True Grit and Tangled

These films should actually never be side-by-side. Or SHOULD THEY? Let's look at the FREAKISH SIMILARITIES:

Both are remakes of classic stories (True Grit is an old school Western, Tangled is based on the Rapunzel fairy tale), spun with contemporary sensibilities (Coen brothers their signature hilarious quick-paced dialogue, meanwhile Rapunzel looks like Blake Lively), featuring precocious adolescent girls with long hair, danger, hijinks, outlaws, restoring order to the family unit (Daughter avenging her father's untimely death, Daughter returning to be with her Father and Mother). At the end of each film, precocious adolescent girls have some limb or hair follicle severed in a surprising manner. Walk off into some wide-angled sunset. Or some other stark lighting choice.

Overall, I would say True Grit is the superior film. It's just sort of charming and straight-forward, in the efficient Western kind of way, where there is one central conflict and it's clear that once that has been solved, the film will conclude. However, that does limit the Coens a little, known for their sort of off-beat tangents where random characters appear to sort of sidetrack the protagonists (see: Fargo, No Country, O Brother). That being said, they do weasel in some of their quirky charm in the form of amusing banter, unusual for a Western (where characters usually speak in bruting one-word sentences a la Clint Eastwood). Much appreciated. My only complaint is the epilogue, which doesn't add, or really even coalesce with the rest of the film, either thematically or structurally. I could go on a little bit of a rant about this, but I'd rather end my movie monologuing on a positive, which is this is a fine film which will fare well during the upcoming season.

Namaste!

And on a coffee-related note, the only game in town, besides the well-trodden Starbucks, is a Christian-owned coffee shop where the wireless password is Jesus1. You could probably skip that. Get a Sbux Via in cinammon spice. Not too bad to (not) brew at home.

Somewhere and The Tourist

Oscar Season Movie Rundown Continued...though I strongly suspect that neither Somewhere and The Tourist are strong front-runners

Somewhere is the latest from one of my fave directors Sofia Coppola (Lost in Translation, Marie Antoinette), who seems to have developed a niche in loneliness and urban isolation. Not to mention beautiful colors, shots, and rockin scores. Also in resusitating the careers of aging hipsters (first Bill Murray, and now Stephen Dorf) as well as promoting those of aspiring up-and-comers (ScarJo, and now Elle Fanning -- just fantastic). There's a lot to like about this film visually and audibally (sp?). It's like one long love letter/music video to the movie star life of the inhabitants of Chateau Marmont. However, as far as the story, there is a lot of waiting, hoping through limited dialogue and loooonng shots (at times, while actually watching paint dry. Like actually, we watch latex paint dry for what feels like seven years). While I appreciate the need for variation (not all films are/should be as ADD as a Michael Bay epic, or feature as many jump cuts as some Guy Ritchie piece), at times this was trying to my patience. Further, I felt Coppola was lifting a lot of scenes from Lost in Translation (the movie star press junket sequence where the star, overwhelmed by the light bulbs, comes off like a moron, as well as unsollicited hotel room call girls), which is a more efficient film. Maybe the Academy will recognize Coppola for the good work she has done in the past and will likely continue to do. However, I don't think this is the finest feather in her cap. A solid iTunes rental and a good source of some great music.

The Tourist -- in spite of this film's bizarre Golden Globe noms, I doubt we'll hear more from it come late January. Two very attractive people. Like really. Maybe the most attractive people. In a spy flick. Which is sort of fine, entertaining, lots of pretty outfits, gadgets, Venice. I mean, it makes some sense. The plot. Well, until the end. But it's serviceable. Okay, you know what, I will recommend it. You can see this movie. That's fine. You aren't hurting anyone. Really, you are just proving Darwin's Survival of the Fittest theory. Pretty people.

King's Speech, Rabbit Hole, Somewhere, The Tourist, Tangled, and True Grit

It is very much Oscar season: the SAG noms, the Golden Globes, the trailers featuring Sundance, Cannes, NYFF tags, Javier Bardiem. The usual. And as such, I'm beginning my movie marathon. Thankfully I'm stranded with nothing else to do in Ohio, where I can pay reasonable midwestern ticket prices and enjoy all the comforts of a megaplex sans bedbugs.

First up, Rabbit Hole -- a stage to screen adaptation of the fantastic David Lindsay-Abaire play about the fall-out to a family following the death of their son. Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart star as the grieving parents. I was not a hater like the critics on this one. I really enjoyed the honesty of some of the scenes, especially those at the group crisis counseling sessions (Sandra Oh from Grey's makes a nice turn as a wound-up mom) and with the teen responsible for the accident (Miles Teller -- one to watch). I also liked the cartoon animation motif as a linking force as well as a reminder of childhood. I thought the art direction, the whispy WASP-y Westchester lawns, white picket fences, well-ironed linens, looked lovely and appropriately restrictive. However, I had some difficulties with Kidman, in and out of her Aussie accent, and incongruent with lower-classed mother Diane Weist and knocked-up sister. The trio didn't have any chemistry, and their incompatibility was never closely examined. Though it's been a while since I read the play, I remembered more joy, more carthasis in its trajectory. This version of Rabbit Hole was more static, more languid in its sadness, which made two hours difficult. I couldn't tell when I was given permission to cry, though I certainly was given ammunition. I found myself waiting and watching, instead of fully immersing myself within the world.

