The Simpsons Movie

The Simpsons Movie
Dir. Andrew Silverman, 2007

(Warning: Major grumpitude ahead)

Matt Groening claims that the twenty-year wait to bring The Simpsons to the big screen was merely a matter of waiting for the right script to come along, but I don’t believe him. Movies based on TV shows immediately have three things going for them on the business end (brand recognition) and one thing against them on the artistic end (the notion that the audience is paying for something that they normally get for free). In the first few years of the show, it is doubtless that Fox would have put immense pressure on the Simpsons crew to make a movie based on the beloved show. After all, The Simpsons had already been licensed for every other conceivable merchandising product. But, (and this is just speculation, of course) Groening and company must have taken notice from that a movie based on The Simpsons would have made a pretty concrete shark jumping moment for the show (not that the term jumping the shark existed back then). If the movie had bombed, it would have killed the momentum of what was perhaps the best winning streak in television history.

It was a noble gesture, but the world of the late ‘00s is a much different one than the early ‘90s. Pop culture adaptations have gone from cheap cash ins to Hollywood’s stock in trade. The South Park movie proved that not all TV adaptations were mud. South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut was not just a quality flick, but also moved the show in a much more satirical direction. As its Peabody winning credentials rose, the Simpsons’ spiraled down. Considering the caliber of his writing staff, Matt Groening probably didn’t have much shark jumping to worry. But as the show limped into double digit seasons, shark jumping was simply inevitable. By now, the Simpsons has jumped the shark so many times the show now spends most of its episodes making fun of its shark jumping.

If the first two points above give reasons that Groening and Company needn’t have been worried that a Simpsons movie would sink the show, the last point shows that, at this point, a big screen Simpsons couldn’t possibly be anything other than a ninety-minute widescreen episode of the show. The South Park movie, which was released within two years of the show’s premier, largely succeeded because it transformed the show into a grandiose musical parody. The Simpsons couldn't get away with something like that. At least fifty episodes have some character spontaneously bursting into song. With 400 episodes the show has done every conceivable storytelling form imaginable multiple times, from epic battles to short stories to avant garde freakouts. Even if the movie had managed to find some sort of fictional style not picked clean by the show, it would still fail to register as fresh because, by steadily breaking new ground for over twenty years, the show has immunized its audience to innovation.

But then, even a 90 minutes Simpsons episode wouldn’t be anything to scoff at, right? After all, the first ten years of the show are just about the best TV ever. Unfortunately, The Simpsons Movie steers closer to the show’s second decade excesses rather than its first decade genius. All items on the episode template are covered: from an exposition that has nothing to do with the plot to a nondescript government figure with a Springfield-destroying conspiracy to a visit to some far off land. There’s even a cute boy for Lisa to swoon over. The movie’s abandonment of that plot thread would come off as lazy in the show, but in a movie that’s supposedly been labored over for several years, it’s disheartening. There is nothing in the movie that hasn’t been done better by the show. And some of the jokes, such as Homer getting knocked between a giant rock and a giant building labeled “Hard Place, are so ancient that they wouldn’t pass muster in the show’s first season. When Bart wears a black bra over his head to goof on everyone’s favorite soul-sucking corporate mascot, it’s a reminder of how the show’s incisive satire has mellowed into blithe one-liners. In fact, the best humor in the movie comes from the gags that implicitly acknowledge that this is 90 minute episode of the movie (“Thou shalt turn off thy cell phone”). The last decade of the Simpsons has shown the writers doing things with the show just because they can and the movie is no different. So, Otto tokes up, Dr. Nick is impaled, and, certainly the movie’s biggest ush for immortality, flagrant cartoon nudity.

The success of a pop culture movie adaptation is two thirds good filmmaking and one third pandering nostalgia for the fan. It’s not Michael Bay’s direction that lit fire in the hearts of men-children across the country, but his (surprisingly good) chops have made Transformers into this summer’s movieplex rallying point. And sure, when Bart and Homer sail over the Springfield gorge at the end of the movie, I cheered for Homer to make it. But, then I realized it was funnier the first time around.

Who Killed the Electric Car?

