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    essays

    Criticism Is Dead, Long Live Romance

    Earlier I wrote a mini-vent on Facebook. That little diddy went like this.

    Gotta say, it’s really disappointing to go on Letterboxd and see all the bad reviews that romcoms get. Even the better-starred reviews seem self-conscious for enjoying comedies.

    There’s a lot of movie culture that thinks simply disliking things is criticism. Let me tell you: It is not.

    You are allowed to dislike things of course, that’s fine, your reaction is your reaction and very valid.

    But criticism involves looking at a piece of media in its time and place. It means looking at its intentions. It means looking at all the artists involved and seeing how they were managed, how they were allowed to perform. What is it saying? What are the themes?

    Sometimes criticism involves *research* at some point or another, because only some of that information is visible within the movie. If you don’t know what the cinematic and cultural and political landscape was in 1995, or what 1992/3/4 comedies led into the comedies of 1995, your criticism isn’t going to be able to meet the media on its level, you know?

    I often criticize movies for being bad, but I love them. And I often hate movies that I think are critically fine. There exists within me a two-axis formation of opinions allowing for nuance that I don’t see on Letterboxd much! Or frankly, anywhere.

    Literacy is grim, y’all.

    “Literacy is grim” is one of my favorite refrains, and sometimes I might say it like “literacy is grim THESE DAYS” as if there was a period of time where people were overwhelmingly literate.

    That mythical time probably doesn’t exist, which means I’m exasperated with whole generations of humanity, and humanity didn’t really have a choice.

    It’s really not like there used to be whole swaths of General Populace who were given the kind of language & literature education you need in order to be able to “read” things critically. People who had an abundance of books and the time to read them until the point where they Understand Things and can see the whole meta level.

    I’ve got the time. I’ve got the abundance of books. And then I get annoyed that other people dare to Read Things Wrong.

    So I do recognize that this is coming from a grumpy privileged place.

    ~

    Years ago, Goodreads became a bane of many authors because it grew an outrage culture, which smothered any beginnings of an actual critical culture. (It might still be like that, but I disconnected.)

    YouTube is very predatory with its outrage culture, too, especially in terms of misogyny, which means that romcoms aren’t likely to get a fair shake.

    Letterboxd doesn’t have an algorithm, per se, and thus does not push any reviews in front of anyone. But the biggest users tend to bring their own followings in from elsewhere. If the big reviewers are coming in from YouTube…yeah.

    Even the less-outragey reviews might say, “The script is so bad and predictable,” not realizing that in most commercial genres of movie, a predictable script is kinda like a foundation you build a house on. Nobody’s really looking at the foundation, you know?

    ~

    Also, you would think people might be able to recognize a movie/tv show has a lot more than a screenwriter at work.

    You have the writer who does the screenplay, of course. (Or many writers.)

    The director writes things, too.

    They do a lot of the big picture stuff, arm-in-arm with a cinematographer who sets up the shots to fulfill the director’s dream.

    An actor is a character super-specialist who adds nuance to the story.

    My favorite writer on movies is actually the editor. The pacing of a movie is one of those things that is hard to put a finger on, but a few frames cut off here and there can radically change tone. A generous editor can save a bad acting performance by cutting it right. An incompetent editor can ruin a movie that is otherwise excellent.

    It takes a whole symphony of writers to pull off a good movie.

    So if you don’t like the “predictable” writing you might find in romance, then why aren’t you looking at the work these other storytellers did? Is there really nothing there for you?

    ~

    Sometimes the answer to that last question is actually yes. Or there’s the fact that someone dropped the ball so hard, you can’t enjoy anything else about it.

    Now we’re getting into criticism because we know *why* we have bad feelings about something.

    We have expectations for the movie. The movie has expectations for itself. A bar is set, somewhere, and you have to be able to see where the bar is to know when someone doesn’t step over it.

    ~

    What’s funny is that if people actually learned to do criticism, they might realize the reason they disliked that romcom is because they aren’t getting anything out of commercial genres right now. Maybe they just aren’t in a place to enjoy something that involves predictable tropes. That’s going to rule out a lot of stuff, but I totally get it.