King's Speech will certainly make the Academy's Top Ten. Engaging performances by all players, especially Geoffrey Rush, who I'm convinced can do no wrong, and a new perspective on a historical period. I always love that. When some strange factual nugget is brought to life, into popular culture by some intrepid filmmaker. I also thought the director got even throw-away segments and characters so right on. Even in the casting of Margaret and Elizabeth, future monarch. Granted they only had a few bits to show their personalities, but I thought they prophetized how their future selves would behave. I admit that there were some slow parts in which I may or may not have nodded off. So my review can't be as thorough as I might have hoped. I will blame midwestern carbicide rather than lazy filmmaking. A really good one. Highly recommended.

Young and Hungry: 127 Hours and Black Swan

There is a commonly held belief among Hollywood actors that a demanding role requires some sort of physical transformation. Perhaps he/she had to waste away to nothing (e.g. Adrian Brody in the Pianist, Tom Hanks in Castaway), disfigure themselves (Charlize Theron in Monster, Nicole Kidman in the Hours) or play wildly against type (Hillary Swank in Boys Don't Cry, Sean Penn in Milk). 127 Hours and Black Swan offer us the bodies of two of Hollywood's hottie Oscar hopefuls as they undergo the physical demands of dangerous or masochistic pursuits (127 -- cayoneering, BS -- ballet dancing). As James Franco and Natalie Portman's bodies are put through hell, they are utilized to reveal silently the deterioration of their character's minds.

Unfortunately, this wasn't enough of a character arch for me. Broken bodies or not, I wanted to see these characters go through a personal transformation as well. Instead of simply looking aghast at their respective frightening circumstances, I wanted to see a gradual change in perspective, new tactics, fighting resolve or desperate submission. To me, these movies already decided where they were going and the actors were along for the chaotic ride.

Sure, they both had some interesting filmic techniques. 127 Hours was directed by Danny Boyle of Slumdog and features some of his electric images and cuts, wild music by AR Rahman, saturated colors and gritty textures. Black Swan by Darren Aronsky shows ballet dancing from waste down on handheld cameras. Maybe this was an effort to hide Natalie Portman's chancey turnout, but regardless, it showed ballet in a new light, less big picture beauty and more tiny, yet brutal contortion. The filmmakers had an angle and a strategy. But when the conflict is all internal, it is hard to demonstrate through externalized images and dialogue without resorting to cliches. Cheesy flashbacks, bizarre dream sequences, hokey magical realism. These are the tools of lesser auteurs. Like their stars, Danny and Darren needed to throw their all into these movies and do some creative brainstorming. Instead we get films that are going to be passed off as award season fodder, when a more discerning eye will realize that we are being tricked by style without substance.

Don't be fooled. Get yourself a peppermint mocha.

The big, the small, the frivolous

Sitting in my apartment, recovering from blackout Friday, gives me time to consider the spat of films I've enjoyed over the past two weeks. This trifecta runs the gamut from the largest, most lucrative blockbuster series in the history of cinema to a movie playing at one theatre in one city starring/written/directed by a 24 year old girl. And Christina Aguilera's Oscar contender for Best Actress. Range.

First up, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1. All I can say is FINALLY. I felt this film was the reward for sitting through the first, painful, slow, and piss poor adaptations of the first six books (to be fair: I didn't hate the 3rd movie directed by Alfonso Cuaron). It felt like a movie, a fully-realized, thoughtful, visually-stunning story expressed through camera work, acting, narrative arc. I was captivated and enthralled. I found myself marveling at what nuanced performers the Hogwarts trio has become over the ten years of this franchise. I was obsessed with the animation sequence (the tale of the Hallows) and delighted by the art direction and execution of the Ministry of Magic vignette. It looked like a throwback to the film, Brazil, layered with enchantment. The audience at the midnight screening (yes, I still do that) was completely on board, even deep into the second hour. We were all watching the lid being closed on our childhood adventures and we didn't want it to end. Thankfully, we have a six month grace period. Until July. Part two. Can't wait.

Tiny Furniture was a movie I would probably dismiss as self-indulgent, pretentious, and a little too indie for its own good. However, given the press for writer/director/star Lena Dunham, it seemed too topical for me to avoid. I am glad I checked it out. It turned out to be an incredibly honest, sweet, funny, and fresh perspective on the post-grad life. Granted, peppered with privilege and perhaps permissive parenting. But there's no thought in my mind that the children of TriBeCa do engage in that manner. So however annoying it might be from a class standpoint, it is her reality. And the irony is, she's not slacking away her post-liberal arts years, she's writing, directing and starring in movies. No small feat, even with all materials in her favor. I have encouraged many of my contemporaries to see this little movie, but have been met with sneers. My young, creative pals are threatened by the idea of Lena as competitor and don't want to support her vanity project. Surely this population will not affect the overall reception, as I really look forward to her next more adult effort.

Burlesque. Well, that happened. This Xtina/Cher/Tucci spectacle was exactly what I anticipated. Shlock of the silliest variety. Sequins. Nine "Eleventh Hour" numbers. There is no reason to see this movie. Unless you are its target demographic, which is me. In which case, you are delighted and comforted by its predictability and glitzy escapism.

Drink it down with a soy latte from Teany on the Lower East Side, Moby's vegan contribution to the strip of Ludlow bars. The holidays are here.

