Crazy Heart, Dull Story

There’s a strong possibility that Crazy Heart will finally give the accomplished yet underrated Jeff Bridges his first Oscar. I have mixed feelings. On one hand, the fallen country star Bad Blake is tolerable because Bridges can find the humor in a lonely, pathetic situation. What’s more, he effectively balances a deteriorating physical condition with an unwavering talent. But too often the film falls back on shots of Blake’s fat gut or scenes of him weeping over broken whiskey bottles. Some will call them dull; others will call them Oscar moments.

It’s a conventional story: a broken-down drunk rides his broken-down truck through a series of small-venue bars scrounging what little cash (and ass) past fame can afford him. He meets a woman named Jean who’s way too hot for him and he’s off on the road to redemption. That Maggie Gyllenhaal - as the single-mother Jean - is about 30 years younger than Bridges is beside the point. It worked last year in The Wrestler. Marissa Tomei connected with Mickey Rourke as failed parents and through shared experiences as showpieces. It also didn’t hurt that Rourke had a six-pack.

In Crazy Heart, Jean seems to fall in love with Blake due to that undying female instinct to save a man who needs saved. That, or she possesses a crystal ball that shows Blake eventually bonding with her toddler son. Gyllenhaal gives a solid performance, but the script doesn't give her much beyond a role as Blake’s love interest. Nor does it spend enough time on the relationship between Blake and Tommy (Colin Farrell), a headliner who offers his mentor a life raft by commissioning him to write a few songs. We learn that the two had a falling out, but the rift and its speedy resolution lessens the complication.

First-time writer/director Scott Cooper reduces Jean and Tommy to stepping stones for Blake’s road to sobriety. The road offers no alternative destination and plods through several obligatory scenes, and it’s to the actors’ credit that the film remains engaging. Additionally, the original music by T-Bone Burnet and Stephen Bruton is pitch-perfect, never sounding too on the nose, compensating for lags within the story.

I am a big Jeff Bridges fan. The Dude is obviously a cultural staple, but my favorite was his high school football star in The Last Picture Show, an understated portrayal of a guy who loses his sense of masculinity. Such performances are why Bridges has remained underrated despite accruing 4 Oscar nods. He delivers again here, but it’s disappointing to see him possibly nabbing the gold for a weaker film that seems like Oscar bait.

Oh, well. As Martin Scorsese knows, sometimes Oscars are career achievement awards.

Top Ten of the Aughts (Part II)

If I learned anything from making my list, it’s that it's hard to write a short blurb about a favorite movie. These films are my favorites precisely because their appeal can’t be reduced to four sentences. And while I can fill page after page with a film’s qualities, whatever I came up still feels insufficient. Like anything else, a favorite movie will grab me for reasons I’ll never truly understand.

Observing the list, I realize that as much as I can appreciate a good performance or the texture of a shot, I am drawn to good stories. There’s no getting away from it: without a good screenplay, you can’t make a good film. And, man, this decade had some bad movies. But as Hollywood continues to churn out remakes, sequels, and derivative garbage, it becomes clear that now more than ever there is a need for good stories well told.

(For Part I, #’s 10-6)

5. Sideways

Miles is a forty-something failed writer who teaches 8th grade English. He does the New York Times crossword on his steering wheel and casually inserts French into everyday conversation. He’s a wine snob who attends a few too many tastings. Recently divorced, he hesitates in making a move on Maya (Virginia Madsen) because, though interesting and attractive, “she works for tips.” Or is that just an excuse for his lack of confidence?

Though the complex Miles is perfectly observed by the writers and Paul Giamatti, his is a character incapable of advancing a plot; that distinction goes to the childish Jack, in a career performance by Thomas Hayden Church. Miles takes his soon-to-be-married buddy on a tour of California’s wine country, but Jack envisions a less sophisticated sendoff: getting both of them laid.

In doing so, Jack boosts Miles’ credentials, telling Maya that his novel is being published; and, obviously, Jack plays down his upcoming wedding while eying Maya’s friend Stephanie (Sandra Oh). Jack succeeds in his goal…and embarks on a fling that becomes more serious than it should. Miles and Maya tag along to complete the quartet, and as their relationship becomes more intimate, the lies become more and more difficult for Miles to live down.

Wow, the broad strokes of this film would hardly make it seem like a comedy, even though it contains some of the funniest moments I have ever seen. Some are in plot payoffs, like when Jack, who suffered a broken nose through his exploits, crashes Miles’ car into a tree to substantiate another lie. Some are in the interactions between Jack and Miles, and how we suspect Miles has maintained this friendship for the sake of validating a sense of superiority. Some are sight gags, as when Miles breaks into a house to reclaim Jack’s wedding ring and is chased down by a naked beast of a man.