    Maybe people would keep their blood pressure down and feel way less outraged if they understood things and could better navigate their media environment.

    (But then where would the clicks come from?)

    ~

    The frustrating thing is that any amount of criticism has become treated as hostile by people who wanna actually enjoy stuff.

    Criticism now has the aroma of the negativity from outrage culture.

    If you don’t like it, don’t talk about it.

    Right?

    That sounds like a really great way to kneecap culture to me. Critical response flexes muscles to maintain and further grow our literacy; critical response also shapes the culture that creates the art that comes next.

    Right now, in left-leaning spaces, the criticism I see permitted is…outrage criticism! I came across a reviewer on Letterboxd earlier who uses movies as a platform to eviscerate the morality of capitalism, on a big scale that the movie really has nothing to do with. Does it sound like I’m talking about myself? Well, when I tell you this individual surprised me, maybe that should tell you what a breathtaking wall of text I saw taking out all their anarchist rage on warmly nothingburger Single All the Way.

    It’s indeed okay to criticize things for being amoral, racist, fascist-supporting, etc. You can generally find plenty of things in the creator lens to reinforce your standpoint.

    But let me tell you, if you get tripped up on that part of the analysis, you’re missing literally *everything else* about the art. Bad morals in the society that literally made the movie you’re watching doesn’t invalidate the fact some skilled artists are in there, and their work is deserving of recognition.

    Leftists are certainly not immune to the allure of an algorithm boosting them for their outrage, though.

    That kind of algorithm-fueling reaction both misses the point and deprives the community of quality criticism. Reading well-considered reviews of other work helps all artists get better.

    ~

    It’s probably not going to change any time soon, tbh.

    Public education in my country is being attacked, including broad book bans, which makes it harder for such necessary development to happen.

    The internet is increasingly limited. It feels like a lot of net neutrality is a distant dream. All the big sites people go on have narrow algorithms that show you whatever pleases that algorithm, and as far as I know, outrage will be evergreen in algorithmic engagement.

    This is a cyberpunk dystopia all right.

    Thank the gods we’ve got romcoms in such a bleak world.

    ~

    Romance in books and movies isn’t actually defined by the central couple falling in love and kissing. That’s why a lot of stuff that ends up listed as romance isn’t actually Romance, yet why it’s hard to explain the difference.

    An HEA (like seeing the couple having a baby at the end of Four Christmases) or an HFN (like at the end of The Holiday) is required, but even the presence of an HEA/HFN may not make something feel like romance.

    Romance is about the healing ability of love and hope. (I’m going to talk about mostly romantic stories here, not romance in contemporary fiction, because it’s really complicated and dark romance exists and I’m just not as literate in that area.)

    In much the way horror is supposed to make you scared/sad/excited, and comedy should make you laugh at some point, romance usually makes you feel better. The story believes that love can make everything work out, somehow. There’s often a wish fulfillment element. You step into the fantasy that everything can be all right and truly believe it.

    Something may also have a lot of the tropes of romcom (like My Best Friend’s Wedding) but lack in hope completely. There’s an HEA between one couple, but the heroine has to obliterate herself in a wildly unhealthy relationship to do it. You’ve Got Mail is truly a romcom, but it’s one that feels askew because the heroine loses so much and never gains it back.

    Something like Last Holiday feels like a romcom even though the plot is almost exclusively about the heroine’s solo emotional journey because it is drenched in hope.

    ~

    Why does that matter?

    If you take a step back to look at the role storytelling plays in the whole existence of humanity, you gotta think it’s necessary to our survival in some way…right? We’ve been doing storytelling since the very beginning.

    It’s a great way to communicate information with one another. Some of our oldest known fiction is just writing down parables passed down from generations through oral tradition. We’ve been teaching with stories for as long as we’ve been telling them. Our ability to network human knowledge in such a way is absolutely intrinsic to our survival.