Who Killed the Electric Car?
2006, directed by Chris Paine

Ah, how time marches on. There's a lengthy passage in Who Killed the Electric Car? about how pie in the sky hydrogen fuel cell technology has been used by the Bush administration and the rest of the fuel cartel as a public distraction to already viable alternative fuel technologies such as the batteries in the electric cars. The movie then explains how in the 90's the government started taking steps to force car companies to develop electric cars. But then the car companies spent all of that decade whining and complaining and then Bush swept in and gave them incentives to make Hummers and SUVs (groan). But then comes the most interesting part. The laws of the 90's convinced the Japanese auto makers that electric cars were the future of the automobile industry, so they ended up putting all their resources into developing electric cars. So today, everyone and their grandma wants a Prius, GM's hybrids get half as many miles to the gallon as Toyotas, and the Hydrogen car is still limited to a few gas stations in California. Then the movie talks about how hybrids are the future and that within a few years hybrids that can be plugged in will be on the market.

Now, I don't want to seem like a capitalist apologist, but it seems like, in the market worked. The GM EV1 may have been shredded into a million pieces, but the electric vehicle technology found its way to the forefront of the auto industry anyway. A hybrid may be inferior to a pure electric car, but its a step in the right direction and according to the film, plug-in models will be in the showroom in just a few yeras. So all the strong arm tactics the auto industry pulls throughout Who Killed the Electric Car?, while sad in their shortsightedness, really just highlight the idiocy of the auto industry for not sensing a good thing when they had it. Sure the demand for clean air vehicles was substantially lower in the mid 90's than it is today (cue 9/11 reference), but simply, GM and Ford had the opportunity to be at the forefront of the market and today, they doubly lag behind the Japanese. And that means that Who Killed the Electric Car? works less as a propaganda piece and more as a ironic lament to American arrogance (There's no shortage of those).

There's also a bit near the beginning about solar powered cars. I hope GM and Ford don't drop the ball on that one. They probably will, though.

Transformers

Transformers
dir. Michael Bay, 2007


Turns out Michael Bay isn't the devil. Watching Transformers (and catching a bit of The Island the other day), I even got the sense that he's developed his own signature style. That is to say he's developed Tony Scott's style (who developed Michael Mann's style). He's even lengthened his edits from on every two seconds to one every seven seconds (which falls to five in the action scenes). But even more important than the visual style is the revelation that Michael Bay has developed a sense of humor. Sure there was always a little bit of the standard humor of the genres Bay traversed in, but usually was more dependent on the actors than anything Bay did (my favorite line from The Rock "Losers try their best, winners fuck the prom queen" is made all the more funny because it's coming from Sean Connery's mouth). A little relaxation in tone allows Bay to up the energy of the more mundane scenes of the movie's first half involving lonely Shia Lebeouf and Megan Fox (whose sure to be Maxim fodder by the end of the month, if she's not already). Before all the tomfoolery about the cube and the mysterious government organizations that not even the President (hilarious Bush insertion) and Secretary of Defense know about (Independence Day anyone?) show up, Transformers has a ball showing how awesome having a car that transforms into three story tall robot would be to a seventeen-year-old dork who wants to impress the hottest chick in school.
Once all the battles begin, however, the movie takes a turn for the serious and you can see the less geeky members of the cast straining to deliver loving speeches about taking stand and showing loyalty to a bunch of alien robots. The special effects are amazing (I can't even imagine how much work had to go into those transformation scene), but Bay kind of loses track of his explosions in the end battle scene (a key death is show almost in passing). The characters start to fumble too. Who cares whether Ms. Fox has a juvie record? There's fucking alien robots from outer space shooting rockets at each other!
Also, I know comic sensibilities require the guns to be big and the breasts even bigger, but I grimace whenever a super-genius government scientist is played by a smoking hot person who looks like she spent more time on her hair than her education. I know that undoubtedly there are a few superhot chicks in top secrete laboraties somewhere, but whenever I see one in a movie, I can't help but think that the actress in the role cringing as she talks about firewalls or chemical reactions or whatever.
Post script two. The hot chick who loves to work on cars. I would say this is the number one fantasy of 95% of American men ages 10-89.

You're the Man Now Dawg

Entrapment
dir. Jon Amiel, 1999
Seen a couple weeks ago on HBO

I was pretty surprised that I dug this movie, but that probably has more to do with the hour of day when I watched it than anything else. I think for every hour past midnight, expectations are lowered three notches.