Some people call this film depressing. Understandable. Essentially, it’s a film about characters coming to terms with who they are not, leaving them with less to veil their insecurities. But as they are pathetic at the beginning, at least they aren’t hopeless at the end.

4. The Lives of Others

The film begins with a member of the Stasi, Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe), interrogating a suspected political prisoner. This scene is intercut with him teaching a class on interrogation methods. He uses a recoding of the interrogation, showing how the deprivation of sleep and repetitive questioning can effectively extract information from a prisoner. He stops the tape, adding commentary when necessary. The students write notes, judiciously. He might as well be teaching physiology.

It's rare for a film to have deep political resonance without skewing its argument with didactic heroes and villains. Wiesler is a nationalist with firm socialist ideals, believing in the GDP and the Stasi. As such, he bugs the apartment of playwright Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch) to protect the State. But in learning a committee member is having an affair with Dreyman’s actress girlfriend (she does so to avoid interference with her career), Wiesler realizes Dreyman’s imprisonment would rid the committee member of a rival.

A clear abuse of power, Wiesler’s same uncompromising sense of duty leads him to intervene in ending the affair. But as the intervention becomes more personal, he discovers the beauty in the couple’s relationship and realizes that is worth protecting.

This is a complete film with a meticulously plotted screenplay. Writer/director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck provides authentic settings and gives attention to most minute detail, evoking a neorealist feel not unlike The Battle of the Algiers. All of this is strung together by an incredible performance from Ulrick Mühe, whose actions and mere facial expression rarely deviate from that of a calculating professional. So uncommon are his physical reactions that a simple frown commands the audience’s attention. Mühe allows the context of the story to dictate the emotions; consequently, it isn’t until the last frame when he says, “No, it’s for me,” that he is fully understood.

3. Adaptation.

This needs cleared up: just because a film can discuss screenwriting and Hollywood does NOT make it a good screenwriting resource. For an aspiring writer looking for a clear example, Charlie Kaufman’s non-linear screenplay about Charlie Kaufman writing a screenplay about Charlie Kaufman’s difficult adaptation of Susan Orlean’s The Orchid Thief would hardly provide clarity. If used as a teaching tool, it should be used to exemplify the apex of a craft.

Charlie Kaufman (Nicolas Cage) loves Susan Orlean’s book and embraces the idea of writing the world’s first film about flowers. Just flowers. No sex or drugs or car chases or underdogs overcoming huge obstacles. “The book isn’t like that and life isn’t like that. It just isn’t.”

Then what is life about? While unable to adapt the book, Charlie’s life entails complaining about things he should do, fantasizing about women he should hit on, and criticizing people he should not have to endure. Like his twin brother Donald, who one day declares, “I’m gonna be a screenwriter!” and conceptualizes a completely unfeasible thriller that eventually sells for a million dollars. The Orchid Thief, a beautiful composition without a story, is a validation of Charlie’s life…but it also serves as a mirror for his own shortcomings.

The film intercuts between Charlie’s struggles and Susan Orlean (Meryl Streep). A writer for The New Yorker, Orlean ventures to Florida for a story about John Laroche (Chris Cooper), a conservationist known for poaching rare orchids. He’s a fascinating individual whose intelligence escapes Orlean, who can’t get past his toothless grin and Southern twang; when she returns to New York for a cocktail party, all she can talk about is the smell and appearance of his truck. Orlean visits again. As he describes how a moth developed an elongated nose to pollinate a special breed of orchids, she becomes entranced by his passion and fulfillment…but realizes her own superficiality and emptiness.

While engaging and entertaining, Kaufman and Orlean’s stories show how the orchid exists not to accommodate but to make the moth adapt. How a two-hour film can tell such a story with no missteps, with subtle commentary on perception and racism, high-brow and low-brow cultures, New York and Hollywood, with moments that are tender and others that are hilarious, and still include sex and guns and car chases is beyond comprehension. Nicolas Cage effectively differentiates Charlie and Donald, and Spike Jonze magnifies all the humor and irony in the screenplay. But this one goes to Charlie Kaufman.

2. In America

This is a film that grabs you from the start.

An Irish family – Johnny (Paddy Considine), Sarah (Samantha Morton), and their two young daughters (Sarah and Emma Bolger) – drives across the Canadian border, hoping to move into the States illegally. Before hitting the border police, Johnny reminds his daughters, “Remember, we’re on holiday.” As an officer approaches the car, the girls quickly exclaim, “We’re on holiday!” The officer nods as he scans their passports. The youngest daughter, Ariel, a spark plug, adds, “Yeah! And my dad’s not workin’!” Several officers surround the car, asking rapid-fire questions.