    That hasn’t really changed.

    Stories now may be commodified up the wazoo, and we increasingly rely on information storage outside of ourselves, but we’re still communicating something important to our survival by telling stories.

    Hope helps people survive.

    If you don’t think there’s a chance things can get better, you won’t try to make it better.

    And the only way it gets better is if you try.

    Romance gives us something to feel hopeful about, and it gives us a mental playground where we believe things will improve. That alone is enough.

    When you’re hurting, a story modeling hope can be like a bandaid and a kiss on the forehead.

    We need to be reminded that life isn’t just the hurting parts.

    Critical killjoys don’t want to engage with the role that romance plays in modeling that kind of happiness, but that doesn’t change the fact that romance is doing it anyway. The whole genre is just sitting there, waiting to embrace you on a bad day.

    You can keep scoffing at it because it reminds you of your aunt sitting around watching Hallmark all Thanksgiving weekend, but maybe someday you’re going to want to remember your aunt, and Thanksgiving, and the times you were in the same place together, and those stories of hope will remind you that good things can indeed happen again.

    Romance keeps us going until we reach the better tomorrow, which is waiting for us. I’m pretty sure we’ll get there if we drop everything to race across this bridge and confess our love to the woman we fell in love with in Paris.

  • sara reads the feed

    SRF 11: Stefon’s worst ideas, more stupid hair, the Scream shake-up continues

    Boy I watched a lotta movies and wrote a lotta reviews yesterday.

    • Last Holiday was my genuine favorite. I cried happy tears and I don’t often do that. (Although I do cry a lot, generally.)
    • Single All the Way made me say AWWW out loud a lot and it was almost my favorite. Definitely wins for hottest love interest.
    • I truly did not expect to enjoy The Sweetest Thing so much, nor did I expect it to be so raunchy.
    • On the other hand, the new movie by Please Don’t Destroy was (warmly) just what I expected.

    I don’t know if today is going to be like that because it’s American Thanksgiving.

    I’m not sure I’ll actually be doing anything for American Thanksgiving. My in-laws typically cook for the holiday (very kindly) and I’m still not vaccinated for the year. I keep forgetting since I don’t usually leave the house. Since socializing and arguably the worst holiday ever are already not my favorite things, and I have a chronically low sense of obligation to extended family in regards to holidays, I might end up at home with more movies.

    I feel sad kinda “skipping” Thanksgiving because it always sticks out as a special day, though, and the years blur together more as I age. I don’t like turkey. I don’t love socializing. The whole pilgrim thing is an offensively silly myth. My kids don’t enjoy it either, so I can’t enjoy them. Why should I feel sad? But I dooooo~

    ~

    It’s good that everyone understands that I’m not the kind of wife/mom who has any interest whatsoever in spending all day preparing an elaborate harvest meal that everyone mostly eats out of habit.

    ~

    Variety: Seth Meyers Details ‘Stefon’ Movie That Never Got Made

    If they were going to approach it from the random comedy angle, then I’m glad they didn’t do it. Neither Hader nor Meyers (in this article) seem to understand that fans of Stefon didn’t just love him because Hader cracked. A whole lot of us were totally into Stefon hitting on Meyers and the little storyline the two of them played out casually (and! the! wedding!). A Stefon movie should have been a gay romcom about a wild partyboy who’s bad at his job but falls in love with this stuffy anchor type.

    Killing Seth off at the beginning is a funny thought but definitely would have made me not care about the movie. James Franco? Oh dear.

    ~

    Also from Variety: How Letterboxd Captured Young Moviegoers–and Martin Scorcese

    I’m not a young moviegoer anymore, I guess, since I’m President Age, but I’m on Letterboxd and adore it. I can’t say the reason I adore it for the reason everyone else does, but: it’s a site that loves movies but puts the social discoverability secondary, or tertiary, meaning you can pretty much *only* see content from people you care about. It feels like Old Internet and it’s magical. I’ll be here as long as the vibe lasts.

