I’ve been mixing it up with Joyce at Gold Derby throughout the endless 2021 awards season. Fun times!
tumblr dot com
i don't do bad sauce passes
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
dirt enthusiast
cherry valley forever
sheepfilms

Love Begins

★
Claire Keane

roma★
NASA
will byers stan first human second
Mike Driver
DEAR READER
taylor price

Andulka
Not today Justin

Discoholic 🪩

⁂
Three Goblin Art
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Indonesia

seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from China

seen from Germany

seen from Italy

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia
seen from Chile

seen from United States

seen from United States
@42inchtv
I’ve been mixing it up with Joyce at Gold Derby throughout the endless 2021 awards season. Fun times!
Some Thoughts On The Best Movies Of 2019
Honorable Mentions: “Always Be My Maybe” (dir. Nahnatchka Khan), “Avengers: Endgame” (dirs. Joe and Anthony Russo), “Her Smell” (dir. Alex Ross Perry), “The Highwaymen” (dir. John Lee Hancock), “Joker” (dir. Todd Phillips), “Knives Out” (dir. Rian Johnson), “The Laundromat” (dir. Steven Soderbergh), “Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story By Martin Scorsese” (dir. Martin Scorsese), “Spider-Man: Far From Home” (dir. Jon Watts), “Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker” (dir. J.J. Abrams), “Toy Story 4″ (dir. Josh Cooley), “Triple Frontier” (dir. J.C. Chandor), “Under the Silver Lake” (dir. David Robert Mitchell), “Waves” (dir. Trey Edward Shults), “Yesterday” (dir. Danny Boyle)
10. “High Flying Bird” (dir. Steven Soderbergh) Steven Soderbergh loves process movies, films where collaboration has to take place in order to achieve a set goal. So, heists. Almost all of Soderbergh's movies have a heist element in the text -- often literally, as with the "Ocean's" franchise or "Logan Lucky"; sometimes deeper, as with "Magic Mike" or "High Flying Bird." This new Soderbergh joint is a fucking blast -- and right from the start, with Andre Holland rat-tat-tatting his way through a fancy lunch with an NBA rookie who's still wet behind the ears (Melvin Gregg, good stuff). On the face of it, "High Flying Bird" is a heist movie, one where we watch Holland's Ray and his dogged former assistant (Zazie Beetz) use shoe-leather to stop an NBA lockout and make themselves a lot of money in the process. But its deeper reading is about a disrupter trying to disrupt again without falling behind the curve (it might as well be about Soderbergh himself). The ideas presented in "High Flying Bird" are so modern its almost as if Soderbergh has seen the future, one where athletes democratize sports in the way so many other fields have been democratized by social media. The production and release of "High Flying Bird" -- it was shot on an iPhone and dropped on Netflix -- are timely too. Soderbergh continues to get over on all these guys, doing it better and faster than most people half his age. Maybe he loves heists so much because he's made a career out of pulling jobs on the unsuspecting for 30 years.
9. “Booksmart” (dir. Olivia Wilde) A classic right out of the box, even in spite of the ponderous discourse surrounding its release. “Booksmart” takes the one-crazy-night structure and core relationship of "Superbad" and mixes it with the heart and sincerity of "Lady Bird" to create a coming-of-age movie that transcends gender and time and finds room to turn Beanie Feldstein into a giant star. This is a god-level performance, paying off what everyone hoped would happen after she played the beta in "Lady Bird." She's the alpha here and tears the movie to shreds. Give her a goddamn Oscar.
8. “Parasite” (dir. Bong Joon Ho) There is always another bottom. “Parasite” starts as one kind of movie and becomes another and the deftness with which it transitions is but one of the many delights buried within what has become a landmark release. Two things to note, before hitting the next blurb: first, the ending montage is unforgettable, quite literally as I’ve often replayed it in my head during quieter moments; and second, the score is the best of the year.
7. “Little Women” (dir. Greta Gerwig) Bigger in scope and bolder in construction than “Lady Bird,” Gerwig’s adaptation of “Little Women” stamps her as one of the best filmmakers working today. No one is able to be as honest in depicting complicated human feelings and as unafraid to portray outright empathy amid conflict. The only downside to Gerwig hitting the rarefied air of an auteur is that she doesn’t seem to want to act anymore. But we’ll take the role switch if there are more movies like “Little Women” on the horizon.
6. “Marriage Story” (dir. Noah Baumbach) Noah Baumbach is never really mentioned when conversations turn to best directors; he’s always felt a tier behind the Tarantinos and Scorseses of the world. But given a second thought, it’s hard to imagine why. Baumbach has been knocking out four-star movies since the ‘90s and “Marriage Story” might be his best. (Thanks to Netflix, it’s also by far his most widely seen; my parents even watched this one.) The divorce drama turned meme generator is typical Baumbach: smart people arguing about life with a bite that doesn’t shy away from showing the underside of humanity. But it feels like his most complete film, a perfect marriage of his earlier cynical work and his buoyant Gerwig period. It goes without saying but let’s say it anyway: Adam Driver is remarkable in this one, giving the best performance of the year. But Scarlett Johansson matches him scene for scene, a reminder of the raw talent she displayed during the “Lost in Translation” years when she was basically Andruw Jones for actors.
5. “Hustlers” (dir. Lorene Scafaria) From the opening tracking shot -- an unbroken take that follows newbie Destiny (Constance Wu in her best performance yet) as she tries to scratch together some cash during her first night at the klerb -- Lorene Scafaria makes her case for a Scorseseian tribute previously done best by Paul Thomas Anderson. But “Hustlers” isn’t a mere riff on “Goodfellas” or “Boogie Nights,” it’s a Trojan horse packed tight with big statements on the long-lasting ramifications of the 2008 financial crisis, the bonds of true friendship, and the way parenthood literally changes the mind of a parent (”motherhood is a mental illness,” Jennifer Lopez’s Ramona says twice during the film, first with a laugh and then later with a tear). It all culminates with a finale that doubles as a punch in the gut, with a monologue delivered by Lopez that should replace Ben Affleck’s juicy dialogue from “The Town” for aspiring actors on YouTube. Through it all, Scafaria controls every frame and sequence with confidence and ease not portended even by her previous solid work. It’s some masterful stuff, as is the way she’s able to tease out powerful performances from her motley crew of actors: Cardi B (lol sure), Lizzo, Lili Reinhart, Keke Palmer, Wu, and, of course, J.Lo, who does Robert De Niro in “Goodfellas” better than anyone else who has tried since 1990.
4. “Us” (dir. Jordan Peele) Oh, hey, “Us” is awesome. A “Twilight Zone” riff mixed with a greatest hits of references (including but not limited to “Scream,” “Jaws,” “The Shining,” “Signs,” “Funny Games,” “The Cabin in the Woods,” and “C.H.U.D.”) that throws a bunch of big, lofty ideas into the batter. Chief among them: How the ruling class must be taken out by the disenfranchised and how the disenfranchised, after wresting power from that class, will not go quietly into the night. (Alternate take: Bury the unwoke person you were as a youth before they can come back and ruin your life.) It all works so well — thrilling and hilarious, often at the same time. Lupita Nyong’o is otherworldly here (best actress 2020) and Winston Duke does an outrageous Jordan Peele impression that should please dads everywhere. Highest praise: During a year when we celebrated the greatness of 1999 movies, “Us” would rank up there with the best of the lot.