The key to my enjoyment of this movie is that cops and robbers are battling over art. Whenever a heist movie involves art rather than money, its charm gets an immediate boost, especially if there are veteran actors involved. Instead of focusing on anything of real value, an art heist movie's elaborate thievery is set up as a means to cure billionaire boredom. I haven't seen any of the Oceans movies, but I imagine their appeal is similar to this smooth ride. Everyone's just out for a stroll, having a good time, dodging lasers, glorifying larceny. Adding to the movie's good nature is the ridiculous countdown-to-the-millenium plot that somehow involves priceless gold masks, the banks of Southeast Asia, and a Buddha man who sells night vision style goggles. In 1999 some people were genuinely freaked out about the millenium bug's capability to bring down civilization. The rest of us knew that it was put to better use in action movies.

However, this is an anonymous studio flick, so the movie's slickness never lets the action get too crazy-fun. I suppose nobody involved wanted to see Sean Connery naked much, so the audience is spared any lame tacked-on romantic tension (there is a sort of romantic getaway at the end, but it could also just be seen as a gesture between two friends). But the filmmakers couldn't just let Catherine Zeta-Jones' derriere go to waste, so there's several semi-erotic scenes cut to soft jazz full of several in-scene dissolves that made me think I was watching something else on HBO several hours after midnight. If the movie had let itself go a little bit more, it might be something worth really watching. Alas, it is resigned to the watchable, forgettable bin, destined to be watched primarily on TBS.

(It occurred to me that this was the movie where Catherine Zeta-Jones made her name. Of course The Mask of Zorro was the movie that established her, but Entrapment was the first movie that she anchored as a box office power. Not that it's very interesting. But I've always been interested in what movies broke which star.)

100 Perfect Reasons To Not Do Anything

The American Film Institute celebrated a tenth anniversary edition of its Top 100 movies list with a TV special this last Thursday, which I forgot to record. D'oh. Maybe it'll be replayed on Bravo or something? Surprisingly, the critical call to arms was fairly muted. The various additions to the list and rearrangement to the rankings led the AFI to credit itself for reigniting the discussion of film history and specifically the film canon--and it certainly did, but mostly about how egregiously bad the list was, which of course meant lots and lots of corrective lists and lists to correct those lists. The last ten years have probably contained more lists than at any time in human history and I'm pretty sure Entertainment Weekly is responsible for at least a quarter of them. Of course, the AFI has done its part, releasing increasingly stupid follow up lists. If the AFI has an ultimate legacy, it will have been to inspire America to organize and compartimentalize itself more carefully. So, the new list has been greeted with a yawn (followed by a groan) and if the AFI was expecting more they have only themselves to blame. But, if Sight and Sound can list every ten years, why not the AFI? And of course, the lists support TV specials which support the AFI which is good organization.

Most of the criticism has inevitably settled on how safe and predictable the list has been. Keith Phipps of the AV Club pretty much sums up that viewpoint.

Sure, most of the movies were good but where was the guiding philosophy? The
films seemed to have been picked because very few could object to the choices.
It was like a list of best ice cream flavors that touched on chocolate, vanilla,
and maybe mint but would never acknowledge anything so off-the-beaten-path as
pistachio, much less New York Superfudge.

But I think if you're going to poll 1,500 people on the best films of all time, then a list like this should be considered safe and predictable. When lists like this come out, they're not really the 100 greatest movies of all time. Such a subjective claim as that only belongs to the individual. The cumulative effect of the voting panel of 1,500 means that these aren't the greatest movies of all time, just the 100 movies generally agreed to be considered the greatest of all time. If a movie were to suddenly pop onto the list I would find the voting suspect and wonder what kind of agendas were behind the voting. For example, the only real out of the blue selection this time was Sophie's Choice, which made me think for a second that it got through because, as with the Oscars, Hollywood tends to reward Holocaust movies. But a look at the rest of the list reveals Schindler's List as the only other Holocaust film on the list. To use another less stereotypical example, I suspect Intolerance was voted in over The Birth of a Nation was a reaction to the latter's blatant racism.

Agendas aren't necessarily bad things. I support every effort to give women filmmakers, minority filmmakers, gay filmmakers, (fill in the blank) filmmakers more of a voice. But gosh darn it, if a list is claiming to be the one hundred greatest films of all time, I want to see what's honestly considered to be the greatest films of all time. A middle of the road list like that is a better representation of today's cinema voice. If anything, a vanilla list like the one's proffered by the AFI can only call more attention to the ignorance of women and minority and (fill in the blank) filmmakers, by people remarking upon their absence.

