• credit: Warner Bros. Pictures
    movie reviews

    Barbie (2023) ***

    I try to give movies a pass on how enfranchised they are within a system because, well, when I say “a system” I mean “more or less reality,” which is just our society and government and etcetera. Movies are expensive and big-budget flicks only get made when they please the people with the money. People with money like the system, you see, because the system has made sure they have money. That’s just how the whole thing works!

    I will try to give movies a pass on failures of inclusion too. Generally, if a movie isn’t inclusive, you don’t *want* it to be. Not all writers are cut out for writing inclusivity. See: The Proposal including characters of Tlingit descent via Ryan Reynolds and Betty White.

    But when a story directly engages with The System the way Barbie (2023) does, you really have to judge it on that level. You gotta have a paranoid reading about the way that The System influenced its creation, creator, marketing, and the audience.

    If we don’t talk about late-stage capitalism in regards to Barbie, you might as well try to talk about Orange is the New Black without talking about lesbians, or Mona Lisa Smile without talking about lesbians, or U-Haul without talking about lesbians. You’re just missing the whole point. And usually lesbians!

    ~

    Actually let’s talk lesbians for a second.

    Have you ever seen a more sublime portrayal of fated mates on the screen as when Barbie and America Ferrera’s eyes met for the first time?

    Those two are *connected*. Whole ass red thread of fate. Their souls recognize one another.

    Ferrera’s character is also married to a man who is essentially a Ken, but I guess the queerest thing about this movie (besides a mouth-frothingly attractive Ncuti Gatwa) is the acknowledgment that Straight Business Women are allowed to acquire men for sperm reasons and then just kind of let them beach around the house or whatever.

    I’m 100% convinced Barbie and Ferrera’s character end up together, coparenting their daughter, and I’m not interested in any other readings.

    ~

    Since Barbie was one of the most popular movies of the year, I won’t try to sum it up. The plot is not exactly important. Plot here is a scaffold that interconnects thematic vignettes about Barbie, Ken, patriarchy, and/or admittedly great Barbie product jokes. Plot is how we get Barbie on a bench with a beautiful old woman while Ken is trying to perform surgery; the movie is about the beautiful old woman and the surgery more than how the characters arrived in those positions.

    I guess you could say, on a meta level, Plot is the Ken and “vibes about gender from a wealthy white American woman” is the real Barbie.

    Ultimately, we spend a lot of time working on a fairly simple thesis statement.

    This is the thrust of Barbie: Being a woman in a patriarchy is difficult, and if we acknowledge it, it’s way easier to function intelligently.

    Most of the movie sticks to the beginning part of the thesis.

    “Being a woman in a patriarchy is difficult.”

    That’s hard to disagree with, and the stylized story is confident you will agree. Most everyone can sympathize with it.

    The movie falters reaching its conclusion about how this should be handled. Women are brought back into the fold of sisterhood and anti-patriarchy by recognizing the conflict inherent in womanity.

    But like, that’s it?

    My brain started shouting “opiate of the masses” when I realized that the not-so-revolutionary conclusion of this was for basically nothing to change or improve. We’re just supposed to see the problem. And now it’s not better, but I guess it’s good enough?

    Given that Mattel makes plenty of money in The System, there’s no way that it could have been more subversive, which really highlights the conflict at the core of Barbie. The thing is, Barbie also tries to frame this conflict as a feature rather than a bug. Trying to tell a revolutionary story about patriarchy in the constraints of the patriarchy is deeply uncomfortable, so you’re supposed to revel in that, I guess.

    Someone like Greta Gerwig has surely made way more compromises than we’ve seen in Barbie to reach her accomplishments, and of course she wants The System to persist. It’s rewarding her. She just wishes being a woman in America’s high caste wasn’t so annoying sometimes.

    “I see you,” Greta Gerwig says into the mirror. “You’re having a really hard time succeeding in this patriarchy, Greta. You are succeeding, though.” Hashtag girlboss.

    ~

    I wouldn’t even talk about it if Mattel hadn’t already given us Barbie material I prefer.

    The gonzo, almost dadaist humor of Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse is my personal favorite. It’s definitely designed for the YouTube iPad generation of kids. Go check it out on YouTube, sincerely; the jokes flash by at the speed of memes in a show formatted somewhat like an especially silly reality show.

    Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse gave me an outstanding Ken who I just adored. As the only mechanic who seems even willing to engage with the whole shlonpoofa issue, he’s engineered everything cool the Dreamhouse has, and he’s amazing at enabling Barbie.