Cleaning my plate for Oscar season

When you were little, your parents instructed, "Eat your vegetables or no dessert." The fall season is littered with annoying radishes and seemingly inedible cabbage, leading up to the sweet sweet Oscar contenders. If you are lucky, you get a savory brussel sprout. Some of the ruffage included:

Howl -- Sometimes I wonder if James Franco is actually a corporation. How on earth does he have time to make so many films, get multiple degrees (or at least take classes) from Ivy League graduate programs, create bizarre performance art and attend premieres? Well apparently because he is involved in projects like Howl, which maybe was filmed in two takes. Director: Jimmy, sit here, smoke a cigarette, wax poetic. Great, you are beautiful, we are done. Then someone added Jon Hamm and Mary-Louise Parker and called it a day. From the trailer, the courtroom scenes promised the Social Network meets Milk. But instead, it became this sort of draggy Pixar-inspired adaptation of the epic poem with a lot of cheesy monologuing. By the end, I didn't feel all that great about Ginsberg or his poem, and started to wonder if Jon Hamm only exists within the 60s. Seeing it at the Angelika gave it a certain cache, as everyone in the audience (read: geriatric left) seemed to be reminiscing about their free-spirited former lives. Doubtful that same experience would be matched on Netflix. Avoid.

Red -- A better Mary-Louise Parker performance can be found in Red, or Retired: Extremely Dangerous, a silly action picture about a group of olds who were former assassins and agents, and even in their AARP age can't put their killer instincts to bed. Malkovich, Willis, Freeman, Mirren...you certainly can bring together a more random hodge podge. I sort of enjoyed it. I got the impression everyone was having a good time making the movie and that shows. I felt for these people, this dying breed of not only secret ops, but of old school movie actors. What roles do we force them into now? Can you imagine casting Willis as the grandfather? He's DIEHARD! And then you have Mirren who is about the best looking 60+ woman in America, who should essentially be an eternal Bond girl with better acting chops, but now will have to play Blake Lively's great-aunt. Interesting.

Megamind- Why did I see this? Because I'm a sucker for Ferrell, Fey, Hill, Pitt. When I saw the trailer promising futuristic hijinks with this hilarious cast, I was giddy. I need to restrain myself, because Dreamworks animation is not the same snarkiness/adult-themed sensibility of the Pixar flicks, and as a post-teen/tween, this film would not resonate with me. These are things I know. I was bored. I thought the jokes were lame and the characters undeveloped.

Waiting for Superman - This doc about the failing public education system seemed to be right up my alley -- I love a good freakonomics perspective about social issues. However, the anecdotes never got my goat. I found myself critiquing the filmmaking (sort of the laziness of the limited perspective, the selected interviews, the missing content, and the absolute condemnation of the teachers unions without substantive support) more than the national situation. I also fell asleep.

Revolucion - This was a NYFF selection. Several vignettes about Mexican independence directed by prominent contemporary Mexican directors. Some interesting pieces. Mostly for their camera work, more than their content. Always difficult to assemble something like this with any overarching themes. A nice thought. More for cultural studies academics than filmgoers more keen on plot and character development.

Have you been to Eataly? You need an espresso stat. And their buffalo mozzarella caprese salad with a side of carbs.

Really good blog discussing New York Film Festival 2010

http://www.reverseshot.com/27/nyff_2010

New York Film Festival debrief

Hi Fall, How goes it? Wired from too many free espressos at the Illy stand at Lincoln Center, I am hastily reporting on the battery of films I've seen over the past week. Starting with...

THE SOCIAL NETWORK -- GAH! I saw this TWICE. Yes. Why? I'll give you my top five on why this film managed to live up to the extreme hype (outrage by Zuckerberg, critical praise across the board):

1- Cast - Each actor is perfectly suited to his/her role, is directed appropriately, and develops a compelling character who could lead his/her own film (most notably Jesse Eisenberg who makes Mark Zuckerberg a completely recognizable socially inept nerd who emerges as a tragic anti-hero/hero, and Justin Timberlake as Napster bad boy Sean Parker -- actually an Oscar performance...Arnie Hammer, Andrew Garfield...Rashida Jones...the Larry Summers look-alike...just great...and Erica Albright)

2- Script -- tight, expertly crafted, with complexity, truth (?), ethical dilemmas, timeliness, motifs and subthemes, motives, near perfect pacing...the ultimate issue is very meta -- the end of personal privacy leads to the filming of this tell-all expose

3- Music -- Trent Rezner of NIN creates a dense layer of sound which adds and elevates scenes, the tension, amplifies the speed of the proceedings

4- Direction -- characters are connecting/disconnecting in the best way possible, the editing, the computerized nature of the cinematography...it was perfect

5- My own bias -- the first frame of this film "Fall 2003" was my freshman year at college, revisiting that dorm, that life, those people, and those iterations of The Facebook mastheads made this film come alive to me in a really personal way. This is the first movie I've seen that legitimately tells my generational story verbatim. So many moments I recall, from the invention of the WALL, to the beginning of ads, etc.

Moving on to less than stellar flicks

The Tempest -- god, Julie Taymor. We are in a fight. This film shouldn't have been made. Really the Public should have wrangled Alfred Molina and Helen Mirren to perform this script next summer in the park and that would have been it. But JT being who she is these days (Spidey Broadway on the way) brought this into the world, based on her obsession with this story. There were aspects that reminded me of a trippy Eureka's Castle episode from the early 90s, and others that reminded me of the lamest parts of Across the Universe, an extended emo music video with lots of pastiche fabrics and worlds. Mostly I felt bad for Dijamon (why did he agree to be a part of this). Then I felt equally bad for Chris Cooper and David Straitharn. But then I felt bad for myself, because I had to sit through the entire thing and they were only in moments of this endless storm.

