My husOtter Supreme hates it when there’s an Emperor’s New Groove clip on YouTube or there’s some analytical bit somewhere on social media. He knows that I’ll start forwarding it to my bestie out in Colorado and the random quips will start coming from left and right.
“No touchie.”
“Or…to save on postage.”
Such and such. But it was a sign of good writing. A wild and wacky animated trip that brought joy to my world and others, I’m sure.
And it didn’t follow formula, for a Disney movie, at least.
WHich meant, when I watched it for the first time, there were moments where I was engaged at the novelty of it all.
My husband hates when I start quoting The Emperor's New Groove. He knows it means I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole of movie clips again. But those quirks are usually a sign of good writing—the kind of wild, non-formulaic animation that really sticks with you. Which brings me to Pixar’s latest, Hoppers, which is PIXAR’s latest, released last March and now streaming on Disney Plus.
It fits that definition. A wild, non-formulaic animation.
That really sticks with you.
PIXAR makes amazing pictures, we know this. Their worst movie (methinks it is The Good Dinosaur, lemme know your thoughts) is still well constructed, well written, and beautifully shot. There’s a reason they go nomination after nomination and I find myself drawn to them, for even if the movie is predictable, it’s still visually engaging.
Was this worst?
PIXAR likes to take animation and viewers into colorful spaces, which is their overall trademark. Beautiful fish palettes (Finding Nemo and Finding Dory); talking emotions (Inside Out/Inside Out 2); loving elements (Elemental) all take centerstage, a challenge accepted by the animators to bring humanity to things that are not necessarily human. It’s an amazing feat and quite entertaining.
A personal favorite, as it deals with ethnic themes I totally can relate to.
PIXAR’s trademark involves whisking us away to vibrant, color-drenched spaces—those gorgeous fish palettes in Finding Nemo or the neon emotions of Inside Out. So, admittedly, the brown-on-brown aesthetic of Hoppers felt a bit off-the-wall at first glance. Yet, that earthy pond vibe was actually novel, forcing me to dig deeper into the story itself.
And, well, novel. It doesn’t follow the formula.
While last night’s viewing of Hoppers doesn’t have the color palette of so many of their other films, I feel this goes a few steps beyond mid. Yeah, the colors tended to be a bit of the brown-on-brown, with brown branches and brown pond. But this means the viewer would have to get involved in more of the story.
Dang, what a story. Completely unhinged.
Yet, I was intrigued.
Hoppers manages to be as off-the-wall as it is while still feeling like a classic, heartfelt journey. The story follows a young protagonist who, in a desperate attempt to truly understand the world around them, ends up using some advanced, slightly questionable technology to "hop" their consciousness into the minds of animals. Her educator has invented a robot that a brain can be linked to, the ‘hopping’ of the title, and one can control the animal.
Shades of “Avatar” are mentioned in a delicious joke, as a matter of fact.
She uses the tech to coerce the animals of the forest to rise up against the local politician who is going to build through the forest. The whole tale is surprisingly dark, which, as we know, I love, so maybe there’s a reason I enjoyed it a bit more than others. I mean, they talk about animals eating each other with the blase of ordering a latte.
Hilarious.
“YOU AREN’T BOTHERED HE WAS GOING TO EAT YOU?”
“Pond rules. Everyone’s gotta eat.”
Other highlights are terrific vocal turns by John Hamm as the mustache twirling villain, Jerry; Meryl Streep finally doing some animation as the vicious and haughty insect leader of the Council of Animals; and an INCREDIBLE supporting turn by Bobby Moynihan as King George of the beavers. His story arc is so well portrayed that I wanted to keep seeing him on screen, just a good person doing good things.
But all this is manic. There’s little emotional beats like PIXAR has rolled out before, like at the end of their Toy Story tales, Inside Out, or Up.
Do I recommend it?
Yeah, actually I do.
It’s not top tier PIXAR, but like Emperor’s New Groove, it’s fun, wacky, and really engaging. It’s a story first focus, and I dig that, and always will. It prioritizes a fun story over the heavy handedness that seems to go with anti technology and pro climate proselytizing that comes out at times. Just a bit of old school storytelling hidden in a wild premise.
There’s a scene, in the last episode, which I just finished of this horror prequel series, where the camera affords itself an establishing shot from inside of the gymnasium of Derry’s unfortunate high school.
It states, “Home of the Trappers.”
I remember it clearly, since I was a Trailblazer, whatever that was, way back in those awful high school years.
The camera then pans down to a wide variety of early 60s youth marching into the space. With the supporting characters providing commentary, in walks one of the students dressed as a terrapin. Big shell on their back, huge mascot head.
There.
Right there.
No, it did not pull me out of the moment-but it was confusing, as like, the establishing shot said, clearly….TRAPPERS.
That’s a tortoise, a turtle.
A shell game.