Concerned, the oldest daughter, Christy, begins her narration of the film - her little brother Frankie once said she has three wishes; right now she wishes they get across the border. The officer scans their documents, “How many children do you have?” Three, Johnny replies. Two, Sarah corrects him. This confuses the officer. “It says three here.” Johnny replies, “Yeah. We, uh, lost one.” The officer looks at the hopeful faces, hesitates, and then smiles. “Welcome to America.”

The first scene, no longer than three minutes, foreshadows everything about the film. It’s a story with humor, despair, realistic complications, and elements of mysticism, that also manages to see the good in people.

Director Jim Sheridan shares credit for the screenplay with his daughters, Naomi and Kristen, inspired by their own immigration to America following the death of their brother, Frankie. This is understandable, as the film takes its time and moves naturally; it’s almost like a filmed journal of moving to Manhattan, watching it go from abrasive and scary to warm and inviting. What’s impressive is that something so organic can be orchestrated by such meticulous craft.

The family is poor. Johnny has failed his lone Broadway audition and, gallantly as he tried, was unable to air condition their sweltering apartment. Ariel is also sad, missing Ireland and her dad’s old playful spirit. To relieve the stress, the family goes to a carnival. An ET doll catches Ariel’s eye, and Johnny decides he’ll win it for her. The scene is so carefully constructed that what begins with Johnny playfully trying to please his daughter becomes about proving he can take care of the family or losing everything. How many films can effectively pull that off?

Even fewer are the films that mix such grim complications like AIDS and poverty with something as intangible as magic without being sentimental. And then there’s the emotional climax that shows little more than the movement of a hand. The film is filled with great performances and wonderful moments that continuously build without feeling manufactured. And when it’s all said and done, it shows the difficulty in letting go of the past, and the necessity of moving forward.

1. Almost Famous

At some point, everyone feels like an outsider.

William’s mother (Francis McDormand) has the family celebrate Christmas in October when it’s less commercialized. While his middle school peers grow facial hair, William stands a foot shorter. When he asks why, his mother informs him that he’s eleven, not thirteen. His sister Anita (Zooey Deschanel), fed up with the unorthodox lifestyle, leaves home to become a stewardess. She leaves William her record collection and looks into his eyes: “One day, you'll be cool.”

He wants to believe her.

Almost Famous is a story about how William (Patrick Fugit) at fifteen lands a dream job at Rolling Stone, then goes cross-county with the up-and-coming rock band Stillwater as he tries to score an interview with the elusive guitarist Russell (Billy Crudup). It’s a story about first experiences and desperately trying to be cool - cool enough to belong in the rock ‘n’ roll community, to hang out with a band like Stillwater, to spark the interest of Penny Lane (Kate Hudson).

A great coming of age story, it’s about how William comes to realize he’s not cool…but who is? Penny Lane commands a room with her looks and charisma, hops seamlessly from band to band, and does it all without opening up, not even revealing her real name…but even she isn’t above heartbreak. Millions of Americans love Russell, who’s handsome, meets the likes of Bob Dylan, and can even unlock Penny Lane…but not even he can bullshit William’s mother. And then there’s the band as a whole, whose growing popularity has earned them the cover of Rolling Stone magazine…but they deny the facts of William’s story, as even they have insecurities about status and perception. Lester Bangs – played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman, as the poor man’s Obi-Wan Kenobi – observes it perfectly: “The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with somebody when you’re uncool.” And Lester is admittedly not cool.

Like any great movie, you remember the film for its moments. Like when Stillwater brings William backstage or when he deepens his voice on the phone for his editor. Or when Stillwater’s plane is about to crash, and the drummer breaks his silence - “Fuck it! I’m gay!” - only for the plane to steady. Russell on the roof of a high school party: “I am a golden god!” The reconciliation of Anita and her mother – “I forgive you.” “I…never said I was sorry”. And, of course, when the inner conflicts plaguing the group are resolved as they sing along to Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer”.

Loosely based on Cameron Crowe’s own experiences, it’s a film that’s written without feeling written, where every character has a distinct point of view and the actors disappear in their roles. It’s a film of bright colors, a portrait of an America united to a soundtrack of Bowie and Zeppelin and Cat Stevens. It’s a film with a heart, embracing people for who they are.

William ends up getting his interview, but he asks his big question not as a reporter but as a star struck fan: “What do you love most about being a rock star?” And Russell leans forward, glowing like a child, “To begin with…everything.”

Same for this movie.