Aurora -- an absolute waste of 3 hours of my life. Painful. Romanian thriller my foot. The pacing was excruciating. Literally nothing happened for two hours and then the main character goes on a killing rampage, blaming the demise of his marriage. I really disliked him. Especially his interaction with his daughter. I wanted something terrible to happen to him. Instead, he surrenders himself to the inept police and that's where we are left. Really? Bleck. Also, the pretentious conversations I had with NYFF patrons after the film confirmed that no one got the director or author's intention here. We were bored and frustrated.

Freakonomics -- this is another film that probably shouldn't have gotten made. It's not a documentary. Yet, it sort of needs to be. But the media of film isn't offering any new insight into the issues tackled in the famed mass economics text. It's instead creating little School house rock segments that sometimes succeed, other times, bore to tears, and mostly don't cohere because of the varied voices/narration. I say it rarely, but you would be better off reading the book. More chance you won't have to be subjected to cheeky cartoons and subject stand-ins.

A Trifecta for the Soul

There are few things I love more than movies and coffee. Hence why I started this blog. To help navigate and direct readers to the best varieties of both. However, these experiences serve another function in my life: escapism. Sometimes when the world seems to be knocking me around, I take myself to Starbucks, to the Lincoln Square Loews, and all seems right again. I have found this to beat the blues in a number of cities and circumstances. From India to Massachusetts, where there's a screen and a bean, there's a remedy.

This weekend amid atoning, I rallied some compadres to see some really excellent flicks.

Easy A - A throwback to the John Hughes generation with a bit more contemporary cynicism and technology, just a delightful teen comedy that doesn't pander to the lowest common denominator, but instead dazzles with a lot of spunk and terrific supporting performances (Stanley Tucci, Patricia Clarkson, Lisa Kudrow). Emma Stone (a favorite from Zombieland) carries the film with grace and charm. She has what Lindsay Lohan promised and has since failed to deliver: the smart, the stunning, the resourceful, that suggests she will graduate to bigger things. Just fun.

Catfish - While I find escapism at the movies, others locate it on the internet. As revealed in this twisted, unsettling documentary about the relationship between a New York photographer and an admiring family in Michigan. I don't want to give anything away, but this statement: go see it. There are weirdos out there and a good defense is the best offense. I actually don't know what that means.

The Town -- When the trailer for this film premiered before Inception back in July, I flipped out. It was as if the casting director asked for my input. Ben Affleck!! Jon Hamm! Rebecca Hall! Chris Cooper! The SAME MOVIE! The brunette Departed! I die. Anyway, each poster and billboard filled me with more glee, though I was convinced (due to the September release date) that it was going to be a throwaway snoozefest. Opposite of true. Actually a compelling drama/thriller that at times feels like an Arthur Miller play. I found myself routing for Affleck's no good bank robber amid all of his wrongdoings (meanwhile thinking, Affleck has three movies under his belt where he works in construction: Armageddon, Good Will Hunting, and now this...must be his chiseled jaw line..drool). Like a Miller play, no character (well, maybe a few) was completely evil. Even Jeremy Renner and Blake Lively, a brother and sister on the wrong side of the law, give us something to think about. I admired the pacing of the film, a thoughtful blend of shoot-ups with story and thoughtful conversation. I only wish Jon Hamm had been given the smallest bit of backstory, beyond "cop out for blood." I was curious to know who he was outside of his professional proceedings, where he fit into the whole townie vs. tooney environment, and whether he would date me. No, fictional. I loved how much townie Affleck (in director not construction worker hat) explored Boston. It's odd that a film about a town full of criminals made me want to move there. It is just so lovely, with narrow streets, brownstone-style homes, and ocean views. I saw myself in Rebccca Hall's Banana Republic loafers padding around this community, weeding in the community garden, and eating pineapple pizza on sunny days in the middle of Cambridge. Will just watch out armed masked men. A solid sleeper hit for the fall season.

The Town

Movie Marathon Posting

When it rains, it pours. As we saw this week in Brooklyn and this weekend at the movies. You needed espresso to get through this monster marathon...preferably that found at 78th and Madison in a little French cafe with the best croissants.

But first, some oldies:

Predators -- Yeah, I saw this. Why? Peer pressure. Replace peer with parent and you understand my complicated relationship with my father, a diehard sci-fi fan with a special place in his heart for films receiving C minuses or lower or critical indexes. This is not worth your time. You might also question why talented thespians Adrian Brody and Lawrence Fishburne found themselves in this movie, let alone on this strange lost world island. That being said, you might find yourself on a plane one day, and there might be a screaming child kicking your seat, and you'll plug in your ear plugs and look overhead for respite. You might find on that puny screen Predators (unless you are flying Virgin where the choice will be yours) and you'll watch it. And you'll be fine.

The next two movies represent the new canon of "Find Yourself Femme Flicks." Society has long informed us what happens to men after they outgrow their first marriage, but what about to women? And what about these times call for these sorts of profiles? Women in similar positions to Patricia Clarkson and Julia Roberts' characters in the past would be found sulking in some suburb, rather than exploring their world and rekindling their passion for life and love. Whether this is owed to financial independence or changes in social stigma, there has been a bit of a liberation for the ladies. At least according to Hollywood.

Eat Pray Love -- the movie which takes America's sweetheart to Italy, India and Indonesia on a search to find her groove through carbs, karma and kisses. About 40 minutes too long to hold my attention, even through the gorgeous scenery. Disjointed and self-indulgent, EPL never took off. However, runaway performances by The Visitor's Richard Jenkins, Javier Bardem, and Naples pizza should be noted. Well done.