    Thanks to this Ken, and my own army of gay Kens when I was a kid, Ken was *never* “just Ken” to me, which made me really bounce off of the characterization of Ken by Ryan Gosling. I found his performance near-unwatchable, which I assume is entirely personal preference, possibly because I’m so offended by making Ken a brainless slimeball when we know he’s so good with cars and Barbie’s robot closet.

    Anyway, there wasn’t a page of Barbie (2023) that was half as revolutionary as Barbie as The Princess and the Pauper, which took Mattel’s permission to use Barbie’s likeness and dived head-first into a plot that wasn’t joking around about caste. Literally, Princess Barbie realizes the caste issues in her kingdom and starts changing it by the end. Realistic? Nah. But it’s so much more subversive than anything I spent my time squinting discontentedly at for the last couple hours.

    ~

    The feminism Barbie features is one mostly concerning to a caste of American high enough to actually *buck* traditional gender roles. Binary gender is enforced by violence. If you’re outside that binary, like being a male fashion doll, we already know this isn’t a story about people economically vulnerable to such violence. The idealized men paralleling Barbie are allowed to have feminine qualities, but remain wealthy. That’s the lack of inclusivity in Barbie: a lack of money.

    If you have enough money to buy a Barbie doll, but especially if you have enough money to care about historic Barbie dolls and their clothes, you can be included in this movie too.

    Again, pointing back to earlier in my review, I wouldn’t even mention it if the movie were not about The System (it’s a toy! brand! movie!), and American capitalism predominantly divides its castes by wealth at this point. The problems of the ruling class are not the problems of everyone else. The concerns of Mattel executives are extremely obvious in this toy movie, but they would really prefer if you think it’s about gender, actually. Do you see how revolutionary they are about gender?

    Gender stuff is not radical here. An excessive amount of time is spent on Ken’s personal arc, and my sibling argues that the Kens in general have a far more interesting and more concrete plotline than Barbie herself does. I got a real feeling of “feminism is also worrying about the men <3” and it’s like. You guys. We are *not* far enough in A Feminism where we need to worry about men being marginalized. Not even in a metaphoric sense.

    Ultimately, as we all know, this is a movie meant to sell toys, and here Barbie has done a whole lot of work and spent a lot of money and monologued a lot of words in order to make it look thoughtful enough to sell toys to people who weren’t buying them enough.

    ~

    It kinda raises the question: Why in the world bother engaging with The System if you’re not going to have anything real to say about fixing the pinch points? Why wouldn’t you have the most glancing thought about how gender disparity is always about wealth and who is allowed to have it? What kind of opiate of the masses nonsense is “seeing you”?

    That’s not a rhetorical question meant to make a point! I have an answer.

    There’s nothing capitalism won’t monetize, and that includes criticism of itself. In fact, the media environment means there are more people engaging with media *intelligently* than ever, and folks can’t be assuaged as easily by the same ol, same ol. You gotta get to the next level. If the people love meta material analyzing capitalism, then they will surely love to buy meta material criticizing capitalism. It’s just not allowed to have any real teeth.

    Barbie really had critics *frothing* over its level of self-aware meta, which means Mattel and Gerwig hit the sweet spot perfectly.

    As my sibling said, the snake eats its tail.

    ~

    The conclusion that I arrived at is that Barbie is deeply nihilistic.

    There is nothing better than this, you see. You can live in the toy land and pretend everything is fine, or you can grow old and die. Either way, we see you! We see your struggles. We see you, and that is it. Beginning, middle, end.

    Ideas and brands live forever.

    Barbie’s got blinders on, and it loves it that way. Don’t you? Gosh, I should really pull my old Totally Hair Barbie out of the attic. I’d love to buy a Weird Barbie. I’ll grab one on my way home from the gyno.

    ~

    You’ll note I still gave the movie three stars, even though I’ve written *cough cough* number of words criticizing it. Three stars is pretty warm tbh, considering that the movie is in opposition with my personal values in many ways and I found its pacing uneven.

    It’s got some really funny moments. Ken’s song is genuinely good. I would never complain about the art direction. There are so many performances I adore, like President Barbie. I am smitten with the transition between worlds forever. Can I do it a few times?

    Plus, Alan is my favorite queer inclusion in the movie. A male doll wearing the pink jumpsuit and conspiring with the Barbies?

    There’s real heart to this, even if the heart exists in a bleak wasteland, and that’s kinda relatable.