3. “The Irishman” (dir. Martin Scorsese) I've never thought to cry while watching a Martin Scorsese movie. That's not the kind of filmmaker he has been previously -- and even the movies he's made that pack an emotional wallop do so with almost surgical precision. Perhaps he's getting softer in his old age, or maybe I am: on my third viewing of "The Irishman" (but really, let's call it what it is: "I Heard You Paint Houses"), I teared up on more than one occasion. The elephant in the room after its release became Peggy and the wrongly perceived lack of agency given to her character. But watching how her relationship with Frank unfolds from birth to death with so few words is the movie's greatest trick. The first time we see Peggy, as an infant, she casts her big eyes on dad; those same glances -- angry, heartbroken, disgusted, pitiful stares -- make up their entire relationship. Only once does Frank experience something similar: after he kills Hoffa (a 20-minute sequence that features little dialogue and no music; we stan), Frank is next shown watching from a church pew as Bill Bufalino gives away his daughter at the altar on her wedding day; it's an act of fatherly love and joy that he'll never experience, not after what he's done hours before. Frank knows it too; just look at his face. A fucking masterpiece from our greatest filmmaker.
2. “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” (dir. Quentin Tarantino) Speaking of masterpieces: “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is Quentin Tarantino’s best movie in 20 years and his most introspective ever; cinema’s former enfant terrible has finally grown up. “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” grapples with what happens when masculinity runs its course and when one generation loses prominence to the next. But it’s also just super hilarious — filled with moments that are best described as lol. This is the best performance Leonardo DiCaprio has ever given. It’s a remarkable tight-rope walk: he's an actor playing a slightly worse actor who himself is giving a performance and then having to also give another performance as the actor he's playing? As his sidekick-slash-lifemate, Brad Pitt is so effortless that it's almost redundant to praise him. And while there are other delights to enjoy among the cast (Margaret Qualley, Julia “tha God” Butters), let’s highlight Margot Robbie: She finds such warmth and grace within Sharon Tate that it's hard not to leave the film feeling a tremendous amount of sadness and regret. "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood" might rewrite her history, but the real world did not. Unfortunately, this legend was never printed. But at least it exists in the movies.
1. “Uncut Gems” (dirs. Josh Safdie, Benny Safdie) What if the last 30 minutes of "Goodfellas" was actually 120 minutes and starred an all-time Adam Sandler, Mike Francesa, and Kevin Garnett, and prominently featured Billy Joel's "The Stranger"? The Safdie Brothers wrote and directed my fever dreams and it resulted in the best movie of 2019, 2018, 2017. This is a landmark; why bother writing anything else?
Some Thoughts on ‘The Rise of Skywalker’
The biggest theme to emerge from "Star Wars: The Last Jedi" was given voice by the film's villain: "Let the past die, kill it if you have to." Rian Johnson's amazing film did that almost literally at every turn: Luke died, Luke's lightsaber exploded, Snoke was cut in half, Kylo Ren's mask broke. But one piece of the past was left hanging, still breathing: the emotional trauma Rey felt because her parents abandoned her as a child.
"Star Wars" as a franchise doesn't really take its moral cues from the villains, even one as charismatic and conflicted as Kylo -- so I've always wondered how much of his mantra the audience was meant to take seriously. But despite a lot of creaky fan service, "Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker" does make good on his promise. The past dies throughout J.J. Abrams' polarizing series finale -- again, often literally. Leia dies this time and so does the reconstituted Emperor; the Sith army is destroyed; Luke and Leia's lightsabers are buried underground; Kylo Ren is killed and then Ben Solo martyrs himself. The misdirects are about the past dying, too: C-3PO and Chewbacca are ostensibly killed before coming back to life. Even the final, contentious scene, where Rey chooses to call herself "Skywalker," is a variation on this theme: Rey's personal past as a Palpatine is dead, she's now choosing to move into the future as someone else. To paraphrase Yoda's comment to Luke in "The Last Jedi": The past informs the present but it's also what these films will move beyond.
It's a good message and firm place to leave the franchise -- if only the journey there wasn't so clunky. Modern blockbusters are often made by committee, on the razor's edge of falling into oblivion. With "Star Wars: The Force Awakens," Abrams was able to toe that line with aplomb; with "Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker," he's less successful throughout. It was a tough assignment anyway: Abrams was dealt a difficult hand with both the events of "The Last Jedi" and Carrie Fisher's real-life death boxing the franchise into a bit of a corner. (Fisher’s scenes are particularly weightless -- deleted fragments and body doubles -- yet Leia needs to play a major part in the story. Unfortunately for all, it doesn’t work.) But the resolutions and story patches he and co-writer Chris Terrio (along with, I can only assume, an army of Lucasfilm's top brass) construct often play like first drafts. Why is the Emperor back and alive? How did Luke's lightsaber get fixed? What happened to Rose? Does Leia have anything to do? These are questions the film doesn't really have a good answer for, so it just plows ahead at lightspeed without giving it a second thought or relegates the reason to supplemental material. (Funny story: Luke’s lightsaber being rebuilt is referenced in the visual dictionary that was released alongside the film.)
That makes for a frustrating if often very entertaining watch: the first act flies with abandon and it's maybe the most nakedly propulsive part of the entire franchise reboot. (Oscar Isaac absolutely owns this movie, playing the Harrison Ford-type better than anyone in Hollywood since Ford; sorry, Chris Pratt!) The way the film deals with Reylo -- Rey and Kylo for non-stans -- is also really compelling stuff, made even stronger by both Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver. Each actor is forced to shoulder some heavy exposition and whiplash emotions, but they ground the material in a way that works better than it should. These are the two best performances in a "Star Wars" movie, full stop.
But when "The Rise of Skywalker" trods into the third act and its deep revelations about Rey, Ben Solo, the Sith, and the Jedi, it just gets lost in the murk. Months before the film's release, a boatload of major spoilers wound up on Reddit; perhaps they were taken verbatim from the script. Because that's how so much of the ending plays out: like a Wiki plot summary of "things that happen." It's silly in a way "Star Wars" actually never felt. At best, it comes across like a "Harry Potter" rip-off; at worst, it's just excessively bad.
Which is a shame because that's how "The Rise of Skywalker" ends the "Skywalker Saga." Or maybe that's how it should be anyway? Let the past die, kill it if you have to. Abrams' film effectively does that for "Star Wars." I'll keep looking toward the suns to see what comes next.
Some Thoughts on Elimination Day
The New York Mets have won more league pennants in the last decade than the New York Yankees, an irrefutable fact terrible Yankees fans will discount upon reading it in black-and-white. We can let them: Since defeating the Mets in the 2000 World Series, the Yankees have won one championship title. This isn't a small sample size and yes, there are a lot of teams -- including the Mets -- who would love to have just one World Series win in 19 years. But it speaks to the futility of what historically has been considered baseball's most successful franchise. The Yankees haven’t only become just another team -- of note: The Kansas City Royals have won more World Series titles in the last 10 years than the Bronx Bombers -- they're also the poster boys for being unable to win when it counts. This group makes the '90s Atlanta Braves look like Joe Torre dynasty.