In any case, if you're going to poll, 1,500 people, you should expect the results to be somewhat middle of the road. But even though this list is pretty middle of the road, I don't really count it to be a pure representation of the top 100 movies. Just as they did in 1998, the AFI has taken upon itself to write off 99% of cinema history and make a ballot of 400 movies. So, this isn't a list of the best movies of all time, it's really a list of the best movies on this list that the AFI has prepared. I'm not positive the list would be that much different if they were to allow people to simply vote for their favorites. Ostensibly this was done for the benefit of the voter, so they wouldn't have to go to the trouble of actually thinking about what their favorite movies are. But since write-in votes can essentially be discounted, the AFI has taken upon itself to write what it deems suitable for voting. And in any case, if the people involved can't take the time to figure out what they're favorite movies are, why should they even be involved in the vote? Wikipedia has an easy comparison chart of the two lists, but I'd like to know what the differences were on the two ballots. The arbitrariness of the list selection is even more obvious when you look at which sequels were selected. All three Lord of the Rings movies were included, but only the third Harry Potter movie was. Also Terminator 2 and Spider-Man 2 were selected over their predecessors, while Raiders of the Lost Ark is the sole Indiana Jones entry. And although Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back were on there, Return of the Jedi was not.

Of course list making and especially ranked list making is an arbitrary process. The new list has twenty-three films that were replaced by new additions. I suspect if everyone were polled again tomorrow, there'd be at least fifteen. So bickering is fun, but unnecessary. Ostensibly, the list is supposed to reflect American films, but it's really a representation of English language movies (lest we leave out The Third Man--oh, wait). I'm glad that the AFI doesn't include foreign language movies because they would just be grossly underrepresented as they are in the Oscars, the movie theaters, and the moviegoing public's minds. But of course, I'm just hypocrising myself right now.

Canons of all kinds are rightfully criticized as racist, sexist, and elitist. But everyone forgets that they are good introductory tools. Let us begin with these films and move onto more interesting ones later. I was just fifteen when the first list came out and it served as a catalyst to many Blockbuster rentals. I've now seen 72 flicks on that list and 75 on the new one. And I think I'll add Intolerance to my Netflix queue.

The White Stripes Strike Again (But not like Casey)

So The Whites Stripes have released the 8th or 9th "long awaited follow-up" album this year, Icky Thump. I can't tell you yet whether its thumpin' or just plain icky because I've only made it five tracks in, which is about as many songs fit on the car ride from the store to my job. So far, thump away Mr. White! The White Stripes are easily the weirdest act to hit the Billboard Top Ten this decade, so it's easy to see them as a fluke act. But they didn't seem so flukey back in '02, when it seemed that The Strokes might actually revolutionize this thing. What happened instead was that the garage rock movement of the early years of decade was just the beginning of what has been a decade long nostalgia trip. Indie rock (with mainstream rock trailing six months behind) has subsequently moved through the decades. Southern Rock, New Wave, Stadium Rock, Giganto-U2 Rock, they've all recieved their share of play. And now even 90s staples like rave music, Brit pop and sludge metal are getting new spins. I don't think the radio could keep up, which is why Nickelback is still on display at a Wal-Mart near you. I think the reason the White Stripes still get attention is because unlike the rest of the nostalgia set, they managed to spin something new out of the past.

Icky Thump has been labelled a "return to roots" album. But every album that follows a band's mid-tempo mellow album is labelled a "back to basics" album (look for that description the next time Wilco releases an album). Icky Thump (or at least the first five songs) actually feels like a complete 180 from Get Behind Me Satan (except for maybe Blue Orchid), but it doesn't feel like too much of a turnaround, in part because you never know where the Stripes are gonna take you with each song, but moreso because the Raconteurs pit stop into mid-tempo riff rock lends a natural Satan-Thump progression.

On their first three albums, the Stripes sounded like they were improvising on the spot. Elephant was an absolutely necessary turn into a more structured sound. Any more albums of 15 plus loose two minute pop truffles would've gone stale. The new sound is a bit of a return to the more playful sound. but it's all filtered through the most production the Stripes have ever had. The album sounds great. It's obvious that the family White has learned more than a thing or two about analog tape over the last couple years. It's hard to notice though because of the music's thunder. The Stripes have basically made their metal album. And that's about as good a combination as anyone has thought of in the last ten years.

Radio Re-Remixed

Idolator pointed me towards an interesting story in the Chicago Reader (I'd point ya to it too, but Blogger's not letting me do links right now for some reason) about a local radio stations decision to play pirated internet leaks of the new White Stripes new album leading to a bitchy phone call from none other than Jack White himself. The comments from Radio station's music director were a sad lament about radio's behind the curve status. I think the most poignant quote from the piece is this.