    Gerwig has stated (to paraphrase her) that she really fully plans on succeeding in The Man’s World, and Barbie not only furthers that goal for her, but also serves as another stepping stone in the Margot Robbie Girlboss Turns Big IP Feminist Journey. Which is…interesting? Deeply unappealing to me but kind of compelling? I guess what I’m saying is, I’d still rather have another Greta Gerwig movie to chew over, frowny-faced, than a Zack Snyder movie. Hashtag girlboss.

    But I find the limitations of Barbie so bleak, it was actively unpleasant to watch sometimes. Like I think they would have made this movie on Ferenginar without feeling bad about anything, you know? (If you don’t know what I mean, it’s a Star Trek reference. I’m sorry.) Realizing that the misery wasn’t really going to go anywhere just made it feel grim. It felt self-conscious more than self-aware. They didn’t even show Barbie and America Ferrera kissing, and there were *so* many opportunities.

    There’s a lotta cheap representation, but at least this one was well-made cheap representation that actually paid marginalized actors to depict their own representation.

    There’s a lot of value in being a movie worth discussing.

    So as a movie-lover, it’s not a movie I want (my takeaway was unpleasant), but I think it holds an interesting place as a mirror reflecting the time-and-place of America in 2023, and it’s interesting to me as a reviewer (I love analyzing!). I appreciate seeing something made with effort and intent. I’m probably never going to watch it again.

    (image credit: Warner Bros. Pictures)

  • movie reviews

    Lucy (2014) *

    Trigger warning for abuse.

    The director of Lucy, Luc Besson, is a disturbing man to google (The Daily Beast). Stories from the shoot of The Professional are potentially triggering in regards to abuse of children, and I won’t recite them here. Suffice it to say, push-back from a young Natalie Portman’s parents and Jean Reno (the actor playing the titular character) prevented Portman from being put into horribly exploitative positions.

    In real life, Besson met a 12-year-old girl and began dating her openly when she was fifteen. They married two years later. Although there are more allegations of abuse toward Besson from several women, a French court dismissed them, and I don’t think we need to open a conversation about those allegations when his grooming, assault, and marriage to a girl so young is fact. I mean, it’s enough. It’s way more than enough.

    In any case, if you look across his filmography, you’ll see a man who often features sexualized young heroines getting beaten to crap. The greater context of his life makes his films seem like visualizations of cruel fantasies.

    Lucy is another iteration of this theme with Scarlett Johansson at the front. She’s a Woody Allen supporter (Fandomwire), and I’m never quite sure what to make of people who seem to gravitate toward the more abusive directors. Here, ScarJo is the model upon which Besson’s love of wounded women is inflicted, and I’m mostly grateful she was almost thirty-years-old shooting the movie.

    To paraphrase the elevator pitch for Lucy, a young woman visiting Taiwan becomes a drug mule and then sorta turns into a superhero when the bag breaks open inside of her.

    From the beginning, Lucy is depicted as a trembling antelope about to be slaughtered by cheetahs. The plot is structured to have her writhing sexily in pain until she’s on enough drugs to simply become bruised and covered in blood and robotic, which is weirdly (from personal experience) also extremely attractive to men who enjoy sexy abused women.

    I once knew an author whose fetish was transparently abuse against women; he often spoke of how much he loved seeing their strength by how they prevailed. How their bodies could be liquefied by the abuse, yet they would keep going. Abusive men enjoy seeing hurt women prevail to keep getting hurt, as with Joss Whedon and his bevy of abused characters and colleagues.

    This kind of man is not good at storytelling. There isn’t enough empathy for whole characters or humility for feedback. And Lucy isn’t a good movie.

    I didn’t understand it when I originally watched it because it was 2014 and I hadn’t done that many drugs yet. I’ve done drugs now. So I can tell you that the fake-science handwavium of this flick is entirely to prop up a story about how awesome drugs are. Yes. The plot of Lucy is, “Oh my God, I feel awesome on drugs. I know everything. I’m so smart. Drugs are great. It’s gonna kill me, but what a way to die!”

    This is drenched in buckets of pseudointellectualism, using the voice of Morgan Freeman (link to overview of abuse allegations on Variety) to narrate stuff about nature and predators and prey. The movie arrives at the most drug-logic conclusion ever: It’s about “time.” None of us would exist if not for “time.” Yeah, okay, Besson.

    Lovers of psychedelics will be familiar with the train of thought surrounding unity with the universe, the smallness of the individual, etc. Whether or not those thoughts have any validity, the contribution of people like Luc Besson to this vision is sort of like this dark, nasty, caustic side. He’s a guy with crappy fantasies having a good (for him) trip and I don’t want him in my vibe zone, you know?