This year’s version of Elimination Day came on Saturday night when Aroldis Chapman gave up a walk-off, series-winning home run to Jose Altuve to put the Houston Astros into the World Series for the second time in three years. It was a crushing blow, especially since just moments beforehand, Astros closer Roberto Osuna coughed up a two-lead by allowing DJ LeMahieu to smash a two-run home run of his own. In the past, that jolt would have been enough for the Yankees to win: a clutch hit and their own history of championships looming in the background, just waiting to pounce when the other team messed up. Not anymore.
I could sit here and write how this Yankees team was mostly a joke in 2019: they won 103 games in a league where the Twins, who started a career minor league in a must-win playoff game, won 101 (a thought: 100 wins are maybe not what it used to be). Yankees media ran with the narrative that this group overcame numerous injuries which allowed unexpected stars to step up. But it wasn't black magic that forced so many Yankees stars to break down; it was the players themselves, many of whom Brian Cashman should have known better than to rely on for the long haul. (Imagine being the idiot who gave Giancarlo Stanton a long-term contract after his best season ever?) Even Aaron Judge, who is impossible to dislike, now has a history with injuries that can't be ignored: he’s missed significant parts of the last two seasons. This roster, the Cashman Yankees, is not built for the playoffs -- it's built to win 103 games and hit some home runs and go quietly into the night without a title.
But why bother dunking on them? Here’s how far the Yankees have fallen: When Chapman choked and the Yankees walked off the field and into the coming winter as losers once again, I was long asleep. Even me, a true-blue Yankees hater who muted too many Yankees fans to count on Twitter this week because they are all unbearrrrrrrrrable, didn't care enough to stay awake to watch them lose. It felt like a forgone conclusion. The Yankees are soft now. Mystique and aura have long retired from the nightclub. Better luck next year.
Let's Rank All The Marvel Movies
Come back for periodic updates…
23. “The Incredible Hulk”
22. “Thor”
21. “Doctor Strange”
20. “Captain Marvel”
19. “Thor: The Dark World”
18. “Marvel’s Avengers: Age of Ultron”
17. “Captain America: Civil War”
16. “Thor: Ragnarok”
15. “Ant-Man”
14. “Ant-Man and the Wasp”
13. “Captain America: The First Avenger”
12. “Captain America: The Winter Soldier”
11. “Marvel’s The Avengers”
10. “Iron Man 2”
9. “Spider-Man: Far From Home”
8. “Iron Man”
7. “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2″
6. “Avengers: Endgame”
5. “Avengers: Infinity War”
4. “Spider-Man: Homecoming”
3. “Guardians of the Galaxy”
2. “Iron Man 3″
1. “Black Panther”
Some Thoughts On The Best Movies Of 2018
Honorable Mentions: “Aquaman” (dir. James Wan), “Avengers: Infinity War” (dirs. Anthony and Joe Russo), “BlacKkKlansman” (dir. Spike Lee), “Blockers” (dir. Kay Cannon), “Eighth Grade” (dir. Bo Burnham), “First Reformed” (dir. Paul Schrader), “Isle of Dogs” (dir. Wes Anderson), “Mary Poppins Returns” (dir. Rob Marshall), “mid90s” (dir. Jonah Hill), “Ocean’s Eight” (dir. Gary Ross), “On the Basis of Sex” (dir. Mimi Leder), “A Quiet Place” (dir. John Krasinski), “Roma” (dir. Alfonso Cuarón), “A Simple Favor” (dir. Paul Feig), “Venom” (dir. Ruben Fleischer)
10. “Vice” (dir. Adam McKay) A thing about “Vice” is Shea Whigham (49) plays Amy Adams’ (44) dad and Christian Bale’s (44) father-in-law — and the movie makes no attempt to hide the fact that they all look the same. It's a weird and imperfect film, but I'm oddly drawn to it -- despite the fact that many of the negative things people have said about this movie are very true. Perhaps that's why I keep coming back to Boots Riley's tweet-review: "Adam McKay makes movies that get me mad because he does several things that I wish I did first. In 'Vice,' he doesn't just break the 4th wall -- he breaks it and comes and sits in the seat next to you with popcorn and hot sauce. I don't think he makes film, he makes theater." There is something transfixing about "Vice." It's a trainwreck, a complete blank-check movie, the work of an auteur who was not told "no" once during the process. So this thing rattles off the rails early and often and features performances and tones so wildly divergent that it feels like something entirely different than regular movies. But put it this way: I'd rather watch a movie like “Vice” than “good” movies like “First Man.” McKay goes for it here in a way that seems reckless and irresponsible -- as if he'll never get the chance to make another movie so why not throw every idea he's ever had at the screen. There's something laudable to that kind of ego and arrogance. “Vice” condemns everyone, including the audience. After what we’ve done, it’s the movie we deserve.
9. “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before” (dir. Susan Johnson) Did everyone who bought high on “Set It Up” watch “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” and feel slightly awkward? A winning coming-of-age romcom that should stand proudly next to “10 Things I Hate About You” on the list of awesome teen movies that people watch forever.
8. “If Beale Street Could Talk” (dir. Barry Jenkins) If there was a better scene this year than Brian Tyree Henry’s section of Barry Jenkins’ lush, wondrous, absolutely stunning “Moonlight” follow-up, "If Beale Street Could Talk,” I didn’t get around to seeing it.
7. “The Ballad of Buster Scruggs” (dirs. Ethan and Joel Coen) The James Franco section feels incomplete and hurried — why wasn’t it axed completely after Franco’s sexual misconduct allegations? — and the Liam Neeson section is dark and slow. But the other four parts? Instant, rewatchable classics, some of the best things the Coen brothers have ever done. My fave at the moment is the Tom Waits one, but the Zoe Kazan segment is also not without its pleasures. For a movie exclusively about death and dying and the relative fleeting nature of life, “Buster Scruggs” is a delight. It’s an exception to the premise of the film: how could life be meaningless when this exists?
6. “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse” (dirs. Peter Ramsey, Robert Persichetti Jr., Rodney Rothman) As we've gotten further away from 2018, it feels like few movies from that calendar year will stand the cultural test of time. In five years, will people still talk about even the year's best gems, "The Favourite" and "Widows"? Maybe? At this rate, "A Star Is Born" will live in infamy, an Oscar front-runner that was basically shut out in the final calculus; even a film like "Roma," a wonderful movie that deserves its many awards, feels somewhat diffuse. Alfonso Cuarón's intimate epic has barely made a dent now, at a time when even the worst Netflix movie becomes meme fodder for weeks on end. All of which is to say, if one movie from last year winds up being *the* movie from last year, allow me to submit for consideration "Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse." Its message is more powerful than the pablum of "Green Book" and it just seems so damn modern? Transformative? There's a reason "Spider-Verse" caught the attention of the zeitgeist. It's a now movie -- a dazzling, scattered, boisterous affair that's super funny and legitimately sweet. I slept on a lot of this the first time I saw "Spider-Verse" (literally, being a parent is tough sometimes!), but with clear eyes and full hearts, I watched it again and fell super in love. Time to re-do the 2018 top-10 list.
5. “Widows” (dir. Steve McQueen) How would “Heat” look if it were all about systemic white supremacy? A lot like “Widows,” apparently. What a blast of pulp fiction, with a stacked cast just knocking the crackling dialogue out of the park at every turn. Viola Davis was the headline story here, putting in a complex turn that feels comparable to Robert De Niro in “Ronin.” But the real star is Daniel Kaluuya, who delivers the best villain performance since Javier Bardem’s Anton Chigurh. Build a statue for him in lieu of his guaranteed Oscar snub.