    Alsø alsø, Tim Burton says absolutely no revisiting “Nightmare Before Christmas.”

    ~

    As a mom who loves her two irl offspring very dearly, this story about Zack & Cody from The Suite Life refusing to tell fatphobic jokes about their TV mom is so cute.

    I’d be horrified that they were writing fat jokes about a pregnant actress, but that was pretty standard for the era, I’m afraid.

    ~

    Publisher’s Weekly: Workers at Two More B&N Stores Vote to Unionize

    Woo hoo!

    ~

    Al Jazeera English: Four US-Canada crossings shut after blast at Rainbow bridge checkpoint

    US/Canada checkpoints tend to be lowkey nothingburgers, so I was afraid this would turn into security theater.

    But a more recent update was less worrying. I guess this was some horrible accident. My condolences to the couple in the car, who didn’t survive, and their family.

    ~

    Video from AJE: Who is Dutch far-right politician Geert Wilders?

    Ugh. It’s yet another dude leading a localized iteration of the contemporary fascist movement who has stupid hair. From a post I made a few days ago:

    I’m not insulting him for having stupid hair, to be clear; I’m saying that the modern fascist movement often has leaders with hair that differs from what is considered business appropriate. Trump’s hair is a distinctive feature, as was Boris Johnson’s.

    This is one way that far-right leaders shoot for populist appeal. They aren’t like the guys in the system, so they’ll be able to change it. You can trust them! They have stupid hair!

    This particular stupid-haired guy is leaning heavily on Islamophobia for his platform.

    ~

    THR: Melissa Barrera Speaks Out After ‘Scream VII’ Firing: ‘I condemn hate’

    “I believe a group of people are NOT their leadership, and that no governing body should be above criticism,” Barrera wrote Wednesday — a reference to posts she had written criticizing the Israeli government. “I pray day and night for no more deaths, for no more violence, and for peaceful co-existence. I will continue to speak out for those that need it most and continue to advocate for peace and safety, for human rights and freedom. Silence is not an option for me.”

    The initial flutter around her firing was weird, but it feels clearer now that the studio has made a real bad decision.

    ~

    From Psyche, I learned that the adult version of pedagogy is androgogy. Huh.

  • source: Columbia Pictures
    movie reviews

    Review: The Sweetest Thing (2002) ****

    If you’ve been aware of my existence for longer than five minutes, you know I’m a useless sapphic; if you’ve ever seen The Sweetest Thing, you know I’m going to complain that this isn’t a romcom where the best friends end up together. Christina Applegate and Cameron Diaz have the chemistry of two “straight” girls who are actually perfect for each other, madly in love, incessantly homoerotic, and I’m supposed to believe either of them have any need for men.

    (Selma Blair can’t end up with Applegate or Diaz because she needs to end up with me.)

    This movie has so much of this blessed trio frolicking around in states of partial dress, or no dress at all, and I just sort of sat around drooling and having zero thoughts. I’m convinced the volume of boobies was intended to disable people like me from having a single critical thought. Or a coherent thought, for that matter. Boobs.

    ~

    By the way, I am a feminist.

    ~

    In “The Sweetest Thing,” we spend a whole lot of time at a straight people breeding ground, which is the brightest, cleanest, quietest night club you’ve ever seen.

    Here, we may observe heterosexual mating habits. Predatory behavior is observed in both genders, wherein gender is presumed to correlate closely to conformation of genitalia, and sexual dimorphism is high. Females of the species dress in flamboyant colors with dropped waists, tunic shirts, and weird big jewelry. Males of the species wear garish veneers and spare jewelry (wrist watches, chain necklaces) to indicate the wealth.

    Interactions between prospective mates primarily occur on the dance floor and near the bar. Only in this communally gendered region are social interactions considered to have a sexual charge. Behavior in bathrooms cannot have sexual connotation, as demonstrated by the scene with many women fondling Christina Applegate’s breasts by the sinks. Like, am I, an innocent cinema anthropologist, supposed to be *not* gay about that?