    Possibly he wrote this after a too-large dose of shrooms, and someone would have been doing us all a favor by putting the coke-covered screenplay in the trash with the empty sheet of LSD tabs.

    I genuinely enjoy the part of Lucy where most dialogue is non-English and not subtitled. I feel like I’m a bad reviewer if I don’t call out things someone did well, and Besson’s ability to storytell beyond language barriers is an impressive feat to this monolingual country-locked American. He’s very visual and the confluence of all the drug-visuals and drug-logic (the movie even looks more or less like an acid trip) works on that aesthetic level.

    Besson truly has aesthetic skill in abundance. The Fifth Element coasts primarily on his ability to cast attractive, charismatic actors and draw upon (genuinely brilliant) French retrofuturism, even when the story is sloppy nonsense that also mostly serves to get us to the moments where Milla Jovovich whimpers in a bloodied ball.

    But god, Lucy is kinda embarrassing. Because doing that many drugs isn’t awesome; it only feels awesome because you are a chemical creature and you’re punching the button that gives you the good chemicals. Dying young and sexy like Lucy isn’t cool. You’re not really a genius when you’re drooling on your bathroom floor, talking about how the key is time, and it doesn’t gain any real potency when you put a forty million dollar budget behind it.

    There are so many other drug-related movies I’d prefer watching to this one. Lucy can go in the bin with Requiem for a Dream.

  • source: Miramax films
    movie reviews

    She’s All That (1999) *****

    Does any movie get more nineties than this one? Saying “after losing his girl to a Real World star, Freddie Prinze Junior does hackey-sack on stage at a slam poetry event” makes me feel so nineties, I just exploded in neon abstracts and skateboarded away listening to ska music.

    She’s All That is one of those cultural touchstones for for a generation that I missed out on. I was just a little too young for the movie, and my older sibling didn’t care for it either, so I wasn’t exposed until I spotted it on Netflix. Back in the 00s, the fake-bet-relationship movie we loved was Shakespearean 10 Things I Hate About You.

    (Interestingly, 10 Things came out of the same year as She’s All That, sort of like when Antz and A Bug’s Life came out in the same year, or Repo Men and Repo! The Genetic Opera, or Dante’s Peak and Volcano.)

    10 Things was an adaptation of Taming of the Shrew, but She’s All That considers itself a Pygmalion story. It cares more about the disparate classes of the heroine and hero than the heroine’s difficult personality. Freddie Prinze Jr’s character is both prince and fairy godmother; his belief in Laney helps make her transform into the princess version of herself. In the end, Laney remarks that she feels like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman (but not a sex worker), which means she’s talking about the Pygmalion elements.

    The movie is telling us what it means to be about, and I think that’s interesting because it’s not really the impact. The actual impact on culture for She’s All That was becoming iconic for the ugly-girl-turns-hot trope. You know, when we pretend a normal- or hot-looking woman is ugly/unattractive/undesirable because of her hair and glasses.

    I hadn’t seen this movie before, but I saw the parody in Not Another Teen Movie. So I was surprised that She’s All That *wasn’t* the worst iteration of the trope. Laney has been struggling with low self-esteem, congested creativity, and sometimes insults herself out loud. Darling young Anna Paquin acknowledges that post-makeover Laney isn’t really improved, just different.

    The actual change isn’t a haircut, contact lenses, and higher contrast makeup. It’s Laney deciding to participate in the world.

    In fact, it’s a lot like the execution of the same trope with Toula in My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It’s not that Toula wasn’t hot before. She just believed her family calling her some dowdy old woman and put herself out to pasture. Laney has put herself out to pasture because of grief.

    The heartfelt element of Laney’s journey is probably why She’s All That originally resonated with audiences. Freddie Prinze Junior is a pitch-perfect pining hero, too.

    Including a dance scene from Matthew Lillard and prom choreography echoing West Side Story adds just enough camp to keep disbelief suspended. This was really a nice mix of sincere and silly, plus some 90s gross-out humor I couldn’t handle in the era and still kinda don’t love.

    Don’t look away when they’re in the cafeteria. This movie was shot at Torrance High School, the same school used in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Sarah Michelle Gellar makes an appearance in costume as Buffy the Vampire Slayer. SMG doesn’t just share fictional high schools with the movie, either. She’s still married to Freddie Prinze Junior. Awww. That means Buffy gets pining love eyes from Zack Siler to this day. <3

    (image source: Miramax Films)

  • credit: 20th Century Studios
    movie reviews

    Die Hard (1988) ****

    Dear Rory,

    I finally came up with a pitch for reviewing our favorite Christmas movie, Die Hard.