4. Black Panther (dir. Ryan Coogler) Marvel's own version of “The Dark Knight,” “Black Panther” is the best MCU movie yet, a legitimate epic in league Christopher Nolan’s superhero classic but with a central conflict that feels like an extension of “Do the Right Thing.” Months later, Michael B. Jordan’s towering performance still rules: he’s every bit as impressive as Heath Ledger was as the Joker.
3. “A Star Is Born” (dir. Bradley Cooper) The closest thing to "Hamilton" released this year, Bradley Cooper's meme factory focuses on who lives, who dies, who tells their story. There’s a lot of Lin-Manuel Miranda's musical in “A Star Is Born" and the film is structured as such, up to a literal heart-clutch final moment that makes me cry just thinking about it (and rivals Eliza’s last gasp in “Hamilton”). Enough has been written about "A Star Is Born" that more isn't necessary, but let's just pause here to praise Cooper, the Actor, for a performance so great that it's easy to take him for granted.
2. “Mission: Impossible - Fallout” (dir. Christopher McQuarrie) What if “The Dark Knight” but Tom Cruise? What if “Skyfall” but “Mission Impossible”? That’s “Fallout,” the best action movie since “Mad Max: Fury Road” and the best blockbuster in a great year for blockbusters. To use overdone online parlance, this movie fucks. From the jump too, with a prologue that combines elements of the first “Mission: Impossible” with a hilarious cameo and the Wikipedia entry to “Rogue Nation” to set the tone for what’s to come. “Fallout” is a masterpiece of action cinema – to wit: the second act is basically one giant action sequence segmented into separate movements – and a tightly wound spy game that does just enough with Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt and his IMF team (Rebecca Ferguson remains a highlight) to make the characters worth caring about. A relentless, special movie – the best Cruise has done since “Edge of Tomorrow” – “Fallout” feels like the end of this beloved franchise. And why not? How do you top perfection? Why would you even bother to try?
1. “The Favourite” (dir. Yorgos Lanthimos) The funniest movie of the year, “Mean Girls” in corsets with Rachel Weisz absolutely effing owning in the Regina George role, “The Favourite” is maybe the only perfect movie of 2018. Weisz, Emma Stone, and Olivia Colman are all incredible, a trio of co-leads in the tradition of “Goodfellas,” “Zodiac,” or “The Social Network.” Yorgos Lanthimos’ film belongs in the same zip code as those classics from a quality standpoint as well, with a sharp-edged script that powers the proceedings to its downbeat, darkly comic conclusion. And while this is a movie all about those aforementioned women, don’t sleep on at least one man: Nicholas Hoult, who hams it up with an abandon reserved for Ryan Phillippe in “Cruel Intentions.” A true classic.
Some Thoughts On Elimination Day
“Feels like a Yankee October,” tweeted Mike Francesa at Bill Simmons after the Yankees unimpressive Wild Card win at home against the Oakland A’s last week. It wasn't so much a dog whistle for reformed Yankees haters but a blaring horn of Rohan. The arrogance, the bluster. How dare?
Mike's tweet came on the heels of Yankees fans closing out that mediocre Wild Card win -- which saw Luis Severino pitch four-plus innings, walking four batters, yet get praised for his clutch performance by Yankees beat writers who should know better -- by chanting, "We want Boston." They got them: The Red Sox smoked the Yankees in the ALDS, winning the best of five series three games to one, with the final two victories -- including the most embarrassing loss in Yankees postseason history -- happening in the Bronx. To quote the great Dave Chappelle: Fuck your couch, Yankees fans. Fuck it right up.
This was the 16th Elimination Day in 17 years -- for college freshman, the Yankees are like the '90s Atlanta Braves, all bark, no clutch -- but it felt like a classic from the early '00s. The hate was strong over the last week, with a majority of Yankees fans -- many of whom spent the last few seasons licking their wounds and rooting for a fun, scrappy team of youngsters becoming all-star players -- showing their true colors. I've often compared rooting for the Yankees to being Republican, and I think that was ever apparent in the 2018 postseason. Even when fans are Jeff Flakeian in their pleas to be mannered, to consider the party, to do the "right thing," they're still rooting for the Yankees. It's a fundamental flaw in the system: Yankees fans, even those I call friends and love dearly, aren't humble about being Yankees fans; they're just waiting for another opportunity to gloat, to be proven superior. They're Mike Francesa grinning, adjusting the mic.
Even the team fell into the trap of the extremists: After a winning Game 2 in Boston on Saturday night, Aaron Judge played "Theme from New York, New York" in the clubhouse, a minor offense if it were any other rivalry. When the Red Sox desecrated the Yankees visiting locker room for the second time in a month (after winning the AL East in New York earlier in September), the team enjoyed a Frank Sinatra singalong.
Prior to that Wild Card game, it wasn't my intention to psychoanalyze Yankees fans. This is a team that went 38-29 after the All-Star break, that was 15-12 in September. They were good, not great. The Yankees won 100 games in a terrible American League East that also saw the Rays will 90 games. (Five AL teams lost 95 or more games in 2018; 100 wins aren't what it used to be.) The Yankees were a worthy Wild Card team, built for the regular season: they hit a record amount of home runs, had a solid bullpen buoyed by big names, and rolled out a rotation that was soft in the middle. When Severino hit the skids after the All-Star break and never recovered -- he looked as bad as he did in 2016 when he was sent to the minors -- it was clear the Yankees were in trouble from a postseason standpoint. Not even a relatively weak Boston team -- talk about a poor bullpen and starting rotation -- could be dispatched by this Yankees roster. Without the benefit of the home run, the Yankees offense all but disappeared. When the Red Sox figured out a way to keep Aaron Judge in check after Game 2, it was good night the lights.
So: Elimination Day. And a brutal one at that. After Craig Kimbrel danced through the raindrops and held on for dear life at the end of Game 4, I quietly fist-pumped. Then I rolled over and drifted off to sleep thinking about those poor Yankees fans waiting in the heavy fall air for a D train I hoped would never come. Mike was right, it does feel like a Yankee October.
Yes, Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis) has a sibling, but his desire for stability and control is pure “only child.”
If only it had come out in 2000!
Make The Oscars Great Again
"I meet these people they call them ‘the elite.’ These people. I look at them, I say, ‘That’s elite?’ We got more money, we got more brains, we got better houses, apartments, we got nicer boats, we’re smarter than they are, and they say they’re elite? We’re the elite. You’re the elite. We’re the elite," our embarrassing president said last month while speaking a crowd of devout followers in land-locked North Dakota. "So I said the other day, let’s keep calling these people -- and let’s face it, they’ve been stone-cold losers, the elite, the elite -- so let them keep calling themselves the elite. But we’re going to call ourselves -- and remember you are indeed, you work harder, but you are indeed smarter than them -- let’s call ourselves from now on the super-elite. We’re the super-elite.” We live in stupid times, but that rant struck me as particularly stupid -- an example of what happens when someone looks at exceptionalism not with pride, but utter disdain. Little did I know, a month later, that same line of thinking would find a platform with the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences. For the third time in a decade, the venerable institution has made drastic rule changes, announcing Wednesday that it will attack its failing television ratings with a three-pronged approach:
-The ceremony will now take place on Feb. 9, 2019, rather than at the end of February, to keep awards season from being (more) interminable -The broadcast will be capped at three hours, with some of the lesser categories being relegated to commercial breaks and in-telecast montages, a page pulled from the Tonys' playbook. -The AMPAS will add a "new category for outstanding achievement in popular film," in an effort to recognize... popular films.