But this mild confusion really populated this entire show and illustrated, in a few brief moments, why this program was probably not the best that HBO has to offer in the horror television program theater. Which is weird, because one of the things I watched immediately upon getting HBOMax just last year was the incredible “The Outsider.” Oddly, I had not read that book, but the show was immense and really worked as a whole with the time to have many characters working towards a very specific end.
Serving as a dark, stylized prequel to Andy Muschietti’s “It” films, “Welcome to Derry” plunges viewers into 1962 to map the psychological rot of America’s most cursed small town.
The series follows a group of local kids and families, including a young Dick Hallorann, as they navigate the town’s systemic violence, trauma, and prejudice, all while Bill Skarsgård’s Pennywise begins to stir from his 27-year slumber.
It is less of a traditional slasher and more of a grand, tragic piece of cosmic horror, showing that while the monster under the town is terrifying, the rot inside the townspeople themselves is what truly feeds the beast.
Sounds tasty, doesn’t it?
I love me some Stephen King. Like Harry Potter for a certain generation, from about 6th grade onwards, Mr. King’s novels kept me reading and reading some more. I had even tackled IT, but it was a bit of a slog at over 900 pages, making the media based them longer titles. I liked the movies in recent memory, and I liked the miniseries.
And I was stoked at the first fifteen minutes even here, with its horrific encounter with the famed Pennywise.
And then? It stopped. The whole premise was just stopped. The convoluted plot had the monster making longer and longer and longer plots to creep out the kiddoes before devouring them–at least Freddy Krueger had a nightmare to work with.
This?
If the clown beast was that hungry, why are they playing with their food so much?
It became nonsense, making the more poignant moments seem like lip service for heady topics like racism. At one point, they were blaming the occasional disappearance on minorities that came and went.
Okay, that’s something…but then nothing more happened.
And as a prequel? It does have an opportunity to retcon items, for sure. But, in this version of the story, THE ENTIRE STUDENT BODY is kidnapped and turned into thralls.
THis was never reported. Everyone seems out of whack when it comes to Pennywise in the actual novel, movie. I don’t know about you, but if an entire high school is kidnapped, yes, there would be headlines.
And that storyline, btw?
Dropped.
Even literally.
Even with the welcome presence of Bill Skarsgård, he just bites and yells, giving some energy to the scenery, but unless he’s on the screen, there’s not much to watch, unfortunately. The CGI is also pathetic, with a snow storm that kicks up out of nowhere, just to give characters reasons to not see each other in the grand finale.
Folks. Skip this one. Go watch “Stranger Things.” or “The Outsider.” Or the movie, “IT.”
Summer has officially begun. The academic shackles are off, and the post-school decompression process is already in full swing. I’m back home, soaking in the summer vibes. A little creative writing to start (we begin small, friends), a deep dive into my reading—fiction and non—because absorbing the work of others is critical.
A quick word on stress.
The old days involved a second gig—interpreting, bless its well-meaning heart. Highly rewarding work, they said. Nominal pay, I remember. My esophagus still burns thinking about the responsibility of helping people make important decisions.
So, no.
WHile important, it was a bit much.
The last few years, I’ve had the supreme luxury, thanks to my long-suffering (and beloved) HusOtter Supreme, to choose self-focus.
When you shed that external layer of obligation, the internal infrastructure demands attention. Meditation stretches from a panicked sixty seconds to something resembling actual contemplation. The gym becomes a sanctuary, not a rushed stop on a sprint. The stories that used to rattle around my noggin as quick short-story sprints are now finally getting the elbow room they need to become proper, full-bore novels.
Also, I’ve stopped eating like a competitive garbage disposal. Consistency, my friends, is key, in writing and in one's pants size.
And the research begins.
Streaming was a gift sent from the narrative gods to those of us who appreciate a good, thick plot. I’m an old comic-book kid—I thrive on serialized narrative, symbolism, and the simple, profound joy of watching writers, designers, and actors doing what they do best. I believe, fundamentally, in the power of story, regardless of its quality.
You sit back, you process.
What worked, what didn't?
It’s a necessary mental software update. The goal is to think in beginnings, middles, and ends. A quaint notion, perhaps, in an age where the collective attention span—and I'm talking about folks of all ages, not just the TikTok generation—is being surgically reduced. We are, as a rule, moving toward glorious, chaotic entropy.
It’s just physics, really.
Stories, the good ones, are the only things that impose order on the chaos.
That might sound like I'm only talking about fiction, but honestly, even nonfiction is just narrative presented in a slightly more buttoned-up suit (a topic for another post, alas!). I once heard a perfect summation: fiction is invented problem-solving; nonfiction is real problem-solving. Both, however, serve as that critical 'flight simulator' for our emotions. I have no current plans for a space station launch, but understanding human response in an "excessively hostile environment" remains universally relevant.
So, here we are, back at the keyboard.