    The assertion that same-gender sexuality is intended for the consumption of men may be inferred by the fact that Applegate only turns a suggestive situation with Diaz sexual when observed by a man. As with the metaphoric tree falling unobserved in a forest, can one woman’s face in another woman’s lap truly be gay if there is no man to have a boner about it?

    ~

    I love a good screwball comedy, honestly, and The Sweetest THing is a raunchy screwball sex comedy of the highest order. There is a romance, and it’s a comedy, so I suppose it’s also a raunchy screwball romcom. But the rom is the most boring part of it. My enjoyment peaked when something weird and gross was happening because my sibling and I got to shout at the TV. “No! Don’t scratch it! DON’T TASTE IT!”

    Comedy is a communal experience, and this movie was meant to be seen in a group of your own dumbass friends. Which of your friends would drive three and a half hours in her underwear in case she might hook you up with the love of your life? If you know that girl, watch this movie with her.

    The actresses deliver hilarious performances with outstanding chemistry. It’s gross and weird and genuinely sweet. Also, boobies.

    ~

    On a tangential note, it seems like every new-to-me movie I’ve loved lately got terrible reviews in its time. What’s up with that? Is my taste that bad? Have tastes evolved? Is it easier to be generous in evaluation with the perspective of time? Or maybe is everyone wrong and I’m just that good at picking unappreciated gems at complete random off streaming websites? I’ll let you decide.

    (Image credit: Columbia Pictures)

  • credit: Netflix
    movie reviews

    Review: Single All the Way (2021) *****

    I haven’t made all the right decisions in my life. Not once have I been cockblocked by Jennifer Coolidge, nor was I interrupted in a breakup by Jennifer Coolidge hitting on my new ex. I can’t imagine anything gayer than these events happening. Jennifer Coolidge is a unicorn shaped sort of like a human. Rainbows spill forth when she staggers on screen and opens her mouth. Comic genius looks like Stiffler’s mom, but also, she is somehow the embodiment of gay camp, and she’s not in my life. I wish she’d spit on my shoes. I’m going to make a Task Rabbit where the only task I will take is being willing to let Jennifer Coolidge spit on my shoes.

    Coolidge Cockblocking happens in Single All the Way, which is an hour and a half-ish sequence of the most incredibly gay things you can imagine in between Task Rabbit commercials.

    Spontaneous fashion shoot in a wood pile giggling with your gay bff? Picking up extra gig work on vacation because you’re a poor-ass homo living between children’s book advances? Wearing sweaters with really long scarves? Taking over Jennifer Coolidge’s Christmas pageant to buff it like you’re Queer Eyeing your family? Secretly being mutually in love with your bff for years and never doing anything about it?

    All so very, very gay.

    I’d really like to thank Task Rabbit for sponsoring the gays.

    Oh, did you ask me about Task Rabbit? Haha, so kind for you to ask.

    Well, there’s this thing where movies require financing, and if your pitch is, “I want to make the homosexual version of a Hallmark small town romance,” you might have to make some odd compromises in order to see that through. Like promising a gig work app to have a significant amount of real estate in your story visually and in actual plot.

    This is zero judgment. God, if this is what it takes to get my cozy gay small town shit, then fine! Fine. They can fall in love wearing Task Rabbit shirts. It’s not quite like that (okay, sometimes it’s like that) but the rest of the movie is so engrossing that I actually keep forgetting I’m actually watching a commercial.

    When we aren’t learning how the hunkiest guy in the movie is *probably* this hunky and compassionate because he works with Task Rabbit, it’s a really good small town Hallmark-style romance! Wish fulfillment and comfortable feelings, like a six-pack nestled comfortably behind a designer chunky knit, are everything that I want from a Christmas watch, and we get wish fulfillment in spades. Do you have fantasies like My Family Understands The Gay Thing And Is Very Supportive? I mean, who doesn’t?