It's that last one that got everyone outraged. With pressure from ABC to slow the tide of sinking ratings, the Academy blinked in an effort to get "blockbusters" involved in the televised ceremony, devaluing both quality blockbusters and the Oscars itself in the process. It's the kind of shortsighted decision that happens to desperate media companies in 2018 as they rob Peter to pay Paul. By highlighting "popular film," the Oscars are, in essence, saying that its roster of best picture winners and nominees over the last 90 years have been "unpopular" -- sorry hit films, "Schindler's List," "The Godfather," "Titanic," and recent winners "Moonlight," "Spotlight," and "The Shape of Water." It also suggests that the AMPAS doesn’t trust its many new members and thinks not just that they might, gasp, vote for "popular films,” but that those popular films (like presumed best picture contender "Black Panther") aren’t necessarily worthy of traditional honors. "So let them keep calling themselves the elite. But we’re going to call ourselves -- and remember you are indeed, you work harder, but you are indeed smarter than them -- let’s call ourselves from now on the super-elite. We’re the super-elite.” Writing for Polygon, Matt Patches recalled when "The Mummy" director Alex Kurtzman helped coin the notion of "for the fans" as a battle cry and dog whistle. "We made a film for audiences and not critics so my great hope is they will find it and they will appreciate it,” Kurtzman said at the time, as his terrible movie was being called terrible with anyone possessing eyes -- i.e., critics. Added Matt: "The quote stuck with me — really, which fans were Kurtzman talking about? Fans of the nascent Dark Universe? Fans of 1932’s 'The Mummy,' which he had transformed into a Tom Cruise stunt vehicle? I knew then and now that Kurtzman’s line in the sand wasn’t intended to make sense, but to rally an incensed crowd around his movie, in a similar way to how certain politicians ignite anyone with an ax to grind, regardless of cause. 'Fans' were the real audience. 'Critics' were undermining their entertainment. If 'critics' liked something, it probably wasn’t for 'fans.' 'The Mummy' was not going to win an Oscar because it was never meant to win an Oscar. "Outstanding Achievement in Popular Film is the next step in walling off the entertainment industry from critical thought. The new category panders to a straw man audience who might tune in to the Oscars if they see their movie finally represented. But the same way that the Academy deepened an artistic fissure between 'quality film' and stories told in the animated medium when it established the Best Animated Film Oscar, so too does the Popular Film award divide and expel worthy candidates from earning the recognition they all deserve." The notion of walling off critical thought struck me. Critical thought is dying. Facts don't matter. Quality is dumb. Smart people deserve wedgies. O'Doyle rules! The Oscars could have evolved by embracing its recent changes -- including more elite artists into the fold, honoring quality previously ignored, and understanding a passionate, devoted audience is better than scale. Instead, it did this. I hope the fans love the result.
Let’s Rank All the Wes Anderson Movies
9. “The Darjeeling Limited”
8. “Isle of Dogs”
7. “Bottle Rocket”
6. “Fantastic Mr. Fox”
5. “Moonrise Kingdom”
4. “The Grand Budapest Hotel”
3. “Rushmore”
2. “The Life Aquatic”
1. “The Royal Tenenbaums”
Some Thoughts on ‘The Godfather’
We watched a lot of movies during my freshman year of college -- mostly on VHS, notably "Goodfellas," to the point where we composed a quiz of "trivia" questions to see who had truly absorbed the movie over the course of a hundred viewings. (Sample questions: What was the weather like in 1955, when young Henry Hill watches Tuddy and the local mafioso from his bedroom window?* What is the license plate number on Johnny Roastbeef's pink Cadillac?**) The first movie I remember seeing in the theater as a group was Walter Hill's "Last Man Standing" with Bruce Willis. It came out in September 1996, a few weeks after we started school and became best friends for life. It was pretty bad. Other movies we saw together at the tail end of 1996: "Sleepers," "Ransom," and the Sylvester Stallone classic "Daylight." They were bad too.
Some of the movies didn't get much better in the first quarter of 1997, but we saw more of them: "Albino Alligator," the directorial debut of disgraced actor Kevin Spacey (does anyone remember this movie exists?); "Meet Wally Sparks" with Rodney Dangerfield (who personally attended our showing at Lincoln Square to introduce this bomb, forever known to us as "Beat Wally Sparks" because of the "Joe Pesci Show" sketch on "SNL"; that one also featured Kevin Spacey, smdh); and "The Godfather."
Back in March 1997, Paramount re-released "The Godfather" to celebrate the film's 25th anniversary. There was even a cool poster that I had hanging in my bedroom at home featuring headshots of the cast (still puzzling: John Marley made the cut over Talia Shire; Richard Conte over Abe Vigoda). The fun part for us was a chance to see "The Godfather" on the big screen -- or the biggest screen as it were: the Astor Plaza theater in Times Square.
It closed in 2004, long after we had stopped going to the movies regularly as a group. According to the New York Times, the theater held 1,440 people, making it the biggest single-screen movie house in the city. I couldn't tell you much about it now, save for the sound system: bellowing, aggressive, and once-in-a-lifetime. To this day, the loudest noise I've ever heard in a movie theater is the car bomb explosion that killed Apollonia.
"The Godfather" is on Netflix now, so fancy theatrical re-releases aren't as necessary. I watched all three films in the series last week over the course of a few days while holding Luna on my chest for some skin-to-skin time. The first two films are as perfect as you remember, but I was surprised to find myself feeling like the original held up slightly better than the much-ballyhooed "Part II" (if only because it's hard to compete with Brando, Caan, Pacino, Duvall, Cazale, Castellano, Vigoda, Keaton, and Shire when they're firing on all cylinders).
A funny thing about "Part III": It's actually better than you remember -- and worse too. Sofia Coppola's performance is so bad it almost feels like performance art. How did this get past her Oscar-winning director father and his Oscar-winning editor? (As pop culture reconciles with how sexism played a large role in shaping the narratives of '90s women like Marcia Clark, Tonya Harding, and Monica Lewinsky, perhaps it's time to reevaluate Coppola's acting. She was hung out to dry in a really bad way and left to absorb so much criticism for a film that doesn't quite work and that her father basically admitted he mostly did for money.)
"The Godfather Part III" is a dark, bummer of a movie. That's true of the whole franchise, of course ("Part II" is a great tragedy on the level of Shakespeare), but it comes to particular light in the final installment. Coppola apparently wanted to call the film "The Death of Michael Corleone," and, hey, why not? Here is a man who was destined for greatness -- Senator Corleone, Governor Corleone -- and who acquired wealth known to few not named Rockefeller. But by the time "Part III" starts, he's never been more alone, more miserable: Sonny was murdered, he had Fredo killed, Kay hates him, Tom is dead (Robert Duvall, the unheralded MVP of the first two films, was famously lowballed on his salary offer to return for "Part III" and declined to participate; they axed him off-screen and added George Hamilton as the family lawyer :upside-down face:). All that's left is Al Neri and regret. "The Godfather Part III" includes a lot of meandering, murky plot points -- chief among them Michael's involvement with the Vatican bank, an hour's worth of plot which can be summed up with this five-second video of Unikitty -- but the core of the film is anchored on the notion that no bad deed goes unpunished, no matter how many donations to the Church one can afford.