"Say a record leaks and kids are passing it around on the Internet for two weeks. [Record labels] still want me to talk about the world premiere broadcast I'm gonna do. And you wonder why people listening to the radio don't think of us as a source of new music anymore. They're getting it before we are."

There's been more than a few of these sorts of articles over the past few iPod-ruled years, as the MP3 has very quickly made anachronisms out of the album, radio, and even record labels themselves (everybody clap your hands and say yeah!). But for all the doom and gloom these articles evince at the day the music died, there's a simple question that can put it all into perspective? Do you listen to the radio? According to these articles, the modern music lover doesn't need or want to. They listen to CDs or iTunes or internet radio. If those are the preferred method of listening to new music, then why should anyone care if something they don't need or want to listen to goes under? The only thing I can think of is that, despite it's falling status as the leading source for discovering new music, it is still the leading source for discovering new music. Most people in America didn't hear about Gnarls Barkley from an MP3 blog. Although it sounds silly, even a band like Broken Social Scene probably would have sold quite a few more records if your No. 1 source for new music had played Anthems For a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl a thousand mjavascript:void(0)ore times than they did (which was zero). Even if people don't like the songs on the radio, their incessant repitition at least makes them recognizable to most people. But, as this article makes clear, diversifying playlists just leads to the death knell for radio stations. That's because the only people left listening to the radio are only the most casual of music listeners. Which is why there are so many classic rock stations on your dial.

In any case, the mainstream success of bands should be of the least concern to a music listener. The new Spoon album may or may not crossover to the casual music listener, but if it doesn't that doesn't mean you don't get to listen to Spoon anymore. There is a bit of an incentive for movie lovers to hope their favorite directors score a hit. Movies are so expensive to make that anything that gets their directors to another movie is welcome. But even the most obnoxious, tuneless person can record their ultimate double album on their computer at home and distribute it internationally over the internet. They may not find success, but they can get their music heard. And the impression that most music writers give off is that they don't want their favorite bands to be successful, as any person who has seen their favorite small band succeed only to lose themselves in the mass of backward ball-capped idiots at the next concert.

So there will be no sobbing from me the next I hear of a modern rock radio station folding or a modern hit radio station switching to talk radio. If I don't listen to it, I can't mourn it. I do turn the dial in my car from NPR and the college station occasionally to other formats. And that's fine with me. Cars are already implementing iPod connection slots into their radios. It's only a matter of time before your car will be able to wirelessly connect to your computer and you'll be able to download music directly to your dashboard.

Going Through Films #6

Midnight Cowboy
dir. John Schlesinger, 1969
Seen June 15, 2007 on Pan and Scan DVD unfortunately. My fiance put in the disc and when the dreaded "This film has been modified card came up, I groaned figuring that Netflix had just sent a disc from an early edition DVD that didn't have widescreen which there were a few in the early days. It was only afterward that I discovered that the movie was on a double sided disc, which I haven't seen in a while. Ah, well something for another time.

This movie is a lot more trippy than I remember. I'd say that roughly half the flick is strung out montages. There's lots of neat editing that juxtaposes interesting visuals to represent what it's like to be down and out in Manhattan in the late 60s that probably went right over my fifteen-year-old cow-licked head. What I did remember very well was the relationship between Joe Buck and Rico "Ratso" Rizzo that has to be one of the top ten cinematic male friendships depicted on film. In fact that's probably what Oscar voters remembered back in early 1970 when they were voting for Best Picture of 1969. Even in the 60s and 70s movies like this weren't given Oscars. Except, of course, that it did win the Oscar.
This is famously known as the only X-rated Best Picture winner, although it would be rated R today and I think it actually was rated R upon rerelease. I think what pushed it over the edge back then (or what would push it over in today's thrust-counting MPAA present) was a quick shot in one of the montages of Jon Voigt's legs being spread by what I think was a mob that was going to rape him? I dunno. I couldn't really make out Joe Buck's pre-New York story in all the indirect flashbacks. But I like it better that way. The tone of the flashbacks suggest that Joe Buck had a weird psycho-sexual past that, along with the American cinematic myth of the cowboy (and perhaps early 60's swinging romances like Breakfast at Tiffany's) drove him to hustle his body in New York. Anything more needn't be necessary.