This blog is my new laboratory for narrative, both invented and observed. Narrative is not just a tool; it is the very architecture of human consciousness. It’s how we build identity, transmit culture, and hold the existential dark at bay. It is profoundly important—but precisely because it is so powerful, we must choose with care which stories we believe, and which ones we commit to telling.Support systems are already mobilizing. The HusOtter Supreme has commenced the ritual of tactical coffee refills, ensuring caffeine levels remain optimized. Meanwhile, Dottie—the fluffier half of our corgi contingent—has assumed her role as a living, breathing foot-warmer. It’s the domestic architecture of a writer finding their rhythm again.
Why does such crap and drivel like The Human Centipede exist. Well? It's probably like porn. Where everyone tires their best to stare at the screen the longest in some kind of double-dare situation. The images become paramount, only merely bolstered by something resembling a plot just to get to this scene or that.
Sorta like reverse porn, I suppose.
But I see no purpose in it, myself. Sometimes, buried deep within such films is a moment of solace, a message that must be conveyed and this is the only way.
Rarely, however, does a message get conveyed with completely revolting an audience from watching the title in the first place, but, hey, you win more friends with honey then vinegar.
But I suppose some film makers are very, very unhappy, and, well, if there's punk music?
There's disturbing cinema.
Usually the stuff of film festivals, they rarely make a market beyond the dark web, late night DVD rentals when those still existed, and someone who wants to illustrate their emotional stamina.
I'm not any of these things.
But I get it. There are movies out there that cross the line and, given my movie watching habits, I've stumbled across a title here and there.
Many of them, truly, aren't even worth the effort. if you don't like riding roller coasters, why wait in line at all? So I took this request for another movie listing and went with titles I did see and was disturbed in some manner. But I have found it is more related to where I was in life than maybe, perhaps what was portrayed onscreen.
For the first time, here's a list I do not recommend, as it were, outside of the stout of heart and the stupid.
In no real order, because they are all sick-sick-sick.
Okay, maybe not Pink Flamingos. That one? The darkest of comedies. Seriously. Take a look at it. That one IS a statement about how flipping stupid people are, and how we glorify trash. Metaphoric trash, but trash, nonetheless.
I've mentioned it here before on this blog and it, believe it or not, there's some merit to auteur John Waters' magnum opus, really. It's a tale of disgusting people doing disgusting things. And they're laughing.
And yes, there's that one scene, that ONE scene that literally will send you running to the bathroom, if not outright gagging.
It involves a dog doing its business. And my research has informed that scene was truly improved by the goddess that is Divine, the gap toothed drag performer that leads the picture.
In fact, it has been a badge of honor for many to watch this film all the way through for many a young critic.
But the rest?
Take a look at We Need To Talk About Kevin/American Psycho. I started off reading these titles, and, yes, the disturbing matter was truly baked into the thematic elements that arrived on the screen. Hence, I lump them together. Somewhere inside of me, I figured once I watched the film counterparts of these titles something might become more cohesive for me, making the plot and main ideas gel. The first takes a parent's guilt of raising a child that becomes a school shooter.
See? Joyful content.
And it isn't even horror.
But it is about the role of a mother and how an entire system is set up for failure, how we lean into what we want to be good and ignore those outside in need of help.
At least, that's what I think it was communicating. There are also profound statements about why people have children (I still, I admit, after so many years of teaching, why so many do), the parent-child relationship, marriage and the outdated images of the nuclear family, and the limits of love and loyalty. It also shows a parent, more than the killer, who is incapable to love her own child-and the impact that following societies strange requirements ("you're married now, have kids!") even when you don't want to.
And while I may not agree with the author or the filmmakers messages on such images, I walked away from both the book and the movie with a profound sadness. It bothered me, because I saw similar things. People having kids without thought, without the ability to provide, or not participating in the process of raising those kids--which is profoundly evident with the presence of phones.
Having the echo bothered me, making this film pop up on my list of movies I found personally bothersome. Along with the second title, American Psycho. The randomness of the protagonist, a strangely clean serial killer and yuppie, was almost a comedy, a dark comedy, of absurdist parody. In in, a Patrick Bateman just kills as he wishes too, but because he is so wealthy, no one really stops him.
And his victims? Also wealthy people, has no one to care for them, too, so they die, meaningless, slowly and horribly, and that's it.
I get the themes here.
But by having not one redeeming character in the entire story means, well, we can't even feel remorse. I suppose, in the end, that's the point. They don't care, neither should we.
So why make the tale at all?
Cannibal Holocaust
Title says it all, doesn't it? In fact, this mockumentary surfaced long before there was a Blair Witch Project. It deals with a modern film crew heading to film a cannibalistic tribe, and slowly becomes their next group of victims. The films is showed in a series of found footage montages and, yes, it's absolutely disgusting. The theme is simple, about how modern living lauds itself over native thought and the result?
Violence.
In fact, the film was so awful, it was taken to court to prove that it wasn't a snuff film and that, in the end, everyone was fine and were merely performers.