Cairo Time -- burnt out businesswoman Patricia Clarkson finds herself Lost in Translation in Egypt where she waits for her diplomat husband to walk the pyramids with her. While she hangs out, in lovely dresses and excellent lighting, she gets involved in a little middle east Sex and the City 2 activities with a handsome Egyptian coffee shop owner. A lush, delicate and engaging character portrait. Make time. For Cairo Time. Said in the voice of Bill Murray (Santori time).

Cyrus, Inception, Despicable Me, and The Kids are All Right...Telepan

It's the kind of day where you think you should be spending time in the park, then the trickle of sweat down your back reveals that though it is 97 in the shade, it's 106 in the light...and the movie theatre is so close, so cool, so sacred.

Enjoy your beach time on Coney Island, I'll take an awkward but chilling angle at the Lincoln Plaza, the Battery Park Regal, the 84th or 68th AMC any day. And maybe some of those delish pretzel M&Ms, my summer addiction.

Cyrus is the right choice if you are feeling wistful, in need of some thoughtful relationship character drama, a couple of Jonah Hill-inspired laughs (wow, HIS career!)...some quality time with Marisa Tomei and John C. Reilly -- really great chemistry and solid performances. Like Meet the Parents without the sneakiness.

Inception is beautiful to look at, inventive in some aspects, a portfolio piece for Marion Cottiard ...but overall a little lacking in the backstories of the characters, the nuances of the individual dream worlds...sometimes slow and ponderous (those familiar with Dark Knight and Memento might find that shocking for Nolan). I know I am in the minority of the masses, but the company of the critics in this opinion. See for yourself. Pinwheels.

Despicable Me has great animation, a silly, easy, and warm plotline with some cuddly characters and a surprisingly good soundtrack (Pharell?).

The Kids are All Right was just a delightful little family drama with a powerhouse cast and a mainstream portrayal of a lesbian couple, their teenage kids, and their sperm donor. Efficient with its screen time. Interesting to see this door be opened, albeit with Annette Benning and Julianne Moore. Small steps.

Telepan on 69th and Central Park West. Why can't every week be Restaurant Week? The Corn Souffle...the gourmet s'mores...the summer squash. mmm...

Toy Story 3 and Baby Cakes

It's hard to believe fifteen years have passed since we took our first trip to Andy's bedroom, meeting Mr. and Mrs. Potato, Slinky dog, Rex the dino, the world Pixar gifted us. Childhood has changed so drastically since the days of Hasbro and Mattel creations. Eight year olds email, text, video chat. The concept of play is different and imagination takes new forms. Walking into the final Toy Story chapter, sliding into my reclining Imax chair and slipping on my 3d goggles, I was transported to an old fashioned playtime, before my ipad replaced my Hot Wheels cars (okay, there were a few steps in between that transition) and our consumer culture took a turn. Rather than expound on the merits of this movie, too numerous to mention, I will simply hold it as an example of what film can be. Magic. Magnification of our souls in images. Unifying. The community of audience members dabbing their eyes in the final scenes were all experiencing a collective nostalgia and catharsis. At an animated film. About mass-manufactured inanimate objects.

In a way, I was the exact target audience for this picture. Someone who grew up with these toys before they became relics, these films before the Pixar empire was founded, who not all that long ago packed up and headed into adulthood. This film was reassuring. We are all in this scary world together, with friends looking out for us.

There is much scholarly discussion about the role of mothers vs. fathers in Disney animated films. Toy Story is exceptional in that, unlike Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast, Pochantas, Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Finding Nemo, etc, the father is absent, replaced by a (questionably) young single man. Yet the film doesn't lack paternal love. Woody and Buzz seem to fill in that void of protecting, nurturing, acting as models of masculinity -- the heroic cowboy and the noble spaceman. What more could a little boy ask for?

Your $22 3d imax evening New York movie ticket goes well with drinking fountain water, but if you are feeling like you can handle another treat-- Baby Cakes on the lower east side. Gluten-free, dairy-free, and/or vegan cupcakes, scones, brownies, cookies that let you be a kid again without as much guilt. Feels like you walked into some five year old hipster's birthday party.

Get Him to the Greek and Press Lounge at Ink48

Last summer, in the tradition of Devil Wears Prada profiles in executive assistantships, Hollywood offered us the smart Funny People with Seth Rogen as a bumbling serf to a narcissistic movie star (played by) Adam Sandler. This year, we have Get Him to the Greek, a bromance chase flick with Jonah Hill as assuming geeky peon tasked with guardianship of aging rocker Aldous Snow in the hours leading up to his comeback concert. The formula for success in this new genre seems to be: 1-identifying with the assistant, whatever ambition is pushing them forward beyond this gig (here, Jonah Hill is an aspiring music producer), 2-situations displaying how the boss character is taking advantage of him/her (insisting Hill hide Aldous' heroin on the plane up his well-you saw the commercial), 3-the impact of the job on both the assistant (love life falling apart) and the destruction of the employer's own personal life, 4-resolution in which the assistant realizes his/her initial goal/moves beyond crappy job with support from the boss who recognized their ingenuity/kindness/etc.