    Like I totally agree, there’s no point trying to give a traditional review to Die Hard. I don’t think I can come up with a better way to explain it than you did. Whatever interesting 1980s class commentary might happen irt blue collar figures versus the globalist corporate entity is super-numbed by the fact that cops don’t belong in the labor movement ever, at all, period. And I don’t think we’re at the point where we’re ready to tackle The Die Hard Problem (movies and TV making Black actors the face of the justice system to avoid engaging with the racial dynamics of our carceral system). That takes away a whole lotta more-substantial commentary on the flick. Maybe when I start watching 80s action movies?

    Anyhoodles, yes, the copaganda is way beyond the scope of this review, so I was thinking I should just treat it like it’s any other holiday romcom.

    I know what you’re thinking. People are bored of arguing about whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

    But are they bored of talking about Die Hard as a Christmas Romcom?

    The argument here isn’t, “Is it a Christmas romcom?” but rather, “Who’s the romantic pairing?” Right? I think that’s the argument for our review.

    Let me take a whack the pros and cons of each potential romantic hero for our central heroine, John McClane. (Obv he’d be the heroine; he’s kind of a manic pixie copboy who likes to frolic barefoot through the park broken glass.)

    Holly Gennaro: This is the second most obvious romantic hero for John. Holly’s his ex, and a lot of people love ex reunion stories. There are cute kids involved. Bringing a family back together is such a nice hopeful visual for the ending. Plus, Holly has to realize that John being a *massive* pain in the ass is endearing when it’s aimed at a villain, which is romantic character growth if I’ve ever heard it. Also, Bonnie Bedelia is sooo smokin.

    Sgt. Al Powell: The physically distant but emotionally intimate relationship between Al and John is reminiscent of classics like You’ve Got Mail, Serendipity, Your Place Or Mine, and The Holiday. They love each other long before they’ve ever locked eyes. John and Al are smooching atop the thin blue line. It’s romantic?

    Hans Gruber: My personal favorite and the most obvious pairing. As with Rock Hudson and Doris Day, we love seeing a couple with spicy chemistry. Entire romcoms are built on a couple arguing with each other. Nobody argues like Hans and John. The way they lob quips back and forth between each other is basically foreplay. Their playful banter once they finally meet blows the top off the building. Plus, dreamy Alan Rickman has a history being Austen heroes, so he’s got the chops to sweep a giggling John off his bloody feet.

    What do you think? People are going to love it if I write a review like this, right? I really think I’ve stumbled onto something genius here.

    Hope you’re having a great time six feet away from me, which I could know if I spoke to you instead of sending this email.

    Love, Sara

    (image credit: 20th Century Studios)

  • movie reviews

    The Proposal (2009) *

    I go into movies daring myself to like them, at least when I’m on a themed watch. I think it’s more work and more interesting to find reasons to like something that you ordinarily might not. The Proposal came out in 2009, a year when I was going to see basically every movie in the theater out of boredom, so I already watched and disliked this one. But 2009 was “early days” and my story literacy was much lower.

    If you asked me for a review of The Proposal in 2009, I would have said something like, “Everything is super sexist surrounding Sandra Bullock’s character and the end doesn’t resolve stuff right.”

    I expected to have a much more complicated reaction to this movie now. And my review is certainly wordier and more-informed.

    But basically, everything is super sexist and the end doesn’t resolve stuff right.

    In The Proposal, Sandra Bullock is a Canadian about to get deported from the United States despite her work visa because she fucked around and found out. She insists Canadians aren’t the type we’re trying to get out of the country. I think she actually said that immigration enforcement is only there for terrorists, which is the way women like Sandra Bullock in 2009 says “not white people.” ICE is a monstrosity that terrorizes loads of people and Bullock’s character is fine with that but it’s not supposed to terrorize her. She dismisses all the people out in the immigration waiting room as like gardeners and stuff. Sandra Bullock’s character is massively racist.

    Anyway, Bullock isn’t disliked at work because of her racism, but because she’s cold and work-driven and doesn’t fuck around with the feelings of people around her. This is another autism-coded Sandra Bullock character, like in Miss Congeniality, and yeah it all comes across super sexist. Her assistant, Ryan Reynolds, extremely insecure and defensive in his masculinity, runs around saying absurdly sexist things about this woman, and fostering an environment where everyone at work hates the powerful boss-lady.