But the animals were actually killed, on screen, so there was that.
Why, on Earth did I subject myself to this?
I worked at a video store and figured, well, lemme see if I hack this. It can't be that bad, right? it's probably just a drive in movie kinda thing.
Nope.
It is vile.
As it blares on, the audience is so tired of being appalled, that you become numb and walk away. There's an overarching tale that takes on a television wanting to present said found cannibal footage, and the theme changes, about sensationalism and voyeurism.
A mess of a film.
DRAMATIC PAUSE: I noticed something. There's two kinds of sicko films. Ones that mess you up on the outside. These are the torture porn titles that do their best to get you to gag. The gross-outs, the Human Centipedes. These titles really aren't about the narrative, only in as much to bring you to the next thing. However, there are some films that are just disturbing on the inside. Ones that linger in your mind like a bad taste in your mouth; things you can't shake three days later. Not that they made you sick, but made you very concerned for humanity as a whole.
I'm that here as I read and write. Cannibal Holocaust? Yeah, outer vileness that leads to that inner reflection. But American Psycho? Talking about Kevin? Those hit notes in your head.
I get it now.
Natural Born Killers is excellent movie and probably one of the more approachable titles on this list. Written with blistering speed, it makes fun of itself, a telling exposition about our own willingness to watch violence and nightmare images. It is an interesting take on the Starkweather mass murderer from 1958. Since the title is made with such a big director, Oliver Stone, the movie was able to pull into its circle a series of incredible performers who take the shock and turn it into a profound dark comedy.
So why is it disturbing, if it is so approachable?
Like at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, where everyone who looked at the opening of the eponymous ark died, yet we, the audience keep looking AT THE SAME EXACT THING; this film is about watching people murder others for their amusement. Repeatedly. In fact, they kidnap a newsman and a camera and just keep going and going through the motions, talking about their incoming fame for being spree killers.
And we keep watching.
Worse? It is done with such hyperbole and strange camera angles, as to almost be comical. There's even one flashback that is given as a sitcom presentation, with canned laughter and audiences applauding.
At first? I thought it was just the director making lite of the contents of the story. Alas, it is to keep our heads spinning with thoughts.
Don't Fuck with Cats
Whoa.
This one is a documentary. It has long been known that serial killers start by killing animals. At least that's what the data shows.
And, on the web, people will watch anything. In a world like ours, where we can edit on our home computers and do sound dubbing on our laptops, we have become numb to photography evidence. It takes more than visual input to figure out if something is real or not. So someone stumbling across a very skinny man brutalizing a kitten (no, they don't show it or run the audio, you're good, but, even the SUGGESTION is disturbing), sets into motion something very interesting.
That there are still good people in the world. The video starts a dialogue. Then some amateur sleuthing. Then another video is spotted, and more sleuthing.
And...they set about finding the person. Either this is real, and he should be nabbed before he escalates, or it isn't, and he should be taken to task for disturbing the emotional peace of so many.
I won't tell you end, but it is disturbing...very much so. But on the inside.
However, this is one of the few that I don't regret watching. Thanks Netflix.
Seven
Tim Burton has an amazing ability to match the setting to the tale. It's his true strong point. His stories and presentations can only live in those four corners of the screen. However, due to that, there's something to be said about such profound fictional (even real places are made over to his liking, making the real...fake) locales and how they keep the audience at arms length. It's using the art form to the fullest. I'm using Tim's skills, because you've probably seen his titles, and get the gist of what I'm saying. Setting communicates a ton of the tone of a tale. The movie, Seven, does the same by the incredible filmmaker, David Finchner. He, too, gives us a world that, even in the broad spectrum of the light of the day, the seedy underbelly of existence cannot escape the characters or the audience. In this title, he tells the story of a serial killer that bases his murders on the seven deadly sins. Strangely, he does it because he sees the growing tide of angst in every day life, and wants to communicate their eventual end. The movie defines a modern day film noir, with the two detectives find and fishing for every clue in every tenement, sewer, charnel house and brothel that a modern city can have in today's digital age. The horrors mount and even though, we, as a populace are cruel to each other on a daily basis, we are still shocked by the killer's creative staging and murders.
This movie?
This one will disturb you on the inside. There are some gory scenes, for relevance, but the thoughts this film generates linger.
When I was in the period of strange wonderment between my divorce and finding the true love my life, I went and saw a LOT of movies.
But never the comedies. Never the ha-ha stuff.
I noticed this trend for years, before and since. I'd go to things like that with my friends or colleagues or to write a review for the papers.
It was, as if, like, I could never laugh in public. I hated laughing with just me and the screen. I had to really push myself to go.
Of course, my ex loved Ace Ventura, which should tell you volumes about his grasp on this reality. But, no, I never really got into the comedy stuff.
Weird, right? The other odd part was that I'd think horror movies were comedic. I mean, really, a slasher with a hockey mask and NO ONE DOES ANYTHING? Hilarious.