Get Him to the Greek gives us all of these criterion, in front of some silly scenery in London, Vegas, and LA clubs. The goofy cast of bit players work well together -- most notably Puff Daddy as the ultimate label producer giving a hilarious turn. I enjoyed Get Him to the Greek, the grossout humor and send up of affected celebrities. Would have been delighted to get an even faster pace -- somewhat slowed down by sketch-nature of the plot which lessened the stakes. It is "get him to the greek" meaning the show should be the ultimate goal, not just a convenient conclusion. Still, a good one for a rowdy evening. Maybe capped with a drink at the new rooftop lounge at Ink48 in Hells Kitchen. Journey to the sixteenth floor overlooking all of Manhattan. Feel like a rock star on an assistant's salary for the price of a potent cocktail.

Solitary Man and Urth Caffe on Melrose

Sometimes even the most stalwart New Yorker needs to escape the island bubble. For me, a travel to the west coast was just what the doctor ordered. A little R&R, sunshine, vegan desserts, and an evening at the Arc Light cinemas in Hollywood.

The Arc Light allows you to pick your seat ahead of time on a seating chart, shop for movie merchandise, grab a cocktail, and recline in a comfy chair in a stadium-seating style theatre. After a glass of local zinfandel, I was ready to be the most receptive audience ever in these lush environs.

On the bill that evening was Solitary Man, Michael Douglas' return to Wall Street, post-recession automobile mogul who made some unethical business choices both at work and at play. As a character study, profiles in despicable behavior and the women who condone or reject it (Mary Louise Parker, Susan Sarandon, Olivia Thirlby, and Jenna Fischer to name a few), this movie succeeds. I felt I knew these characters and understood their buy-in to the drama. However, the impulse to tie Douglas' character's vices together into a neat little explanation at the end seemed artificial. I wasn't sure where it needed to go, but this didn't work for me.

The film did answer the central question though: Can he--Michael Douglas the actor-- still do it? The answer is yes. And for the secondary up-and-comers: Thirlby, Fischer, and Jesse Eisenberg -- can they hold their own? Absolutely.

Ruminate with the zen-ed out Socal types with a green tea latte and vegan chocolate chip cookie at Urth Caffe on Melrose. Yup, they have valet.

Sex and the City 2, Caramel, and Green Symphony

When domesticity proves to be more dull than delightful and monogamy more monotonous than manageable, it's time to reassess. Our hero chooses to escape and return to more carefree days and get second chances to alter past decisions. But when all is said and done, the hero wishes for the life/love they left behind.

Did I just describe Shrek 4 or the plot of Sex and the City 2?

For our purposes, let's claim the later. SATC2 opened last night at midnight to 20% more fanfare than the original. The heels were in full force to see the latest exploits of Carrie and company, now entering their late 40s/early 50s. After a few cocktails myself, I was ready to be transported to the middle east (the new Manhattan) where the famous four are on vacay from the realities of their lives, livelihoods (and bank accounts...oh wait...what are those?).

A few offensive scenes later, I realized I too was wandering the desert. Scorching hot outfits aside, this series was suffering a serious drought. The television show which schooled me in cosmopolitan etiquette (From how to hail a cab to how not to break up with someone: via post-it) is now a showcase for what NOT to do (how to act in a foreign country, how to act with an ex). Several major GLAMOUR don'ts. Not to mention a plot which meanders and just demands an audible "REALLY?!"

That being said, I did not have the indignant reactions of the cinema criti-ratti...mostly males of a certain age who are more apt to give a positive review of the latest Michael Bay/Jerry Bruckheimer explosion than something that trades green screens for emerald dresses. That seems unfair. Excess and stupidity comes in more than one gender. Let us too have our carb-less bread and circuses. These women are our friends. To hear them being denigrated by these men infuriates me. They don't have permission to diss my sisters.

As goofy as their circumstances in this fanciful world might be, the ladies have some charming moments as well. Miranda and Charlotte discussing the realities of modern motherhood was one of the most poignant and honest scenes on the subject I've seen in film or television. You feel the chemistry between these cast members (all of them). They would do anything for one another. This self-less quality is not found in Gossip Girl, Mean Girls, any of the catty depictions of women we are inundated with. There is something about this series that rouses gangs of gal pals to celebrate being independent women.

If you can't bring yourself to see this film, whether it be your cardinal rule (nothing lower than 40% on Rotten Tomatoes) or your value of your time (2.5 hours!)...check out Caramel, a 2009 Lebanese export I caught at the Lebanese Film Festival at the Walter Reade. Features a gaggle of women in and around a beauty shop, exposing cultural mores, and experiencing love and fashion, both as transient as the other.

Polish off your gal pal outing with a treat from Green Symphony in Times Square -- where everyone knows your name and your gluten-intolerance. The Anytime bars are delicious.

Kick Ass, Iron Man 2, Shrek 4, and Kaffein

When summer blockbusters hit the airwaves, with tie-in commercials hawking high tech watches and slick sports cars to the heavy metal theme songs, I get gleeful. It means the superheroes are coming, the franchises, the pomp and circumstance of popcorn movie season. However, I realize this is an effect of my midwestern small town upbringing, rather than savvy studio marketing. Summer movies meant a lot more in my hometown.

Come independence day weekend at the four-screen movie theatre (not multi-plex), lines went around the block for $4 tickets (they still are..I know...I KNOW!). I prided myself on having seen all four movies showing at anytime between the months of May to August. Sometimes more than once. I saw Armageddon four times, not necessarily because I loved Bruce Willis' sacrifice for mankind or the catchy Aerosmith theme song, but because four was how many times the projectionist had to restart the reel on opening. "I don't want to miss a thing" was very apt.