* * * * *

Best of the rest… The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Bowling for Columbine, City of God, Closer, The Dark Knight, Eastern Promises, Flags of Our Fathers, The Fog of War, Grizzly Man, Harold and Kumar go to White Castle, High Fidelity, A History of Violence, In Bruges, Intermission, Kill Bill: vol 1, Let the Right One In, Minority Report, No Country for Old Men, Pan’s Labyrinth, Rachel Getting Married, Requiem for a Dream, Shallow Hal, Shrek, Sin City, Slumdog Millionaire, The Squid and the Whale, Traffic, Wall-E, You Can Count on Me

Top 10 Films of the Aughts (Part I)

The period between 1990 and 1999 was great for movies. Pulp Fiction, Shawshank, Hoop Dreams – that's 1994 alone. There are times when I think the quality of films (especially domestic films) has degenerated as I’ve grown more familiar with writing and filmmaking. But then I thought about it, and, man, some really great movies came out this decade.

So here are #'s 10 - 6... (#'s 5 - 1 coming soon...)

10. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Charlie Kaufman won a much-deserved Oscar for the most original concept in recent memory. Break-ups hurt because of loss – the loss of a comfort zone, the loss of someone else, the loss of someone else’s feelings. To prevent this feeling of loss, what if a medical procedure could erase that person from your memory?

The premise is ingenious, but the film stands out for depicting a universal relationship between Joel and Clementine (Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet), told from beginning to end. The break up scene is most relatable, as Joel and Clemantine each say hurtful things that can't be unsaid. Whereas most movies capture romance with sparkling jewelry and huge set pieces, the most romantic scenes involve throwing leaves at each other, falling on the ice, or lying on the couch. And of course, the film does a commendable job in showing that pleasure from the good times ultimately outweigh the eventual pain.

Joel wants to procedure to stop, but is powerless as his body is knocked out. In Joel’s final memory, he and Clementine sit on the beach, completely aware that the incident is going to be erased: “This is it, Joel. It’s going to be gone soon.” “I know.” “What do we do?” “Enjoy it.”

9. Inglourious Basterds

Quentin Tarantino might be gimmicky. He might be completely full of himself. He might be a narcissist, a sexist, a thief.

He can be all of those things, but he can still be an expert craftsman.

A farmer stands on his front yard filling buckets of water. In a car in the distance, two guards approach with a Nazi colonel (Christoph Waltz). The farmer looks to his house, to his three teenage daughters. He pours some water over his face.

In the house, the colonel takes off his hat and smiles. “Do you know who I am?” The farmer nods. The colonel motions for his guards – equipped with machine guns – to step outside, but they remain visible through the window. The colonel acknowledges the daughters and their beauty. He asks if they would mind stepping outside. They look to their father, who nods, nervously. They step outside.

In the hands of a lesser writer/director, the subsequent scene between the colonel and farmer would be rushed and expositional; with Tarantino, the talky scene plays secondary to the tension of the guards in the window and the mere fact that we don’t know anything.

To arouse the curiosity of an audience without making it question the logic - that is tough. And, man, he makes it look easy...

8. Brokeback Mountain

It took a while for this film to set in. I think that’s a testament to Heath Ledger, the screenwriters, and Ang Lee, who collectively take a subtle story/protagonist and make it fly.

The premise by nature leads to a reactive story, one that studies a cowboy Ennis (Ledger) who lacks the ability to love. Whether it’s his wife, daughters, or Jack (Jake Gyllenhaal), the one person with whom he connects, he never allows more than five consecutive words to escape his tight-lipped demeanor. When someone notices a hint of transparency, he responds aggressively, like when he attacks Jack and ends up with a bloodied lip. He pushes himself into seclusion.

Jack is killed, and though the cause of death is ambiguous, the film sets up that he was possibly murdered for being homosexual. Through Jack’s ex-wife (Anne Hathaway), Ennis learns that Jack wanted him to scatter his ashes. When going to Jack’s parents for the ashes, he finds intertwined with one of Jack’s shirts is his blood-stained shirt from their fight years earlier. He holds them up to his face.

It’s subtle and fantastic.

7. Match Point

Though elements are borrowed from his Crimes and Misdemeanors and Hannah and Her Sisters, this is the most unique of Woody Allen’s canon. For starters, there is no Woody Allen, meaning neither himself as an actor nor a neurotic character in the cast. Secondly, this was the first of his films to take place outside of New York.

For a writer, the film is an education on economy and precision. Allen equips the hero of the story, an Irishman from a poor family Chris Wilton (Jonathon Rhys Meyers), with two gifts: skill with a tennis racket and good looks. Though he never climbed the ranks in professional tennis, his skill enables him to become an instructor at a country club. There, he befriends club member Tom Hewitt (Matthew Goode) and is able to use his other gift to catch the eye of his sister Chloe (Emily Mortimer). He charms his way into her heart and into the good graces of her wealthy parents, virtually guaranteeing him a fruitful life. But there is one problem: Tom is engaged to an American, Nola Rice (Scarlett Johannson), a failed actress pulling the same stunt as Chris.