    It’s a uniformly good thing when the family is all together. No sniping, no jabs, just love all around. The family’s mostly on the team where they want our lead to hook up with his best friend, but Mom wants him to hook up with her personal trainer, and it creates this playful atmosphere where everyone is too invested in the best way possible.

    So yes, this is also another romcom where one of the people falls in love with the other romantic lead’s family. And it’s a friends to lovers. And it’s turning away from the big city life to embrace the dreams you were always too afraid to pursue, like opening a plant shop with your bff-turned-lover. (A plant store! I told you, Single All the Way is full of all the gayest things ever!)

    But mostly it’s about Jennifer Coolidge’s cleavage, I think. I really can’t come up with a reason not to give this five stars.

    Thanks Task Rabbit. This was a really nice extended commercial with homo kissing.

    (Image credit: Netflix)

  • a brown dog lying on a brown kitchen floor
    Uncategorized

    Constancy of Contact

    If you’re on any of my social media, I hope you’ve noticed that I’m linking away from that social media more often than I used to. Those links should be bringing you here, to Egregious.

    I stepped away from self-publishing novels a few years ago now. I’ve put out a couple books since, and I’m still writing a ton, but I leaped off the treadmill of production that a lot of content creators continue jogging on.

    Though I’ve talked about that decision a lot elsewhere (and don’t feel like rehashing it at the moment), it never really answers the question of what I’m actually going to do next, because I don’t know what I’m going to do next.

    Quitting self-publishing isn’t like quitting another job or selling a business. I still have all the assets, like contacts and a reputation, if you want to consider those things as assets. I’ve got a literary agent to collaborate with sales to tradpub, though I’ve had two books bounce off the process. There is some quantity of people who associate my name with self-publishing broadly and urban fantasy specifically (and if you came to me through Tarot Witches, you know me as a smut peddler par excellence).

    I’m lucky that some people still care about what I’m up to.

    And I am up to…something, I guess.

    A lot of that is artwork, like digital illustrations, mixed media, or fiber work. This year, I have been doing a whole bunch of movie reviewing and watching. I’ve always been a huge movie fan of course. I just didn’t really have the skills I needed to satisfactorily remark on movies until recently. (The pandemic tossed me down a depression hole where I spent months doing nothing but Watching Things and my analysis skills sure got developed.)

    I’m still not prepared to be Working around any of these things, exactly. I can do the labor of writing articles for myself. The effort of packaging, maybe a bit. (The site is fun.) But marketing remains vastly distant from my interests, and I have a bad relationship with it after self-publishing, and I don’t think there’s any kind of self-employment that isn’t going to demand marketing myself.

    Maybe I’ll be ready to Work again someday. I hope I won’t completely lose the eyes and ears of the online network I share: the fellow creatives, authors, and readers who are Real People to me, even if they are Very Small and Mostly On My Phone. If I need to Work again, I’ll need help.

    So by having a unified website like this, I can hopefully gather some of this community around in case I do a thing someday.

    And if I don’t do a thing, maybe there’s a chance that just enjoying myself will turn my career in an unexpected direction. I talk a lot about hope and fantasies when I’m analyzing romcoms, and part of that is because I love living inside my head with my own fantasies. If I keep my heart open to potentialities, if I keep committing my time to stuff I’m passionate about, I think maybe opportunities will make themselves happen. Possibly I don’t have to be all crazy and intense about Forcing Myself To Work and things will just…work out.

    Delusional? Oh, maybe. But I’m not going to borrow stress from the future. Right now I can spend my time pursuing stuff that makes me happy, and it’s all going to appear here, on Egregious.

    Hence I hope you will follow me. Use an RSS feed reader to keep up! Sign up in the sidebar so you can leave comments and get emails. Let’s stay in touch in case I Do Something or You Do Something. Let’s be a community, a little bit.