    I think we’re supposed to feel bad for him that this racist woman involves a sexist guy for fraud. Bullock leverages her power bribe Reynolds into faking an immigration marriage with her. And now we’re off to the cute part of the movie? Where they fall in love? Presumably? I want them to both kill each other.

    It turns out Reynolds is ALSO RICH. We only care about rich people in this movie. I note this because class is a major element in romcoms! You often see cross-class romances because the fantasy of economic security gets a lot of people real horny, understandably. Bullock’s “While You Were Sleeping” is notable for being about people who feel like they could be your neighbors. Here, the wealth of Bullock and Reynolds’s characters is not part of a fantasy, but simply a fact that relieves Bullock’s character because she won’t have to bother putting up with poor people stuff, like a studio apartment.

    I will resist a full synopsis. I don’t think The Proposal is worth my effort.

    However, you should know that it turns out Ryan Reynolds is a “Kennedy of Alaska,” and his character actually has Tlingit descent via his grandmother, Betty White, who spends a while chanting and doing drums in the forest wearing regalia reminiscent of First Nations. This provides an opportunity for the racist character played by Sandra Bullock to have a “charming” dance scene and butt-shake to Lil John and the East Side Boyz. This movie is the whitest thing I’ve seen in a while.

    Bear in mind when I say “the whitest thing,” I’m talking about the structures of whiteness, the things that Whiteness as a Caste in America loves. The power plays. The wealth. Colonization. Dismissal of nonwhite people as human beings.  The movie itself holds narrative approval for racist attitudes without challenging them, which is enough.

    There’s also a character played by Oscar Nuñez, who seems to be a family employee? of the Alaskan Kennedys. He’s named Ramone and stands in dubious positions of subservience. He’s a waiter at one point and a stripper at another. One nonwhite guy to serve them all? That’s not weird. His presence reminds me of the way Mickey Rooney was called upon to play a racist caricature for “comic relief” in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It’s almost like Bullock’s remarks being dismissive of nonwhite people is held by the person who wrote the screenplay and is thus incapable of writing a nonwhite character who is fully human rather than a leering caricature of servitude.

    Regardless, I don’t think cutting the racist remarks from Bullock’s character, the Tlingit art used without context, etc would have saved the screenplay.

    This screenplay is just kind of crap.

    It’s barely a romcom, for one thing. It’s a romcom the way people who don’t understand romances write romance. It’s a movie where two attractive people realize the other person is actually a human, and because straight people don’t really need to know their partners in a meaningful way, they decide to be together at that point. They show us enough interaction between Reynolds and Bullock to justify a physical attraction, and even a friendlier work environment, but they barely have enough involvement for me to believe they’ll be long-term friends.

    Neither of them markedly changes over the course of the movie. The plot changes *only* how they view one another, which takes us from bickering and drenched in toxicity to…respecting one another to do less sexual harassment (he likes grabbing her ass while she tells him not to do that).

    Bullock arrives at the “grand gesture” from Reynolds and neither of them have changed! At all! Love didn’t change anything. Nothing healed.

    This movie shallowly touches upon the beats of a romcom without understanding why the machinery works. Even tropes I ordinarily enjoy, like the heroine falling in love with the hero’s family, and the mere presence of Betty White, did not stop me from hating The Proposal all over again.

    Romance should feel seismic and inevitable, and this just felt cynical, horrible, and shallow. Also racist.

    So of course I looked up the writer. In addition to Kurtzman and Orci making their era-appropriate uncredited contributions, this is mostly written by Peter Chiarelli, “a former creative executive at MGM who decided to use his downtime after the company was bought by Sony to do some writing.”

    That is exactly the kind of person who seems like they’d have written this movie. Full insult. I’d hate to see what was in his screenplay before Kurtzman and Orci got to it.

    ~

    Turns out my 2009 impression of The Proposal was more than adequate. Including this movie in a watch of greater romcoms is a waste of time, and I walked away hating everything a little more instead of feeling hope.

    (It’s a little funny revisiting this because I’ve hated Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock since the late 00s and I couldn’t remember why. Now I remember. They suit the project well. Full insult.)

    (I didn’t post a banner image on this article because I looked it up and Disney owns The Proposal, and I’m not going to argue fair use for editorial purposes on a negative review with Disney.)

  • image credit: Lionsgate
    movie reviews

    Much Ado About Nothing (1993) ****

    Hey, nonny nonny!