I guess my movie theatre madness isn't surprising. There were few competing summer entertainment options to a 12-year old without a drivers license. Seeing the latest Hollywood blockbusters (which I had been following each week in Entertainment Weekly) meant participating in a wider cultural conversation. From references on late night talk shows to jabs in NY Times columns, fashions, abbreviations (Bennifer, Bradngelina, Lilo), these movies extended beyond their hype into a national vernacular.

Now as a jaded New Yorker, overwhelmed by options (a Broadway matinee? An afternoon at the Met? A double feature at IFC?) the multiplex offerings seem to have less impact. Only the event movies evoke watercooler conversation...Sex and the City, Dark Knight, Indiana Jones. Even still, I remain a devoted and captive audience to the so-called summer studio schlock. I am already well into this year's offerings:

Kick Ass -- Of mixed minds about this new comic book-based entry to the season's line-up. On one hand, the element situated within contemporary reality were funny in a Judd Apatow kind of way, and for a while I sort of enjoyed that they were infused with a cartoon punch. But where things got weird (and arguably irresponsible) were when Superbad merged with Sin City and an eleven year old potty-mouth girl was being pistol-whipped by a 50+ year old man. Sure part of me loved the Kick Ass quality, but sometimes it's hard to watch a dorky adolescent nearly murdered by a drug addled pimp. I am conflicted and can't recommend this to anyone with good conscience.

Iron Man 2 - Addicted to the first round, I was ecstatic for a second bout and IM2 did not disappoint. This is Robert Downey Jr.'s role and thus delightful to watch. He is smart and suave, rich and ridiculous. With Don Cheadle, ScarJo, and Mickey Rourke (although slightly off-putting), this turns into a veritable who's who of great character performances, not to mention mind-bending explosions and special effect sequences. I agree that there were some formulaic moments typical of a franchise sequel (evil villain feels slighted, befriends new villain to be henchmen, etc), but the senate hearing scene was simply spectacular cinema. Loved it like a twelve year old.

Shrek 4 -- Saw this one in 3d Imax, technology not available at the local four-screen where watching movies was akin to starring at a tv in your living room (with worse popcorn). I must say the experience is improved tremendously by that immersion into the image. I was transported into Far Far Away with lush visuals and surround sound. I felt small again and ready to be told a fairy tale. The film was serviceable, less irreverent than the others in the series, but sweet and straight-forward. I've always admired the Shrek site gags (the gingerbread cookie fending off animal crackers, the witches' grenade apples, Gepato dressed like Shrek) and enjoy revisiting characters from my past. The three little pigs, the pied piper, Pinocchio are all well-used. This, plus the karaoke tunes, make Shrek delightfully familiar. It calls upon our cultural language and distorts it to our pleasure. We escape, with friends, and return to a state of childlike innocence and wonderment. Which to me is what the summer blockbuster is all about.

Any of these films would be washed down easily with a grasshopper milkshake from Kaffein (tastes like an Andes mint frappucino)...where I followed up many summer movies and ended a few awkward dates in Evanston, Illinois. If you are averse to the lactose, try an italian soda. Always a lovely treat at this teen hangout.

Date Night and Grey Dog Coffee

Just when you think you have a formula for a successful afternoon: a little comedy with familiar favorites, a cup of brew at a comfy East Village coffee shop, your senses are shocked, or possibly dulled by generic reality. Such is the case with the latest Tina Fey/Steve Carell comedy, Date Night and a recent find, Grey Dog Coffee on University Place. I can't imagine a better pairing than these two self-effacing comedians as a sedentary suburbanite couple itching for adventure and passion. However, this is less a caper comedy, than an extended Saturday Night Live sketch where a punchline seems a commercial break away. The plot: a well-intentioned albeit boring couple's night out takes a turn when they steal someone else's reservations at a posh restaurant. The someone else turns out to be a couple blackmailing a corrupt district attorney. Refreshing moments come by way of James Franco and Mila Kunis as the couple in question (hilarious timing, hipster angst) and Mark Wahlberg as a hunky security expert who aids the efforts of Fey/Carrell, though one more joke about his chiseled pecks would have pushed me over the edge. While these character anecdotes were pleasant, they came at the cost of pushing forward the narrative, which seemed to meddle and lose its way. In the midst of the movie, I lost the chase and started to consider time better spent with NBC's Thursday night line-up (Carrell's Michael Scott, Fey's Liz Lemon).

Similarly the Grey Dog Cafe in the East Village doesn't quite pull its promising weight -- cramped tables and lackluster pastry options are disguised by mood lighting and cooler-than-thou aphorisms scrawled on display cases.

With so many entertainment and snacking options in this fantastic city, best to spend your Date Night or afternoon elsewhere.

Greenberg and Breaking Upwards

Strange to pair a Hollywood factory piece with a microfinanced indie playing in one theatre in the west village, but there are definite parallels between Greenberg and Breaking Upwards. Urban couples (LA/NYC respectively) plagued by insecurities and indecision leads to a lot of "will they or won't they?" get together, stay together, overcome their personal issues to show the other they care. While the young hipster couple in Breaking Upwards is challenged by youth and inexperience, Greenberg and the object of his affections deal with aspergers and what I can only diagnose as low self-esteem.