Though the outsiders are experts in their roles, their obvious similarities and sexual attraction complicates their didactic plots. An affair is unfeasible, but proves unavoidable. And that’s the first act of a film that manages to explore themes of luck, hard work, and love without seeming implausible and still deliver a twist ending that hits just the right note.

6. Love Actually

How can you think of this film without smiling? Whether it’s the cheery score, that “Christmas is all around me!”, or that even a Hugh Grant or Colin Firth can act like a complete spazz when face-to-face with that flashy-eyed girl, this is one of those movies that will always put you in a good mood.

But how is it that Love Actually avoids being cheesy? It’s because the brilliant writer/director Richard Curtis explores the flip side of the coin. A workaholic (Laura Linney) finally has the chance to romance her crush, but a call from her hospitalized brother prevents it from happening. Daniel (Liam Neeson) is in constant grief after losing his wife to cancer. And, of course, the most heartfelt scene in which Karen (Emma Thompson) realizes her marriage is over after opening a Christmas gift.

The lows also accentuate some wonderful “movie moments”. There’s the porn star “rehearsing” with his female costar while having trouble asking her on a date. There’s Jamie (Colin Firth) and his Portuguese servant in the water saying the same things in different languages. There’s the controversial Billy Mack (Bill Nighy) on television: “Kids: don’t buy drugs. [a sigh of relief from the hosts] Become a pop star and they give ‘em to you for free!” And, my personal favorite, Mark spilling his heart out to Juliet (Keira Knightley) via poster cards though he has nothing to gain.

How did this film not get a screenplay nod?

* * *

(Hm. Noticing a theme, my revised #1 of the decade is now Terminator Salvation.)

The Hangover: Ahh, the Dangers of Alcohol

I was pretty excited to see The Hangover. I am a twenty-four year old male, who enjoys drinking and has experienced more black-outs than I’m proud of. The day after a black-out includes me sheepishly calling a friend, recounting my few memories, and subtly trying to inquire about my post-blackout actions. Then, after the initial laughter, I am forced to reconcile said actions with who I am as a person. This movie was made for guys like me.

It's not uncommon for guys to take their buddies to Vegas for a last hurrah, drink too much, and do stupid things they don’t remember…stupid, meaning, going $400 over budget or getting thrown out of a casino. What the fine gentlemen in The Hangover get into is beyond surreal. Their night begins innocently enough with three friends (Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, Zach Galifianakis) toasting their soon-to-be buddy Justin (Doug Billings) atop a Vegas rooftop. And then…they wake up. They can’t remember a thing, but with the room trashed, they guess they had a good time. Until they discover the groom is missing.

This begins the arduous process of piecing together the previous night which includes – but is not limited to – the following discoveries: a bed atop a Vegas hotel; a baby in their hotel room; a tiger belonging to Mike Tyson; a missing tooth; a valet ticket which gets them a police car instead of their convertible; a Chinese gangster inside said convertible. Though incredibly random, the movie is able to make it work within a logical timeline (which is the only logic necessary, given that most drunken behavior is illogical).

And yet, I left the theatre pretty under whelmed. It’s a pretty basic story, held above water by the reveals and the jokes that go along with them. I feel like most of the action in the now was not spent paving over the previous nights' events, and that we were treated to a slew of characters saying variations of, "Oh, you don't remember what happened? Oh, you were so wasted..." I didn’t love the cast, nor did I feel that they would have actually been friends (Galifianakis is a HUGE exception; everything he says is gold). And the Chinese gangster bit, though initially funny, gets tiresome.

I still liked it, in that I can remember and laugh at certain jokes and moments. But I definitely expected more. If we judge the movie from the box office, it was insanely successful. I don’t know…maybe after X years of drinking, I’m a bit desensitized to this sort of stuff?


(PS - Sit through the credits)

Best Moviegoing Experiences

Movies are made to be seen at the theater. They can be watched and appreciated on anything from a flat screen to an iPod, but you will rarely find a venue with as tangible (the sound, the size) and intangible (the collective laughter in a comedy) assets as a movie theater. As such, there are certain movies that MUST be seen at a movie theater for its full potential to be realized. 

Some may scoff at the fact that Rocky beat out Network and Taxi Driver for Best Picture in 1977. (Hell, I prefer the latter two.) But hearing my parents say how the entire audience chanted, "Rocky!" during the film's climactic fight makes me really feel it was an experience of a lifetime. I kick myself to this day for missing out on Saving Private Ryan (I compensated by seeing Enemy at the Gates opening night...). Something About Mary? American Beauty? Missed 'em. There are plenty that I chose to "...wait until it came out on [video/DVD]", only to have similar regrets.