There's a bit of "Hamilton" in "The Godfather Part III" too: "Legacy. What is a legacy? It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see." Throughout the franchise, the Corleones are obsessed with their legacy -- and as "Part III" winds down toward its conclusion, that's about all Michael can think about. He wants to legitimize the family business, he wants to be remembered as a loving father and husband. But decades of his behavior show otherwise. Michael is Don Popeye, he is what he is. After the death of Don Tommasino (who appears in all three films as a sympathetic friend to Michael and his family and then gets cruelly shot to death because of Michael as a 90-year-old man), Michael swears on the life of his children to clean up his act, to live a life worthy of life. Less than 30 minutes later, his daughter is dead. God came down to settle all family business once and for all.
* It's not raining, but there's a lightning strike in the distance ** 254-YIP
Some Thoughts on ‘Phantom Thread,’ Oscar Nominee
When I was a kid, from a pretty early age at least as far as I can remember, I used to watch the Oscar nominations with my mom on channel 7. I never saw the movies, but it didn’t matter. It worked on me like sports talk radio worked then and still does now: someone was robbed, someone didn’t deserve to be nominated. This spoke to me.
In college, I used to wake up “early” to watch the nominations and only now realize what a luxury it is to think 8:30 a.m. on a weekday is early. I rarely saw the movies — at least not the movies nominated for Oscars (but FYC “Armageddon” in all categories).
Over the last decade, the fun I knew of watching the Oscar nominations with my mom or while my college roommates slept has been replaced by stress. When it’s your job to cover the Oscars as breaking news, the nominations are work. But I had a reprieve this year in the form of a five-day-old baby. She watched the nominations in my hand, asleep. I had seen all of the movies. It was the best.
The nominations were pretty great too. In years past, a best picture lineup that included just one movie like "Get Out," "Lady Bird," or "The Shape of Water" would have been a boon for movie lovers. This year, those are the favorites to win best picture, along with current outrage magnet "Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri," a complicated masterpiece that calls a tricky gray area its home turf. (Win or lose, "Three Billboards" has the distinction of joining fellow all-time movies "The Wolf of Wall Street," "Gone Girl," and, somehow, "La La Land" in think piece Hall of Fame.) 2017 was a banner year for movies on the big screen and perhaps shockingly that is reflected in the nominations.
There were snubs, of course. Would it have been nice to see Tom Hanks, Holly Hunter, Sebastian Stan, Jessica Chastain, and Vicky Krieps stand among the nominees? Sure. But outside of Denzel Washington getting a nod for "Roman J. Israel, Esq." — a good, unexpected performance from one of Hollywood's greatest-ever actors in a bad, barely seen movie — none of this year's omissions felt egregious. When "Phantom Thread" gets cited for best picture, best director, best actor, best supporting actress, best costume design, and best score for Johnny Greenwood (his first ever), how can these nominations be a problem?
Let's pause here for a brief word on "Phantom Thread," which was the last movie we saw in theaters before Luna was born and is perhaps the best movie ever made about the routines of only children. That might sound odd: Daniel Day-Lewis' Reynolds Woodcock isn't an only child by birth, his old so-and-so sibling is Cyril (a withering, confident, and altogether deserving Oscar nominee in Lesley Manville) and she's a major part of his life. But speaking from experience, this dude is an only child -- or a "confirmed bachelor" in the movie's terminology. His pursuit of the opposite sex is minimal compared to his desire for stability and control. "I cannot start my day with a confrontation. I simply have no time for confrontations," Reynolds says in his first scene, after a future ex-muse dares to suggest a change in his breakfast.
Like an only child, Reynolds values his solitude, his perfectly engineered existence. (He lives in the "House of Woodcock," as if it weren't clear enough.) He has had companions, but never partners. It's not even that Reynolds is self-centered as much as oblivious. He only thinks of himself and is insulted when people dare to expect him to do otherwise and don't appreciate the sacrifice. Take the famed asparagus scene, where Alma (Krieps, as good as last year's best) prepares Reynolds a meal he didn't ask for with ingredients he doesn't like: "I'm admiring my own gallantry for eating it the way you prepared it."
In this reading of "Phantom Thread," routine does always win -- it's just that Reynolds' routine gets upended and rearranged by Alma into something new. She pressures Reynolds to change and then poisons him in an attempt to wrest control from his daily regime. He fights, angrily, against her challenges. She wins. He loves it and wants more. The film ends with her poisoning him again. Later, they'll become parents.
As a new father, Luna isn't feeding me toxic mushrooms, but there's something to say about a finicky adult being completely unmoored from his routine and actually reveling in the upheaval. On Tuesday morning, before the Oscar nominations, Luna sprayed pee all over me at 4 a.m. She did it again two more times after that. I loved it all.
Some Thoughts on the 2017 Oscars, One Year Later
Truthfully, it was off from the start. Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway had the chemistry of Donald and Melania and the scripted patter was mostly hollow ("I think it could be said that our goal in politics is the same as our goal in art -- that is, to get to the truth"). It was nearing midnight on the East Coast, so everyone was kind of over it anyway. I was going to publish our best picture winner pre-write -- it was either "Moonlight" or "La La Land" so the rest of the nominees were deleted, stuffed into the trash bin alongside entries from years' past, like "American Sniper" and "Bridge of Spies."
Then this:
It's remarkable to watch now, knowing what happened. Beatty, aging Hollywood royalty, knew the envelope was wrong -- he even looked inside again, hoping against hope the best picture winner was perhaps hiding in there. But he never said anything and Dunaway, who was gritting her teeth through the whole thing anyway, seemed to assume he was hogging the spotlight, doing a bit. "You're impossible," she said, forcing a laugh. Beatty stammered, waiting for someone -- anyone -- to save him. They didn't. He showed Dunaway the card, and she read "La La Land." Beatty smiled with a hollow grin. He knew the worst was yet to come.
#
I knew something was wrong about the same time everyone else did: when the stage manager bolted behind the "La La Land" winners. I remember thinking, "Hmm. That's really odd. Maybe 'La La Land' didn't win?" And then it didn't. Chaos ensued. I hadn't published the best picture post yet because I was waiting to get a better quote from the speech -- maybe something sharper, more clicky for the headline than "'La La Land' dominates Oscars, wins best picture." I feverishly rewrote the entry:
"In the most shocking mix-up in Oscars history, 'Moonlight' won best picture at the Academy Awards — but only after presenter Faye Dunaway announced 'La La Land' as the winner, setting off mass confusion inside the Dolby Theatre in Los Angeles."
In the minutes, hours, and days that followed, the best picture fiasco was the biggest story in entertainment. Hundreds of articles were written -- explainers, SEO grabs, listicles, hot takes, hot takes about the hot takes. Ten months later, I still find myself thinking about this moment. It was, without question, the most remarkable live-television event I saw in 2017, maybe ever.