There is a lot to like with Breaking Upwards. It seems to be teaming with passion (the film was written/directed/financed by its stars on a shoestring budget) and some fantastic performances (Julie White, Olivia Thirlby, and Andrea Martin make memorable appearances). While it isn't as polished as the standard fare, it puts forth a valiant and refreshing effort at capturing the voices of its leads. You might say The Graduate if set in the contemporary west village. Watching BU, I felt invested, not only in these characters, but in the new genre they were setting forth.

Though also backed by nuanced and real performances, Greenberg is a hard sit. Sure I believed the desperation and the outbursts, but I couldn't believe for a second that, at forty years old, Roger would make progress. This realization made the realities of Florence, his lost love interest even more bleak. She will never stand up for herself, but she will stand by someone who will never treat her properly. While BU and Greenberg are relationship movies, they highlight the most important relationship, the only one we have is with ourselves. I wish Florence's had a happier ending.

Some movies I've seen and what mood you should be in to see them

It's been way too long since I've blogged on the beanscreen. Yet there has been no shortage of coffee or flicks in my life. With the Oscars behind me, I forge ahead to this year's slate of films.

Valentine's Day - no, I do not believe this to be a contender in any trophy race. Should you see this movie? First I pose this question: Are you a 16-28 year old woman accompanied by 16 other 16-28 year old women? Is that right? Well, do you have access to Love Actually? Oh you don't? Well then sure.

The Last Station -- Big fan of this somewhat flawed biopic about Tolstoy and his wife (the divine Helen Mirren as the obvious inspiration for Anna Karenina). You should see this if you are ready to see the olds getting wild, if you are feeling somewhat ponderous, and romantic. Is that a mood?

Alice in Wonderland -- Tim Burton's latest acid trip which spins the classic story into some warped feminist commentary that takes Alice through Wonderland and into capitalism. Steely gray palates and wonky special effects transform the magical place of childhood fantasy into a sideshow carnival. Meanwhile Johnny Depp dances...to the bank. I was bummed about this highly-anticipated film and have begun to lose trust in Mr. Burton (last good film: Sleepy Hollow was in 1999). You should see this film on netflix while simultaneously doing your nails and cleaning your floor. The distraction will make the narrative less painful.

The Art of the Steal -- You should see this slightly skewed documentary about the legal disputes arising from ownership battles over the famed Barth Collection outside Philadelphia if you want to get really mad at the "Man." While the facts in this piece seem a bit misleading or at times absent without cause, I believe that the powers that be acted wrongly in loaning and "stealing" the works from this institute. I wish the filmmakers had been a bit more unbiased in their tactics, but still.

The Runaways - Dakota Fanning and Kristin Stewart as the rock band helmed by Joan Jett didn't sell me in previews, but turned out to be very captivating as the rebellious femmes. Sure there were tons of cliche shots and set-ups, but overall the film was enjoyable. Nice to see young actresses exploiting their acting chops. See it if you are feeling a bit emo and possibly a little badass.

Hot Tub Time Machine - For those who want a nostalgia trip, or a bromance Hangover style, this is certainly silly and stomach-churning, but surprisingly fulfilling.

And then there were ten...

The time has come for Ms. Bean Screen to go into serious Oscar mania mode. What else is February for? Certainly not college basketball...that's March. Maybe the Winter Olympics? If only to play Where's Waldo to Vancouver locales that have stood in for major cities in countless movies. Exhibit 283826: Hurt Locker. Others: all the Final Destination movies, Blade Trinity, Jennifers Body, all four Scary movies, and 2012. Vancouver is the home of champions.

So the nominations are ten this year, a first for the Academy, and an opportunity to expand the feeling of validation to more than just James Cameron's bank account, and to extend my own earnings to the additional five movies at $12.50 a pop (3D glasses extra).

Without further adieu, part one of brief Best Picture evaluations:

Avatar -- Jeering aside, Dances with Wolves meets Pocahontas meets Ferngully was a mammoth cinematic achievement. Not only did it revive Sigourney Weaver's career, provide weekend entertainment for hordes of American teenage boys, and spawn a nerd language to rival elfin, I think it single-handedly ended the global financial recession. Congrats James Cameron. You may lose on Oscar night, but you have already won.

The Blind Side -- What is great about this film is that it is real. It's about real Americans who help other real Americans. Real Americans who own 90 fast food franchises helping other real Americans who have unnatural athletic abilities that lead to top draft selections by the NFL. Real Americans who can serve as executive producer and personally finance their own Oscar-nomination vehicle. Real. But cynicism aside, I enjoyed this movie. I learned what a left defensive tackle is. Useful.

District 9 -- This film is kafkaesque. Which I love because it is my favorite word. And also, because it aptly describes this zany, DIY dystopic movie where the goody-two shoes bureaucrat becomes the othered illegal outcast among a gang of resourceful prawns with funny accents.

An Education -- All the ingredients for an excellent film and star vehicle. Just the perfect British treat. Like a digestion biscuit. But not a gold one I fear.

The Hurt Locker -- I really think this is the runaway for the Best Picture trophy. Not only is this film an engaging, riveting, poetic look at the Iraq war, both arresting and desensitizing, it's also a glimpse into the humanity of being a soldier. My favorite scene takes place after Jay returns from his mission to grocery shop for cereal and chop vegetables with his wife. There is this overwhelming feeling of suburban anonymity contrasted with the gritty realities of his time on the front lines. He is now in the backlines, the back aisles. He has receded and no one cares. A more full discussion of this film is required. But let it be said now, this film will be honored.

Inglorious Basterds --Call me a Tarantino junkie, a holocaust infohog, but this movie is incredible. Done. Netflix it.