Strangely, when scanning my facebook page,  among my favorite movies, I only consider one as a top moviegoing experience. Here are my top five:

(NOTE: this only includes movies in their original theatrical runs, not retrospective screenings - i.e. It's a Wonderful Life at IFC.)

5. The Matrix. I saw this movie pre-buzz. There was a solid audience, but it was far from full. The lights went down and, wow...

If anything could beat the originality of the premise, it was the original action POVs. It was completely revolutionary, enhancing an already mind-blowing story. The action built and built until the climax totally dwarfed the beginning. (And the best part: no one in the audience knew it would be ruined with a second and a third!)

I went with my dad and my friend. We sat in our seats a few minutes of credits, a rarity. My dad looked over at us and asked, "Are you real?" Totally awesome.

4. The Dark Knight. I preferred Slumdog Millionaire. The story, I feel, is more original, the storytelling is clean, it's beautifully shot, it's got heart ... it's my favorite movie of 2008.

But that gets to the heart of what makes a moviegoing experience. The Dark Knight action scenes were incredible, and Heath Ledger's Joker scenes provided icing on the cake. The score mirrors the strength of the characters. The camera always seems to be moving, as if in a state of panic. It's special for a two and a half hour movie to begin with a bang and end with an even bigger bang. 

Afterwards, I could deconstruct some of the movie's logistics, and certain criticisms from blogs and film buffs rang true. But that didn't keep me from going back and experiencing it again.

3. Home Alone. For a six-year-old, watching an eight-year-old command his world was the coolest thing. First of all, he's home alone, meaning he has access to parents awesome TV, he 

can eat as much ice cream as he wants, he can order his own pizza, and he can watch violent movies. Secondly, this kid is cool. He can outsmart the check-out lady with witty remarks, scare away an inept pizza clerk, and talk to grown-ups on their own level. And when two accomplished burglars attempt to step on his turf, he outsmarts them and kicks their ass (yes, he even gets to say "ass"!).

Children are at the mercy of their parents. But for me and my friends, Home Alone allowed us to vicariously spread our wings.

2. Kingpin. What parent would let a ten-year-old watch this movie? An awesome one. This was 

quite possibly the funniest movie I've ever seen in theaters. What's not to love? There's a constant stream of jokes both subtle ("We present 'The Jeffersons on Ice!'") and over-the-top ("Roy, can you get sick from drinking piss? ... Even if it's your own?"); an ex-bowler protagonist with a hook for a hand who steals a baby's breast milk to supplant coffee creamer; a 40-year-old amish Randy Quaid introduced to the decadency of America; and a creepy/hysterical performance by Bill Murray. The great thing about seeing a comedy at the theater is that you're watching it with many senses of humor. And as a result, everything was funny.

I still watch this once a year. It has something most comedies lack: a heart. It's a story about redemption, and the ability to rebuild one's self-esteem. It's not only one of my favorite movie-going experiences, but one of my all time favorite movies.

1. Jurassic Park. The magic of seeing real live dinosaurs was simply captivating. I revisited the theater three times to watch this movie, got into countless debates with other eight-year-olds

about whether such a theme park could actually be built (one was not only convinced that it could be done but that it had been done, and his rich parents took him there!), and spent countless hours watching dinosaur TV specials and reading dinosaur books. Sadly, I was not one of the cool kids as I lacked the Jurassic Park lunchbox...

I was less enthused when I got the video for my tenth birthday; I was bored when I watched it when I was twenty-one. But there's no denying or forgetting that initial excitement. That was sixteen years ago. No doubt, it was my favorite movie-going experience.

What are your top 5?

(Note, here's a movie that nearly made my list: Titanic. In retrospect, the story is pretty lame, the lines are beyond cheesy, Billy Zane is a cartoonish villain, and you kind of want to punch DiCaprio in the face. It's hard to take it seriously nowadays. But I didn't know what to expect when I first saw it. I was really involved with an unexpected love story, and the ending was effective on a superficial and emotional level. And I know I'm not the only one.)

Fast & Furious a.k.a. Drift from Fan-base

I attended an early screening of this movie and received a promotional item. It was a book of matches. I opened the matches to realize that it was not in fact a matchbook, but a very small condom…with Fast & Furious scrolled on the cover. It made me laugh.

In fact, many parts of Fast & Furious made me laugh. Like when the actors attempted to act. Or when the screenplay attempted to tell a story. And who can forget when the director attempted to compensate!

The story is simple. A wanted man in the states, Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) is brought out of hiding when a heroin importer kills his girlfriend Letty (Michelle Rodriguez) in Los Angeles. There, he teams with Brian O’Conner (Paul Walker) in an attempt to get revenge and clear his name in the process.