  • movie reviews

    Review: Last Holiday (2006) *****

    Normally, I’m the last person who would get into an inspirational romance, but tis the season for clicking on movie thumbnails that look vaguely like holiday romcoms. I went into Last Holiday knowing it’s only a Queen Latifah comedy. I was pleased to find a movie that fully embodies the holiday cozies that I seek during my yearly holiday movie thing. (art credit: me, Sara)

    So here’s the sitch: Latifah has been working hard at a retail job for a decade, putting her trust in God that as long as she keeps herself right, everything will turn out right. She’s got a diary of potentials that includes a fabulous life full of vacations and love (with hunky coworker LL Cool J). But first she’s gotta work hard, help out her sister and neighbors, and keep going to church. Things have struck a sorta dull rhythm until our gorgeous heroine’s life gets shaken up by the misdiagnosis.

    The idea has potential for getting depressing – I can ruminate on dying without help, thank you – but the emotional moments are strong without becoming overwhelming. It’s extremely fair for anyone to melt down a little bit over a terminal diagnosis. But Latifah’s character permits herself few moments of self-pity. Her relationship with herself is strong, as is her relationship with God, which doesn’t exactly waver but does often prompt Latifah to Give Him the Eye and ask, “Really?” The whole “Why me?” chorus she shares with her church community is heart-wrenching.

    But still, it’s mostly light, and there’s a lot of quality class commentary going on. Retail’s a job with a lot of disrespect coming straight from the managers who don’t recognize you. Latifah’s main method of survivalism has been learning to keep her mouth shut. She’s totally lost her voice.

    Once she realizes that being good in life hasn’t led to the best outcome, she decides to stop deferring her joy. Latifah cashes out on her assets to embark on a luxury European vacation. She also finds her voice. She meets everyone with complete honesty–but also complete compassion. And the world around her heals a little bit for it. Just a little. But oh boy does it feel good.

    Bear in mind that this movie is loosely adapted from a 1950s flick starring Alec Guinness; this screenplay was originally intended for John Candy (with Carl Reiner directing no less!). I bet you can imagine the pure heart that is written into our hero/ine, then–along with strong physical comedy demands that Latifah meets wonderfully.

    I mean it as the highest praise when I say that I think Latifah did as well as Candy could have in bringing her entire heart to the character, but she wears it on her outside more than I think Candy might have, and fairly so; this is a working class character who goes on vacation and immediately is forced to deal with her corporation’s boss. Like, can’t she relax before she dies?

    If you’re familiar with the trope at play here, you know the movie’s going to have a happy ending. In fact, it’s pretty uniformly happy. I love it when romantic comedies take an opportunity to place us in a fantasyland that gives humanity some credit. People really are generally nice! Or at least, they want to be. Even the billionaire boss has his glimmering moments of humanity, and Latifah’s character is open-hearted enough to witness it, even if she’s got the boundaries of steel to protect herself too.

    The romance here is an important relationship but not the most central one; I’d argue that’s between Latifah and God. But Hunky LL Cool J performs fabulously as a man whose job is to be head-over-heels for a woman as perfect as Latifah. That man faces a fear of flying to hike across an avalanche to make sure he can tell her that he loves her before she dies. Like, oof.

    She also befriends an unexpected but charming Gerard Depardieu, and their chemistry is so good, I actually kinda wanted them to end up together. Can she have all of them? Giancarlo Esposito too. She’s way too good for him, and she’s right to turn him down, but also I argue that he is very cute and maybe she can fix him idk. This is a fantasy of hope, right?

    I’m totally putting this on my yearly circulation, right with other ultra-cozies like While You Were Sleeping and When Harry Met Sally.

    (image credit: Paramount Pictures)

  • source: NBC
    movie reviews

    Review: Please Don’t Destroy: The Treasure of Foggy Mountain (2023) ****

    “You know what movie is so funny but nobody talks about? Popstar by Andy Samberg,” say I, a Millennial, who tends to think SNL was the funniest when I was in my early twenties for some reason.

    Ten years from now, we will hear a Z or Zennial saying, “You know what movie is so funny but nobody talks about?” and it will be this, in much the way this will be the funniest-ever era of SNL for them. “Will Farrell? I have no idea who that is. Marcelo Hernandez, on the other hand…”

    Funny and well-paced, but somehow unremarkable, The Treasure of Foggy Mountain is one of those comedies most likely to be adored by stoned teenagers for decades to come.