As I complied this list of movies that I enjoyed that were comedic, I did notice a few trends in my tastes. These are not the best comedies, for sure. They are just titles that kept me interested for the two hour or so moments they flashed on the silver screen.
*) Obviously, there's a profound slant on the gay stuff or queer sensibilities. Either queer characters appear, it's written by a gay author, or, fudge, the entire movie comes out as a drag show.
*) I noticed there's a darkness in the corners of many of these titles. Death is a reoccurring theme for many of these movies. It's not that I find death and such things something to laughed out. It's that I find them strong burdens on all of our psyches and a decent giggle at them reduces their power and holds over us. And? Ghosts. Zombies. It's like I enjoy when the horror gets stuck in the creepy stuff.
*) Criticism. Many of these titles are profound amount of criticism in their presentations. Many are a microcosm of society and make deep statements about their places in the universe. Some are upright sending of social mores and generalized stupidity in politics.
*) All of them are pretty rough cuts. Watch with caution.
Several of these titles I'll just name and such and move on, for their are discussed, ad nauseum, elsewhere. I am nothing, if not consistent in my feelings and preferences, so you have me there. Go back over throughout this blog and see if you can find their commentary.
Some titles are newer. Enjoy.
The previous titles mentioned in this blog?
The Birdcage (queer representation and social criticism)
Addams Family Values (queer sensibilities and social criticisms)
Death Becomes Her (Dark, dark, dark comedy...and queer sensibilities)
Clerks (profound social criticisms)
Any and all Jackie Chan titles (okay, this doesn't work with the above information. This? Jackie's movies are movies for movies' sake. Like riding a roller coasters. Just joyful fun.)
And all of them? Hilarious. Clerks was the first time I laughed until tear ran down my face in a theater.
Onto the list:
Airplane!
During the height of the epidemic, husOtter and myself were dying from boredom. I've watched so many movies that streaming had become a slog and the novel stuff was not holding my interest. We had to get out and we noticed something that Florida had that Colorado didn't.
Drive In Movies.
We were off. Better? We could relax a bit, since we were allowed to take the corgis, too.
And we had the best time.
However, Hollywood doesn't make money off of the drive in theaters. What do they make money on? People buying tickets. So, like the streaming? I had to watch titles I had already seen before.
And Airplane! was playing.
We both noticed new things. This film, a send up of the crappy 70s disasters movies from the decade prior to its 80s release, is so chock full of sight gags, toilet humor, sarcasm, wit, and overall attitude, the comedy cannot be avoided, even if you turned the sound off.
It's hilarious. I mean, anyone would laugh. Like anyone. Dead people.
It's incredible.
GhostBusters
This is an odd one. Cause it's not truly a comedy, but more of a comedy/horror/adventure mix.
But there it was, a mix of everything I hold dear as an 8th grader. Ghosts? Click. Light comedy? Click. And an actioner, to boot. Worked for me. In fact, I really enjoyed the reboot that came out in 2021. But, that? That wasn't a comedy, more of a mystery. But, yeah, there you go. Can't go into depth about something that doesn't have much.
A Fish Called Wanda
Generated by Mr. John Cleese to teach Americans how English comedy and American comedy are wholly different, yet very much linked, this title is an amazing piece of writing and wit. It take the stereotypes of two very different cultures and slams them against each other to terrific effect, getting awards for both Cleese and an incredible performance from Kevin Kline, playing the violence obsessed American.
But it is also buried in a cute romantic tale that shows what each culture lacks is what we give to each other. And it ends up being a rollicking, if very R rated, tale.
Some Like it Hot
How do you bring gay culture to American mainstream in the mid fifties? You have superstars Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis, already matinee stars, being will to do drag. Further proof that drag has always been part of the landscape. I don't get why people don't think about it. Not only that, it's as if they understood such a large audience, trapped in a national closet, were watching, because these two straight dudes cut a swatch of queerness that's literally an entire comedy drag show.
Heck, it even has queer icon Marilyn Monroe.
Better? Jack LOVES having the men pay attention to him. No irony.
An amazing piece of comedy, too. It just builds and builds without a care and is as tight as a tightrope in pacing.
Shaun of the Dead
Here's another trend I'm noticing. These comedies are all, like a mix of another genre and the jokes themselves. But the thing about this comedy? It's a delicious tale about how society resists change and refuses to adapt to new situations, dangerous situations, even if it means we'll all be dead.
Sound familiar? Here, we have everyone in the middle of a zombie attack, but, instead of solving the problem? They decide to quest for beer. Not the best choice. In fact, even when presented with new evidence that leaving is a bad idea or going outside is really a poor choice? They still go.
Yeah. Look at the ongoing pandemic.
Hilarious. Art imitates life imitates art.
Blazing Saddles/The Producers
I'm not going to post a trailer.
Because it's offensive. Seriously.