    Herein lay a review for another Shakespeare adaptation starring our good noble Denzel Washington, looking even hotter than he does in The Tragedy of Macbeth. My God, man. You’d think the purring voice alone would be all the hotness that could reside within a single man’s body. Then he’s running around the countryside, riding on a horse, bouncing around with his mantitties inside that vee neck, and I’m just like. My God. Lord Denzel. (Prince Denzel?)

    Credit: Lionsgate, by way of my cell phone snapping my computer screen. oh yes i did that.

    Bear in mind that I didn’t do any research to make sure I have details about the play or movie remotely correct, and I don’t care, so please don’t correct me.

    There are several plays by Shakespeare that I know very well. I performed a small part in A Midsummer Night’s Dream as a teen. I’ve written a lesbian vampires adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. The Scottish Play is another favorite, and so is Taming of the Shrew. But Much Ado About Nothing is a blank for me. I’ve seen it performed live–once–when I was a kid–but that’s it.

    Anyway, as far as I can tell, this is Shakespeare’s Silly Bitches Play for Bitches Acting Silly. Literally, there is much ado about absolutely nothing, and we love every minute of it.

    Like there’s something about Emma Thompson arguing with a bearded guy. I don’t know, I couldn’t look at any man when she was on screen.

    I’ve got mixed feelings about Emma Thompson sometimes. She did this whole odd former-Yugoslavian accent thing for Last Christmas, which is my most recent exposure, and…I did not know what to think about that. Here, I realized I wasn’t enamored with her delivery either, but…

    Goodness. That smile. The way she just sort of flows everywhere in those gorgeous dresses, with her hair, and my lesbianness.

    wait oh my GOD is that KATE BECKINSALE?

    Image credit: Lionsgate

    I got all the way through the movie once without realizing who it was. I saw her name in the credits, then completely forgot she was meant to be there. I couldn’t pin the young actress’s look down. I’m bad at faces. I was like, “For one thing, it’s definitely NOT Mia Sara.”

    Since looking things up didn’t sound interesting, I just kept staring at this gorgeous young lady thinking, “Oh, she’s so pretty. I wonder what she’s doing these days? Is she still acting?”

    It’s KATE BECKINSALE, Sara! I just liked a more recent movie of hers! And I’m pretty sure I swore fealty to Selene the first time I ever watched Underworld!

    The number of times I have dreamed about this actress (as a character) drinking my blood is making me have such deep thoughts about the adorable young woman to blood drinking vampire milf pipeline. Like, if I had a nickel every time–

    Okay, so I’m reviewing a movie, right?

    Well, it’s a straightforward adaptation of the Shakespeare Silly Bitches Show, translated quite literally, with a sorta ambiguously historical setting and lots of Italians (?) speaking in English accents, or like Denzel Washington. If you don’t enjoy watching it, then you probably just don’t like watching Kenneth Branagh’s vacation videos. Obviously this whole thing was a ruse for hot talented people to giggle in a beautiful place wearing pretty dresses.

    Or wearing…not dresses.

    image credit: Lionsgate. nipple credit: Keanu Reeves.

    I didn’t find the movie especially interesting on most levels. It doesn’t have anything to add to the core play, as far as I can tell, except for the sheer vivacity of beautiful actors.

    So obviously it was a *great* movie and I highly recommend it completely on artistic merits.

  • essays,  movie reviews

    The John Experiment (2023) – Colors as a Visual Language

    I was invited to view The John Experiment by its co-creator and voice of IVY, Lux Karpov Kinrade. As one half of publishing and marriage duo Karpov Kinrade, Lux has a great many talents to her name: many books, a USA Today Bestselling author title, a romance game on the Dorian app, and an inclination toward illustration. Bear in mind this is only skimming the surface of this particular artist’s interests based on my rugged research (citation: “paying attention to Facebook for a few months”).

    We’ve been acquainted with one another for a while since we’re both SFF-loving indie authors of a similar “generation.” A similar interest in movies only recently came to my attention when Lux began posting about her film festival experiences and I started posting movie reviews. Turns out we’re both obsessives about a lotta similar things.

    So when she asked if I wanted to watch her movie, my tits got real jacked.

    To my pleasure, “The John Experiment” is a short film that invites interpretation–my favorite kind. I adore it when I get to watch something and then be Extremely Opinionated About What It Really Means. Hence, I decided to write an analysis of the film before asking Lux Karpov Kinrade anything about it in the style of my usual reviews.

    Spoilers for The John Experiment from this point onward. (All images credit to Lux Karpov Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov Kinrade.)


