they'll have actually seen a good number of the films nominated and yet they watch anyway (and by "they," I mean me, too), pretty much sums up what most of these awards races are about. They're shows, of course, and relatively cheap to produce, too, when you consider all that star power corralled onto a single location. The attraction: top talent playing famous people. See Johnny Depp as... Johnny Depp! A far more inviting proposition than watching him play, say, JM Barrie. Watch the delicate balance within his persona teeter towards the get-me-outta-here when the MC trumpets, "Sexiest man alive!," and yet it does not fall!

Well, living in a foreign country has saddled me with the task of looking into this whole Hollywood Foreign Press Association thing. Fortunately, I immediately recall a minor flurry of controversy following the airing of The Golden Globes: Hollywood's Dirty Little Secret, a doc I have not seen, directed by Vikram Jayanti, who co-produced a doc I have seen and quite liked, When We Were Kings. But reading about Dirty Little Secret may be as much fun as watching it, who knows.

For kicks, I'll point to two opposing views. In one corner, Phil Rosenthal (no, I hadn't heard of him before, either), who gleefully ticks off the basics: The HFPA is composed of just under a hundred scribes, all of whom claim to write for some media outlet out there somewhere and must prove it by submitting four clips a year. Four. Per year. The quote most often pulled in reviews of Dirty comes from the LA Weekly's John Powers: "What's different about the Golden Globes is that you're dealing with people who are outside the industry, who are essentially sort of bottom feeders around the industry."

In the opposite corner, and piping up in defense of the HFPA, is Tom O'Neil, who, of course, is the author of Movie Awards, host of GoldDerby and so on, and cannot afford to stand idly by when someone sprinkles arsenic on his bread and butter. So the bottom line he takes - the HFPA is no worse than any other awards-awarding organization, and specifically in his piece on Dirty, the Academy and the LA Film Critics Association - is something of a surprise: they're all scams. And wouldn't you know it, he's pretty convincing, too.

But most wars and elections are scams, too, and all these awards do far less harm, so let's watch and have good popcorn fun and, most of all, like the cinetrix says, talk about the films that really mattered. I don't have a top ten, but I'll mention two bests and one worst, far as I'm concerned, all three of which I caught at the Berlinale, always the frantic peak of my movie-viewing year. Of all the films I've seen since way back last February, none have moved me more nor stuck with me longer than Before Sunset and Gegen die Wand (Head On) and none have been as laughably bad as The Final Cut.

But more about more films - and about why I'm generally optimistic about the state of cinephilia these days - as more Conversationalists chime in.

Fasten your seatbelts

Welcome to the Conversation.

Let's deal with the whole anxiety of influence at the top, shall we? At first glance, the Conversation may appear to be a group of film blogger Eve Harringtons, casting a gimlet eye on the year in movies as we ape the print critic Margo Channings over at Slate's Movie Club. Look more carefully and you'll realize we are closer in kind to the original "snake-hipped word-slinger," Addison DeWitt. To wit:

We all come into this world with our little egos equipped with individual horns. If we don't blow them, who else will?

But our patron saint is Harry Caul.

Though our timing may be related to awards season, you should think of the Conversation as a cinephile's Golden Globes-watching party. This Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and next Monday, the sound gets turned down, and everyone raucously argues about what films really mattered in the past year. Which is to say, I expect we'll go off the res soon enough. After all, if Jim Brooks can get away with framing an entire film as a college application essay... but I get ahead of myself.

So who's this we? It's far from royal. We're rank amateurs, and proud of it. There's no obligation to see schlock, no j-school-imposed notions of objectivity, and no guilt if we haven't seen an acclaimed film, either.

David Hudson is the film blogger Doc Ock: No film link on the Internerd is beyond his reach. He covers the world at Daily GreenCine. Based in Berlin, David promises he will tell us who the Hollywood Foreign Press think they are and why we should care. For starters.

Aaron Out of Focus and Filmbrain are like a blogging buddy-movie duo--think Grodin and DeNiro--who've been working their disagreement shtick from the get-go. But even when they seem on the verge of coming to blows [two words: Vincent Gallo], neither one ever mistakes name-calling for criticism.

"Liz Penn writes on film and culture for the High Sign" may be the understatement of the century. She's got a thousand words for each picture.

And me? Well, I'm the cinetrix, and I enjoy being a girl.

Like any blog, this is not a closed system. Please join the Conversation in the comments. David identified 2004 as the Year of Arguing Dangerously. It was. And we will, gloves off.

But let's have a good, clean fight. Come out swinging. And no hits below the belt.

There's the bell.