And that's a good thing. Steven Speilberg has stated, quite directly, he's done with making Nazis bad guys and that we can laugh of them. They are a serious, nightmarish, group that, somehow, thrives today. But he did add, "Let Mel Brooks do it."
Mel is the epitome of Jewish comedy. If you don't think you're laughing at Jewish humor, you've not been paying attention. Jewish culture has defined entertainment from the start, from the Marx brothers to the remake of West Side Story. It's intertwined, deliciously so, with our American way of understanding humor and what it does for us.
And Mel Brooks is the perfect example. Comedy? Comedy is conflict. Comedy is social commentary. Sure, we're laughing so we can digest our thoughts better; maybe laughing because we're so uncomfortable with the topic, we have to laugh. Both of these titles play these out. Blazing Saddles hammers home the stupidity that is racism, hides it in a great Western tale, and slaps you silly with absurdism that is actually still around us. Understand, he is respectful to all the parties involved. No one is free from his critical eye.
Stuff you see even in the Simpsons and Family Guy. It is all so appalling you can't even turn away.
He even examines how we're so racist that a Nazi musical becomes the toast of the town in the Producers.
Borat
Again, here ya go. A ripsnorter on American stupidity and how it is rampant in our culture. Borat is an annoying little man, played by comedian Sasha Baron Cohen. But what he does? Just stands there, being stupid. One of two things happens. People are disarmed and show their true sides and how fracking stupid they are.
Or how good they truly are.
The drawback? Sasha sometimes takes the joke a bit too far and people who are doing good are slightly abused by his character. But the insight that it provides overall?
It borders on horrific.
But it reminds us. As far as we have come, we SO have to get it together.
Movies are my salvation. Not only was I denied access to the Disney parks during the serious throws of the epidemic; movies, the simple act of going to the theater, was also taken from me. That was serious, very serious to my soul. Disney? Expensive and a trek.
Movies? Five minutes from the theater.
Yes, yes, yes, there's streaming.
I'm aware of that, and it filled that space, but not by much. When I'm at home, the sense of escapism that seems so necessary to balm my wounds, is removed. I'm still on the couch, ungraded papers a mere few paces away, hissing at my brain like basket-ed cobra, waiting to strike. The dog still need to go out; that laundry needs to be folded. Even a mere five minutes away was far enough that my heartbeat starts to drop so dramatically that my Fitbit registers me as sleeping.
Which is kinda cool, too.
None of that.
We've eased ourselves into theater going again, taking advantage of pre-ordered tickets, where we can establish were we sit far from the maddening crowds.
Wait.
There's not even those. People have stopped going to the movies out here in the countryside. Never was particularly big to begin with.
So?
So there. That's why I've had movies on the brain. Even Entertainment Tonight (I know, drivel, but, hey, better than watching the news) had nothing to report for eons. Those gaps hit and they hit hard.
More movie talk again with this input.
Foreign movies are hip and cool.
Or so I like to think. For me? As a fiction writer, I have the Western storyline down pat, I like to think. Rarely does it waver. And that's okay, it works for most of the stories I like. However, seeing a picture from overseas opens up the audience to what other countries know, see, believe, revere, and hate. I remember in undergraduate having a Russologist and specialist in Slavic cultures and presented. Remember, I went to college in the late 80s, where Reagan was doing his best to keep the Cold War strong so his cronies can keep earning cash from profiteering. So Russia and the Eastern Bloc were still an enigma for me and many at our small college. To have someone come in and complete the simple act of putting Russian television opened my eyes and my perception of the world at large. They had kid cartoons, just like us. Instead of the evil KGB villains in our films? They had a tv miniseries (and, yes, they apparently had miniseries) where, you guessed it, the evil CIA was trying to undermine something or other.
Changed my world.
Not that was too far for me to grasp. Working in a video store for the past three years, I was able to view a variety of overseas pictures and start the journey. But those titles? Those were the popular ones, with images or tales that attracted Americans to it.
And had a great many naked people, for some reason. Oh. Wait.
Somethingsomething Americans are uptight. Violence? Sure. Naked people? Nope.
I noticed this list tends to be on the more recent side. Makes sense. As I grew up and older, I got it, I understood more.
Except for the martial arts stuff.
Loved that from day one. Didn't even need subtitles. I got it. Maybe it was a past life, or maybe, like porn, you don't need much to understand what's going on. I started small.
Jackie Chan.
In fact, let's just include him, here. The dude rocked. This was Buster Keaton/Charlie Chaplin stuff-crossed very language barrier.
And was hilarious AND thrilling. Like riding a decent roller coaster with a good friend. The laughs and fun are worth the effort.
Escapism for any culture.
The Legend of the Drunken Master
This title is actually a sequel, but released in the United States as the first title. Doesn't matter. Plot? Jackie's roustabout needs a good, strong, drink to unleash his inner kung fu master. Nope. No stunt double. These are women and men doing everything themselves.
And it is jawdropping.