A note here: The notion of "live" has gotten less relevant thanks to the ascendancy of streaming services and binge-watching. Outside of sporting events and news tragedies, people rarely watch things together -- and even "live" events, like "SNL" or late-night talk shows, aren't really live. They're scripted or "live" in quotes. There's no spontaneity anymore. We know what's going to happen, we watch it happen. Even the Oscars aren't unknown. By the time the ceremony starts each year, precursors have taken the surprise out of the race -- the people who everyone thinks will win, usually win.
Which is why the best picture fiasco was just so incredible. It was a live-television moment without precedent and the result was a giant shock. "Moonlight" beating "La La Land" is the biggest upset in Oscars history. "Moonlight" beating "La La Land" after "La La Land" was announced as the winner is near insanity.
#
But there was another reason I found the mix-up so compelling, so wonderful: Everyone involved seemed to like each other. "La La Land" producer Jordan Horowitz handled the win-loss with grace. "Moonlight" director Barry Jenkins handled the loss-win with gratitude and enthusiasm. "Moonlight" producer Adele Romanski made special mention of Team "La La Land" in her speech (they had already left the stage, as did Dunaway, who vanished into thin air like a ghost). This wasn't a competition so much as a board game between friends -- someone won, but no one felt like a loser. I've become cynical about awards season -- it too often feels as divisive, antagonistic, and ugly as a presidential campaign -- but the end of the 89th annual Academy Awards melted my icy exterior. What if no one cared about these results and just honored the films? Much has already been written about how this year's awards race lacks a true front-runner, with "Lady Bird," "Get Out," "Dunkirk," "Call Me By Your Name," and "The Post," among others, all marked as possible winners. Could that be the result of this year's ceremony? Movies, now more than ever?
Honestly, it's unlikely. But for this brief moment, it felt like maybe.
Some Thoughts On The Best Movies of 2017
Honorable mentions: "Alien: Covenant” (dir. Ridley Scott), “Battle of the Sexes" (dirs. Jonathan Dayton, Valerie Faris), "The Big Sick" (dir. Michael Showalter), "Blade Runner 2049" (dir. Denis Villeneuve), "Call Me by Your Name" (dir. Luca Guadagnino), “The Florida Project” (dir. Sean Baker), "Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2" (dir. James Gunn), "It" (dir. Andy Muschietti), "The LEGO Batman Movie" (dir. Chris McKay), "Logan Lucky" (dir. Steven Soderbergh), “The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected)” (dir. Noah Baumbach), "Molly's Game" (dir. Aaron Sorkin), "mother!" (dir. Darren Aronofsky), "Spider-Man: Homecoming" (dir. Jon Watts), "Wonder Woman" (dir. Patty Jenkins)
10. “The Post” (dir. Steven Spielberg) Let's journalism the shit out of awards season. Urgent and restless with a pace that feels Scorsesian, Steven Spielberg's "The Post" is a broad movie about the dangers of living under an authoritarian president that doesn't bother with subtly (and is better for it). Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks are better than they've been in years and the rest of the cast -- television pros, all -- crackle, proving there is no such thing as a small role in a Spielberg joint.
9. “The Disaster Artist” (dir. James Franco) The greatest thing James Franco has ever done, and maybe his best performance too -- give or take an Alien in "Spring Breakers." "The Disaster Artist" is the year's funniest comedy but also something more: there are deeply felt messages here about friendship and failure. Franco is impeccable as "The Room" impresario Tommy Wiseau, a performance art stunt with a genuine heart.
8. “The Shape of Water” (dir. Guillermo del Toro) If I told you about "The Shape of Water" -- the movie where Guillermo del Toro combines "Creature from the Black Lagoon," "Amelie," the magic of Steven Spielberg, the music of Alexandre Desplat on his best day, "Splash," and an episode of "The Twilight Zone" -- what would I say? That it's exceptional, a romantic two-hander between Sally Hawkins and Doug Jones that shouldn't even come close to working and yet does. To borrow from the "Superman" marketing campaign, "The Shape of Water" makes you believe a fish monster can love. Maybe there's hope for the rest of us.
7. “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri” (dir. Martin McDonagh) Good people can do bad things, bad people can do good things, and anger without empathy only leads to more anger and less empathy -- those are just some of the themes tackled by "Three Billboards," a problematic fave that is the best Coen brothers movie they've never directed. This is the cinematic version of "RT does not equal endorsement" that asks tough questions of the audience without providing easy answers (in a way similar to polarizing masterpieces like "Zero Dark Thirty," "The Wolf of Wall Street," and "Gone Girl" before). Naturally, some people hate it. But if nothing else, it's home to the best performances of Frances McDormand and Sam Rockwell's illustrious careers (Woody Harrelson is no slouch either).
6. “Phantom Thread” (dir. Paul Thomas Anderson) There’s a good chance of all the great movies on this list, “Phantom Thread” is the one we’re still talking about in 30 years. This is Paul Thomas Anderson’s “Eyes Wide Shut,” a sly look at relationships and what happens when an immovable object meets an unstoppable force. (According to Anderson, the force always wins.) Daniel Day-Lewis is customarily outstanding here, but, like every great movie, it’s the find who steals the show: Vicky Krieps matches Day-Lewis beat for beat and wins the movie. An all-time classic.
5. “Dunkirk” (dir. Christopher Nolan) It's hard to explain in words, but maybe that's the point: No performance affected me more this year than Tom Hardy's nearly dialogue-free showstopper as a World War II pilot in "Dunkirk." He does more with his eyes, with his actions, than most Oscar contenders do with pages of text. That's the power of Christopher Nolan's movie, which leans heavily into the theme of sacrifice for the common person to create something visceral and beautiful.
4. “Star Wars: The Last Jedi” (dir. Rian Johnson) A movie about the danger that comes when hope is lost and the hope that a better future can arrive courtesy of the next generation, "Star Wars: The Last Jedi" is to "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" what "Vs." is to "Ten" in Pearl Jam's discography. It's richer, bolder, harder, and strays just left of what worked so well the first time around. The result is a tremendous movie, mature in the way it views "Star Wars" nostalgia and smart enough to know its characters are winners across the board -- especially Kylo Ren (legit FYC for Adam Driver), Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill, who rivals Sylvester Stallone in "Creed" in performance), and Rey (give Daisy Ridley all the movies forever).
3. “Get Out” (dir. Jordan Peele) Now that Nazis have been emboldened to come out of the darkness, a scathing takedown of performative wokeness might seem a little dated. Good fortune then that Jordan Peele's "Get Out" is precise in its satire of white privilege and cultural appropriation -- taking those two pervasive realities to an outrageous, hilarious, and uncomfortable conclusion. This one is the very definition of a hoot; prepare to shout at the screen in admiration.
2. “I, Tonya” (dir. Craig Gillespie) What would it look like if Martin Scorsese directed a movie about Tonya Harding? "I, Tonya" provided an answer in 2017, shouting "suck my dick" while listening to Q104.3 with the volume turned way up. Directed by Craig Gillespie, this movie is a wrecking ball -- its frenetic editing is like the third act of "Goodfellas" on more cocaine. Naturally, some people hate it. "I, Tonya" has been dinged for a host of reasons, its tonal shifts first among perceived offenses. But that's what makes the whole thing feel even more authentic. Life is messy and often exists in a tricky grey area. Gillespie never forgets that, while allowing Margot Robbie to shine as Tonya herself; in a year of towering female performances, she absolutely stands tallest.