With this being the original cast of The Fast and the Furious, which ended with everyone going their own way, the audience is treated to the obligatory “where did you go?”, “I thought you loved me!” scenes that reconnect the characters. And whether it’s Vin Diesel looking confused in moments of reflection or Paul Walker delivering lines with the depth of a mud puddle, we begin to realize how these actors came to be involved in a fourth installment of the series.

It certainly wasn’t because of a worthwhile script. That a story with no more than six plot points could make each one confusing and illogical is somewhat of a miracle. A racing-inspired movie contains one generic race and becomes the redheaded stepchild to Traffic. The dialogue is recycled from a bad Pennzoil commercial. And there is more than one occasion in which a character expresses a reason for doing something only to contradict himself the next line (no other character seems to notice).

Did I really expect more? Yes. I hoped for simple, stupid entertainment. What I got was one of the funniest movie-going experiences of my life. Usually that’s a good thing, but, well, let’s just say this won't have me backtracking to catch Tokyo Drift…

Hollywood...

Italian filmmaker Bernardo Bertulucci referred to it as “the big nipple”. Paul Newman refused to move west, saying he’d be too close to the cookie jar. Having just visited Hollywood a second time, I definitely see what they mean.

LA is a movie town. Its wealthy inhabitants made their fortune in the film industry as artists or as facilitators. Its working class is comprised of commercial actors, television writers, and music video directors. Its other main industries – tabloids, porn – derive from movies.

LA seems like a good place for aspiring screenwriters. At NYU, many professors advocated a post-graduate move. But if we were married to New York City, they would say to establish ourselves in LA first, and then we’d be able to write from anywhere. A manager I met offered a different perspective: “LA, New York… Live where you’re inspired.”

That statement has a lot of resonance. Too often, I consider a potential relocation as a good career move, feeling more able to market myself in Hollywood. I never considered the effect that could have on my writing. Not just in terms of the physical writing, but also being within proximity of The League, my former professors, and good friends…all of which create a great writing environment.

Marketing is secondary to writing something that represents my voice and talent. And as we’ve seen from Juno and Gran Torino - and of course from our newly represented Cakeman - you don’t need to have an address on Sunset Boulevard to get noticed…you just need your address on the title page of a good script. At least that’s what my trip to Hollywood reaffirmed. And it also inspired me to return as soon as possible…via First Class, courtesy of the big nipple.

Remembering Heath Ledger

I was very happy when Heath Ledger won the Oscar for The Dark Knight. Yeah, it was a shoe-in since the film’s premiere, but it was still a great to hear his name announced. His untimely death made the already-high expectations of his Joker difficult to live up to…and he exceeded them. The quirky mannerisms, the voice, the petrifying stare: he created one of the great villains in movie history (bettering Hollywood icon Jack Nicholson in the process) and was properly recognized for his achievement.

But The Dark Knight will not be his Rebel Without a Cause, the film that defined James Dean and engrained his effeminate male “cool” into America’s psyche. That distinction goes to his portrayal of Ennis Del Mar in Brokeback Mountain.

I have to admit, I really had no interest in seeing Brokeback when it first came out. The trailer made it look campy: a rocky love triangle involving Ledger, Jake Gyllenhaal, and Michelle Williams that involved slaps to the face and melodramatic lines with the inspirational theme from Shawshank in the background. It seemed like kitsch.

I was dragged to see it in theatres; afterwards, I decided Heath Ledger was my favorite actor of my generation.

It’s an injustice to simplify the movie as a gay love story. It’s really not a love story, as it’s about a man who lacks the ability to love. The story shows how this inflicts collateral damage upon his daughters, his ex-wife, and the love of his life, Jack.

But he is also pained, even though the story provides little dialogue or action to substantiate such. It’s all Heath Ledger. He rarely smiles. When he talks, he barely opens his mouth. When he parts from Jack, though Jack looks in his rear-view mirror and cries, Ledger only slumps his shoulders and walks away. He doesn’t even engage people with his eyes. He’s an enigma, and not even Jack can open him up.

The performance personifies Heath Ledger, the actor. William Goldman wrote that the problem with modern Hollywood is that there is no mystery behind our movie stars. Ledger was never a YouTube sensation, was never involved in a stupid arrest, was never one to grace the cover of US Weekly. He was a handsome movie star who remained shy and quiet. He was Hollywood’s next pretty-boy in Ten Things I Hate About You and A Knight’s Tale, who turned down the big paychecks for movies he wanted to do.

It gave me hope when he landed the role of the Joker. It was the most coveted role in Hollywood, sought after by ever young male in the game. But it went to the guy who would not conform; the guy who became a star by following his heart.