What is weird, too, given the violence? It comes off as cartoon-y. Even the heavy drinking aspect. I would actually feel safe with watching with kids. There's frequent sly winks to the camera, as if he's warning us this is all in good fun. Mr. Chan even stuffs the end credits with outtakes, emphasizing the work, craft, and danger.
Highly recommend it.
La Dolce Vita
I watch TMZ. Entertainment Tonight. Access: Hollywood.
And I should know better. This movie, made by Italian master filmmaker, Federico Fellini, is a blistering take on fame and celebrity. Having watched it recently, I realized, damn, the dude was looking into internet culture before it was a thing.
It is horribly accurate about how our own boredom and obsessions ruin lives. How we stop seeing the movie stars we vault as human and seeing them as things. Just the things we don't want to be seen as. It is the tale of a gossip columnist and his own guilt at having to follow stars around Rome and basically harass them until they talk or go crazy and respond.
Amazing.
I am just as guilty with watching the results as much as I am about discussing the movie that should shame me.
Seven Samurai
I was never a fan of the Western, per se. They tended to all appear the same for me, and really the story could be better told, elsewhere.
Then I saw Seven Samurai.
I got it. A loving look back at Japanese history, I could see why Americans tend to venerate the frontiers our country had and the lack of structure that it proposed. Here? Ancient Japan, lawless as well, where a small town, with no protection or police, bands their cash together to hire mercenaries to stop a series of bandit attacks. But the mercenaries are more then that. They are samurai. Their purpose is to protect and to live and die by the katana/sword.
What ends up happening is a rousing adventure while seeing what a culture looks up to.
Again, violent, and a completely different presentation of martial arts films that are shown by China. Chinese tales serious or not, use their choreographed body language as the special effect, the spectacle. In Japan? Martial arts are more integrated, an art form to explain the different characters. And here? There are seven men, each unique. One old, a leader; one young, unsure of his skill; each an archetype.
Even a wild card, who we aren't sure about.
Enjoy. It is long, but so worth it.
Wild Strawberries
This is another title where I accidentally discovered it's existence when I was working at a projectionist in my undergrad years. It's one of those movies where I should be interested, it's merely a bunch of people talking, but I noticed I became more and more involved in this sweet character study of a man who flashbacks to his past (much like Citizen Kane), and all the horrible memories. But once they are duly noted, his memories sweeten. As he experiences these flashbacks, he's heading to an awards ceremony for all of his life's work. But the reward is meaningless. It's his memories that define him. As he elects to settle on the good his life has experienced he...
...give it a watch. The title is a Swedish idiom, for that sweet secret spot that only one person knows about.
The Wedding Banquet
For years, foreign and art movies, indie titles, were the only place where I could see my existence. Remember, representation matters. And having grown up during the AIDS crisis, I never saw myself on any screen, and if I did? The gay person was dying. Or a wit, and dying. Or killed themselves. Or was evil.
Then? Literally one month after coming out, the Advocate LGBTQ magazine told me about this title, and I noticed it was playing at my favorite art house movie theater.
Ang Lee is one of the best filmmakers ever.
And he created this incredibly simple tale, that is light hearted and real. Almost like a My Big Fat Greek Wedding for the queer set. And, while the gayness was part of the plot, there was no violence, no negativity. In fact, it becomes a statement about how the old ways can apply to the new present, and how ethnicity plays into culture. Very good stuff.
Kingdom
I love me some zombie fun action.
Korea, apparently, does too.
This is like a good Walking Dead, where it doesn't manipulate the audience to keep you watching commercials and protracting long dying scenes to make us uncomfortable. Instead? A period drama about medieval Korea, with knights and ladies and court intrigue. I may be cheating here, but this is actually a miniseries, and I was riveted, like reading a decent novel. Twists are in every episode and, yes, this is what horror television should be like.
The Killer
I've frequently mentioned my things for Asian film and the aesthetic that goes along with it.
But I may not have exhausted that love.
Here? Here is pure Hong Kong cinema. A delicious mashup of east and west that that vibrant city has and represents, and you couldn't get any cooler than Chow Yun-fat's super cool hit man. This movie, and many more from John Woo and this actor occupy a place that cannot truly be defined outside of its style. Drama? Film Noir? Comedy? Does it matter? Everyone is in on the take the violence is wild and alluring. There's no concept of physics with the ways these bullets fly; people don't just get shot, they explode. Think John Wick long before there was a John Wick.
It served to even deepen my love for this particular style of cinema, which the public would lovingly begin to call "gun-fu."
Violent? Oh fuck yes. But awesomely entertaining.
Cinema Paradiso
A movie about the role movies and narrative play in our lives; how movies mark the passage of our place as we go through life. Yes, a deciousy nod to all things movies, and I might be lazy to list it here, as it is such an outright crowd pleaser.
But hear me out.
If you watch movies, at all, this movie will warm your heart.