    Be aware: STROBE WARNING. The John Experiment contains explicit on-screen death by suicide. Themes of death and possible implied child abuse.

    In a focused fifteen minutes of film, The John Experiment takes us from an apparent thought experiment (can hot-button tech like AI help us heal from grief?) into a metaphoric space of punishment (do you deserve to heal from grief?).

    credit to Lux Karpov Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov Kinrade
    John is looking happier already!

    John is doing therapy in a sparse red room, like a studio apartment stripped of personality. He spends much of his time in bed. When he’s not in bed, he’s at his laptop at a small white table. The only method of physical interaction with the outside world is an unremarkable white cabinet. From this cabinet, John can retrieve his coffee or expel bodily waste. These things are cared for by IVY, an AI character voiced by Lux Karpov-Kinrade.

    Also, John seems to be trying to write an email to his wife, and it’s not going great.credit to Lux Karpov Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov Kinrade

    Ostensibly, the purpose of John and disembodied IVY semi-coexisting is for IVY to help John overcome his grief. The email changes throughout the course of the film as John begins to accept his own role in a baby’s death. He stops blaming his wife as much.

    Eventually, John even admits he should have checked on the baby instead of watching football.

    If that was the point of IVY and the red room, I guess that would be the end of the movie, huh?

    credit to Lux Karpov Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov Kinrade
    John does not feel better.

    Unfortunately John is still trapped. Initially it’s not clear whether he’s suffering from psychosis or not–is there really a baby crying?–and his distress rises as he should be healing.

    Maybe John isn’t telling the whole truth to himself, to his wife, or to the audience.

    The room isn’t getting smaller, but it’s getting “smaller” as he realizes how little control he has over the situation.

    The white cabinet permitting ingress and egress of Things to John’s room is not there for him, and exiting the room is simply not an option. John wants to go home to his wife.

    IVY says, “I’m sorry Hal, but I can’t do that,” or something to that effect. He signed a contract.

    credit to Lux Karpov Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov Kinrade
    “Of course I didn’t read the EULA! Nobody reads the EULA!”

    The therapeutic room changes in increasingly distressing ways. John cannot access the internet to talk to his wife anymore. There’s a new picture in the room: a red circle upon a white field, bold and accusatory, and here to tell half of the story with its abstract form.

    Why is such a red circle so upsetting to John?

    Why is John’s room so red?

    Hey, let’s take a look back to his video chat with his wife, Ana, at the beginning of the movie.

    credit to Lux Karpov Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov Kinrade
    One of the blue things in this film is the room Ana chats from. Also, Joe’s mug.

    These two were permitted one conversation, where Ana begged for John to get out of the program. She was bothered by how little he was allowed to take in, and even more so, how he doesn’t seem allowed “out.”

    Initially, John is not so terribly bothered being trapped in the red room.

    He still has comforting sources of blue refuge: video chat with his wife, his mug, the bedspread under which he is usually lying to do therapy, and parts of the painting. Anything signaling comfort is blue. Blue is hope and peace in Western color theory, and this applies to John’s world.

    But there is that damn red dot painting.credit to Lux Karpov Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov Kinrade

    It’s like the redness of it all doesn’t want John to find refuge. It wants him to see that he is in the red place.

    The red dot upon white can be emblematic of so many things: The nipple a baby nurses upon, the roundness of a pregnant belly, the sphere of a newborn’s head. In Western culture, red is often hostile and angry. It is a bloody evocation of John’s sins.

    Because as we established, if this was a therapeutic environment, he would have probably already made enough progress to leave.

    credit to Lux Karpov Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov Kinrade
    The blue sweater, blue jeans, and blue bedspread are no longer comforting, but cold and deathly.

    If John is in Hell, communicating with Ana in Heaven, we could read deeper meaning into this than parental neglect. John’s fury over a crying baby could be the normal frustration of a sleepless parent, the pain of a grieving parent, or a sign that this man gets *real* angry when he hears a baby cry.

    Though the size of John’s grief could belong to anyone struggling, the heightened emotional state in the end, and Ana’s position in a “blue place,” suggest a family annihilation to me. That red dot is the bloody thumbprint of his legacy, and he will never reconcile his actions enough to exit that red room.

    ~

    The John Experiment is supported primarily by a compelling, human performance by Evan Gaustad as John. This movie was produced, directed and written by Lux Karpov Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov Kinrade. This was an Official Selection at the LA Sci Fi Film Festival.

    Lux assures me this film will be available for streaming once it leaves the festival circuit, so keep an eye out for future updates.