He won the Oscar for playing a destructive psychopath. I wish he had won for Brokeback as well. It would have been fitting for Ledger and would have been another example of his affect on Hollywood: a soft-soft spoken role wins over a charismatic character with an accent.

Writing the Economy

The Cleveland Browns. The weather. Um…

Damn, there really are few things that suck worse than the economy right now. And it’s not exactly the best time for an aspiring screenwriter, for, as we know, our writing is meant to be watched, not read. This, of course, takes millions of dollars. And, sadly, those fortunate members of The Millionaires Club are too busy stuffing their remaining assets into a mattress to finance a movie.

But that’s not entirely true. I mean, movies are still getting greenlit. Hell, The Dark Knight grossed nearly a billion dollars in theatres. There’s clearly money to be made.

Here’s the problem: studio heads are notorious for being cowards. And, frankly, it’s easy for anyone to label them as such. I mean, if my former boss was canned for greenlighting a sixty million dollar flop whose lead actor got DUI, I’m sure I’d be more frugal. And that’s when things were good. Now, the corporations who support these studios have a lot less ammo; the studios will have to be even more careful in selecting targets.

For the next couple of years, I envision a slew of sequels, adaptations, Judd Apatow comedies, and disaster movies. They are the best chances for a studio to make money. And by “best chances”, I mean that these types of movies are continuously validated by box office revenue.

I’m not so sure about the indie world. I know some indies are bankrolled by rich people who like to dabble in the arts. Then again, some are shot with a bunch of no-names on a shoestring budget in Brooklyn. Regardless, there will be less.

Pretty bleak, eh?

I had a high school football coach who, before the start of every season, would punch us linebackers in the stomach. Later, in close games, he’d huddle us up and say, Men, it’s gut check time.

Not many aspiring writers support themselves with their writing. All of us Leaguers have day jobs. Mine is at a hedge fund. I get to see this beast of a stock market leave blood trails. It ain’t pretty.

And I wonder how long I’ll have a job. And I wonder how I’ll react if I lose my job. Will I say, Fuck it, screenwriting was a bad choice; I’m going to med school? Or will I have confidence in my abilities and education, and persevere?

I’m not the only aspiring screenwriter who works for a company that’s losing money. For a lot of people, this will be gut check time. And, frankly, it gives me hope.

I’ve seen a lot of creative endeavors get rewarded. Our former classmates at Derrick comedy had a slew of successful web sketches, and now they have a movie premiering at Sundance. And there’s things like this guy (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCx8xjHMt_M), a character actor who had one line on The Sopranos and then created a rap about it.

I’m not saying I want to film a YouTube sketch. I’m just saying that this whole mess of an economy has made me want to embrace my creativity. Not just in the hope of getting rewarded financially, but also because it feels good. I never started writing for the money. And if anything else, this experience has reaffirmed my faith that money isn’t everything.

Shooting the Moon

I wonder how many people achieve their career goals. You hear it all the time: someone with a life-long dream to become President only became a Congressman; a high school football star wound up only being a third-string NFL quarterback; the law school grad who wanted to make a difference as a federal judge was only a prosecutor. To most people, their accomplishments would be revered. But in their minds, they failed.

I think about that in terms of the film industry. I know M. Night Shyamalan wanted to be the next Hitchcock, but now audiences have gotten over him. I wonder if my old professor resented that he only had one script made because he dreamed of becoming a big-time director. I read articles about all these screenwriters who talk about failing in their pursuits even though they had written some of my favorite films.

It’s easy for us lowly creatures trying to break into the industry to say these guys take things for granted. Surely a Spielberg-wannabe who only became a screenwriter would take solace in relating his career to someone like us. But let’s turn the tables: are we really setting the bar high enough?

I think of the old adage that says if you shoot for the stars, you’ll at least hit the moon. What then of the people who only shoot for the moon? Within the artistic hierarchy that is Hollywood, I wonder if that’s where prospective screenwriters typically aim. I know people who just want to get a script made. But that's just a stepping-stone for my friends who want to become A-list writers, with an outside dream of winning an Oscar. And that in turn is a step for those who want to revolutionize film as we know it.

The number of people in the world who actually realize their goals must be small; the number of people in the film industry who do so must be minute. The hardest thing about the industry to grasp – at least for a guy from a blue-collar town – is that all the effort in the world will not guarantee success. And at NYU I was surrounded by professors whose knowledge of screenwriting I would kill for, but who, in their own expectations, failed to meet their goals.

Coming up short is disappointing, and in many cases can be uncontrollable. I think that has led me and my friends to make our goals more realistic. But maybe we need to aim for the stars. And if we only hit the moon, maybe we'll have the serenity to appreciate the view.