1. “Lady Bird” (dir. Greta Gerwig) The sweetest movie ever made where a teenager calls a nun the c-word, Greta Gerwig's directorial debut is a stone-cold classic -- funny, smart, thoughtful, and a reinvention of the teen movie for the modern age. Wholly her own thing, but with elements of Cameron Crowe, Wes Anderson, John Hughes, and Noah Baumbach sprinkled lightly throughout, Gerwig proves herself to be an effortless filmmaker; "Lady Bird" comes across like the work of a 10-time director, not a first. The script is first-rate too, as are the performances -- Saoirse Ronan obviously and Laurie Metcalf too, but also Lucas Hedges, Timothée Chalamet, Beanie Feldstein, and Tracy Letts as the world's most resigned dad (I will take pointers from him forever). "Lady Bird" is universal and specific in ways that cross generations and genders -- and Lady Bird is a character we'll remember alongside '80s favorites like Lloyd Dobbler from "Say Anything" and Andie from "Pretty in Pink" for decades to come. This was a great year for movies, but "Lady Bird" was the greatest.
Some thoughts on ‘The Last Jedi’
I've been a "Star Wars" fan as long as I can remember. We saw "Return of the Jedi" in the movie theater when I was 5. I can vividly recall getting a bunch of Hoth toys for Christmas one year. I had the original motion picture soundtrack -- with John Williams leading the London Symphony Orchestra -- on cassette. There were some original trilogy posters framed in our guest room, "the blue room" before it became my bedroom; I don't even know what happened to those, but I'd kill to have them now.
The prequels were ... the prequels. In college, I remember looking at Coming Attractions to find out everything I could about the movies before they came out (what a novelty it was back then to troll for spoilers). I saw "Phantom Menace" four times in the theater, including on opening night with my parents -- the only time I've ever seen a movie with both of them. I remember thinking it was good. It's not, but it's also not that bad. The other ones, those are bad.
After "Revenge of the Sith," "Star Wars" went away. There were no more stories. J.J. Abrams' "Star Trek" was the best facsimile of "Star Wars," anyway. Then Disney bought Lucasfilm, George Lucas disappeared to his own personal Ahch-To, and there were new movies coming soon. Abrams was even hired as the director.
Everything about "The Force Awakens" felt like an event -- the first screening, seeing it on opening night. On our honeymoon, we saw it in Paris -- English, with French subtitles. The movie plays. It's an unapologetic "Star Wars" rip-off that gets everything about "Star Wars" exactly right. It's "for the fans" in that way, right down to the death of Han Solo -- because as any true fan knows, Han Solo should have died in the original movies. It's a total blast and reminded me why I loved "Star Wars" in the first place.
"The Last Jedi" reminded me why I loved "Star Wars" in the first place, too, but did something bigger, smarter, harder: it took all the baggage I owned from years of being a "Star Wars" fan and put it lovingly out on the curb, like those frame original trilogy posters. It's the end of "Star Wars" as we know it -- and really, we should have all guess that just from the title. The Jedi are gone but will be reborn; the Empire is over but will come back stronger. But the characters we loved -- Luke, Han, and Leia -- are all dead, either onscreen or off. Time moves forward without prejudice and new heroes are born every day. That's what "The Last Jedi" preaches to fans holding onto those Hoth toys. Naturally, some die-hards hate it. No one likes to be told they have to grow up.
##
I've been a "Mike and the Mad Dog" listener as long as I can remember. I used to tape their NFL picks segment on Fridays because I loved the NFL Films music that they used as background. I listened to "Mike and the Mad Dog" for literally thousands of hours growing up. There isn't a major sports memory from the 1990s isn't inextricably tied to them in my mind. Everything was an argument with a right answer (usually Mad Dog) and a wrong answer (usually Mike). Fight, fight, fight. "Say something funny, Mike."
I was an adult when Mad Dog left WFAN and the show. I remember watching that final broadcast on the YES network (via DVR) and probably saying something nasty about Mike. I don't really think I ever listened to Mike alone all that much after Mad Dog left, but my mother would always keep me apprised of the crazy nonsense Mike would spout on the regular. I think she just did this to make me mad, push my buttons. I hated Mike like I hated Alex Rodriguez or Donald Trump. But then a funny thing happened: I stopped hating A-Rod and I stopped hating Mike. (I hate Donald Trump even more.) During the last year, even when Mike said something indefensibly stupid, I didn't get super angry. Even now, after six months of a farewell tour that glossed over all his hubris and ego, I didn't hate him. When he signed off on Friday, I felt sad. When I listened to Mad Dog, now on SiriusXM, talk about Mike signing off, I felt even sadder. Mike will work again, but what was once an institution -- as reliable as the mail -- is now over.
##
The official end of "Mike and the Mad Dog" and the conclusion of "The Last Jedi" arrived on the same day, roughly six weeks before I'm going to become a dad. I hazard to say all this stuff means something significant, but it feels like it might. I'll raise my daughter without Mike Francesa on the radio, without Luke Skywalker using the Force. Those things will mean nothing to her, not really, but I'm sure I'll try to teach her about them both someday when I'm even older and she couldn't care less. The last vestige of my childhood has gone away, which is great: it happened just in time to watch as she creates her own. Say something funny, Mike.
Some Thoughts On The Yankees
Elimination Day came for the Yankees on Saturday night, just like it has every season but one for 17 years. Rooting against the Yankees and their continually unbearable fans has been a significant part of my life. I can still remember where I was in 2001 for Tony Womack and Luis Gonzalez. Their 2004 collapse holds a special place in my heart (I can hear Mark Bellhorn’s home run clanging off the foul pole like it was last night). Losses against Cleveland in 2007 and Detroit in 2012 are classics of the Yankees hater genre.
But there wasn’t much joy to take from Saturday night. This Yankees squad is much different from the Joe Torre championship years when the Yankees were the baseball equivalent of Michael Jordan (no team has ever received as many collective breaks as those Yankees). They’re different from the hateful Evil Empire teams that were embodied by fat-cat players like Alex Rodriguez and Mark Teixeira and odious bullies like Joba Chamberlain. The current Yankees are a bunch of kids, castoffs, and veterans just clawing for one last shot. In the mid-2000s, CC Sabathia was emblematic of the Yankees’ push to spend all the money with no regard for the future. On Saturday, he was a veteran nearing the end of the road who kept his team in the game by sheer force of will.
That’s part of the reason I didn’t delight in Elimination Day ‘17. It’s hard to hate these guys even if it’s easy to hate their fans. Aaron Judge is a video game player in the best sense. Gary Sanchez is a beast. The notorious Didi Gregorius stood strong in the shadow of Derek Jeter. Luis Severino is a rich man’s Johnny Cueto. You want to like this team despite the pinstripes.
I didn’t root for the Yankees — I would never; it would be like voting Republican at this point: the forest has been razed — but I didn’t root for the Astros either. Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age. Maybe I realized there are better things to do with myself than troll Yankees fans on social media (and in my real life) when they lose. Or maybe the Yankees have ... changed? Maybe they’re not even the Yankees anymore — at least not how I knew them for 25 years. This team had the energy of the Kansas City Royals, built on the bats of cheap kids.
It would be nice to think this little oasis is permanent. And it might be, at least for another year — until the Yankees sign Bryce Harper in 2019.