    In interviews, the creators said “Treasure” is meant to feel like Goonies, but there’s a special distinction here: This is a view of Goonies that sees Goonies as an ancient classic predating their era, not a Goonies that originated from their childhood. Any of these guys might tell us about how much their parents loved Goonies as a kid, so they watched the DVD rerelease, or something like that.

    It feels different.

    It’s impressive to keep hold of the viral internet shorts feeling for an entire narrative without getting annoying. I think the pace would satisfy someone used to watching internet playlists for hours instead of movies. But the pacing also slows enough to avoid becoming intolerable for someone patient enough to wait two hours to download a 15mb video clip with the resolution of a potato.

    My favorite Gen Z influence is how casually fat women are included in the cast. There is zero acknowledgment, textually or in the director’s vision, of the fact 2/3 of the lead women are fat, and not like Hollywood in the 90s fat where Hugh Grant is snogging a woman with a hint of butt. These two park rangers are just stupid assholes like the three nerdy weeds they’re chasing. Hot, horny, stupid, useless, fat girl park rangers? Have I ever been so represented in a movie before?

    ~

    It kinda seems like this generation of creators are obsessed with cults.

    In “Treasure” Bowen Yang is the cutest most flawless cult leader to walk the Earth, as Bowen Yang is the cutest most flawless anything to play anything any time he shows up. His cult is hilariously scary. This is not the only cult I’ve seen in recent culture, and the more I think about it, the more I can name.

    Midsommar was one of the more enjoyable cult movies recently; I posited that Mandy was the nighttime-flavored version of Midsommar. Ready or Not and Get Out give us whole family cults too.

    Cult of the Lamb has become a fabulously famous indie game, and I’ve been playing Cultist Simulator for years.

    TV shows give us cults all the time, like in Yellowjackets, The Path, Big Love, and American Horror Story Season Whatever.

    We live in a time where cults can be so mainstream, the highest grossing movies of the year might star An Actual Cultist, the president might be a cultist, your parents might have gotten turned into cultists, and we have all known multiple people who got sucked into a cult selling candles/soap/makeup/knives/whatever.

    Obviously some of the groups I’m bringing to mind aren’t explicitly cults, but rather some kind of socially predatory system that makes folks toxic to be around and may endanger their lives (but almost always their bank accounts).

    I’ve got a theory why cult-like presences are so common in America right now, and it’s pretty simple: Humans are social animals that need communities to survive. We are never meant to function independently, or even in small cells (like a couple with a child). We don’t have the tools to do it. But we’re all poor as hell and working way too much to build communities with our neighbors–not to mention, who’s getting along with their neighbors right now? So we just get lonely. Some very basic part of our soul gets sick. And then it’s really easy to take advantage of the sickness.

    Predatory megachurches, pyramid schemes, fad gyms, extreme political discussion boards, and other places are happy to sell us a substitute to the communities we might naturally grow if we weren’t always running around playing survivalist games, working long hours to pay medical bills.

    So even if we haven’t tripped into one of these cult-like settings, we know people who have, and all of us are curious about wtf that looks like.

    That’s my theory anyway.

    In The Treasure of Foggy Mountain, the cult exists in the story to replace one character’s sense of community. His friends are growing up and moving on. The one who looks drawn by Tim Burton is joining a church and getting a house with his girlfriend; the one who looks like Conan O’Brien’s son is trying to inherit Conan O’Brien’s business. With nobody else willing to put up with some guy whose penis occasionally escapes his pants in full public view, there is only the not-so-loving arms of a cult to turn to.

    In the end, friendship wins, because that’s the whole theme of the movie. This is so explicit that they might have a random character beatbox about friendship and treasures to propel the plot onward. It’s not subtle, but subtlety is overrated.

    I’ve wasted a lot more time watching movies with many fewer laughs per minute by SNL alums than this.