It tells of a projectionist and his young protege and the movies that are playing in the background of their daily existence in Italy at the local cinema. We all know where we were when we saw Star Wars. Or Casablanca. And the emotions we felt. This film captures that and slaps it onto the screen. To this day, it is one of my favorites.
Cause I love the movies.
Crouching Tiger/Hidden Dragon
Everything old is new again.
Take all the things I loved about classic martial arts movies.
And then awaken it to the needs and wants of a modern audience. Ang Lee grew up in Hong Kong and loved the kicking ass aspect of those titles as a boy, just as much as I did. But today's society? They don't ring true.
So he made a feminist drama with martial arts and swords.
And the film is enchanting-and kicks many asses. We have forbidden loves, honor, faith, secrets, all the plots of a Shakespearean court drama. And yet? We break away for incredible fights.
Many American audiences, hearing the buzz, laughed at the first fight scene, having never seen people suddenly leap across rooftops without breaking an ankle. But by the finale? The realities the film created were easily accepted and applauded. By a movie that wasn't even in English.
Bravo.
And there you have it. Some more titles to consider should you need something to watch.
I have to say, I was born for loving independent film. My generation did not float in on the tide that was the French New Wave.
Nope.
Instead, we founded our first indie with Kevin Smith's delicious yuckfest, Clerks.
But, me? Me? I was ahead of the curve. Totally ahead of the curve. I liked Starbuck's before there was one even close to my house. I had drive my little VW Bug all the way into Cherry Creek to indulge in a mocha.
And to also escape?
The Aztec Theater. A delicious art house movie theater slapped every rando title it could to be edgy and fascinating and all that.
But they still had popcorn.
And coffee.
And I could watch LGBT themed titles without fear in at atmosphere that wasn't seedy or treated poorly. In fact, when I could go, LGBTQ+ newspapers were always free for the taking. This was long before there was an internet. It was a different world. The AIDS crisis had been raging, I was young and couldn't identify, completely what it was that I was yearning for, and, in the end, there was a good movie.
Mostly.
And independent movie is just that. Someone made a movie. Rarely do they have a studio to distribute the title, but sometimes they do, should they make to Cannes or Sundance festivals and get adopted. These films deal with themes and topics that the mainstream doesn't necessarily wish to address for whatever reason. That would include LGBTQ+ topics. Violence. Racism. The films are sometimes films about minorities, made by minorities. Sometimes they deal with expression or don't follow conventional western plot structures or are merely character studies. They are frequently folded in with documentaries and forieign film.
The Oscars lie before us. I found last year's was so interesting, being I could watch the titles at home, when I was relaxed and easily distracted. This lead to a very different emotional experience. It's important to note, being the kinds of films these are, yes, they seem to deal with fringe themes and, yes, being who I am, there's more than a few LGBTQ titles on the list.
But use this to enhance your viewing experience and to, yes, expand your mind. I think you won't be disappointed.
Kick-Ass
I, for some reason, enjoyed this movie in complete defiance of its central theme. That heroes are violent, period. They complete violent acts. They destroy homes, people, lives.
And yet, because the film is so completely made, with strong protagonists and delicious villains, it became just as engaging and fun as any MCU picture.
It's weird that way.
It's novel approach leads to a novel experience. I recommend it.
Kung Fu Hustle This was an interesting one. Most films out of Hong Kong probably could be considered an indie title, but here? The filmmaker, Stephen Chow, was not considered mainstream, even by China's martial arts standards. He took the skill of Jet Li, the comedy of Jackie Chan, and made an absurdist title that involves a violent "Ax" gang (axes? Why not?) and takes every kung fu trope and instead of playing it forward, emphasizes it to the nth degree. If you can throw a punch throw a person into a wall, why not take most of the building down?
These exaggerations get bigger and bigger and the film becomes a gleeful joy from beginning to end. I wasn't sure about going to pay for it. My husOtter was new to martial arts titles. But I had to taken him to another title, "Hero" by Jet Li, which is, truly, a dance movie, filmed with motion combined with aesthetics. It was breathtaking.
And boring.
And he actually liked it. I knew if he could digest that title? Perhaps it was time to move up the food chain to truly wonderful fights.
Kung Fu Hustle fit the bill.
Amelie
One thing that mainstream cinema sells?
Violence. Every film is filled with conflict. Verbal. Physical. Emotional.
What if a polite little French film took the protagonist in a different direction. I was torn between this or another title that is quite similar, "Chocolat" about people finding their way in a world hellbent on destroying itself. Here? We have the young lady of the title returning items she find in a hole in a wall of her apartment and, slowly, changing the world of the people who discover the lovely items.
Is there dark parts?
Actually yes. But because of the brevity, it balances nicely and makes for a film that carries audiences in a completely different direction than expected. The tone is light and, in the end, joyful.
Pink Flamingos
This is the only film on this list I encourage you to actively avoid. Unless, of course, you are of strong physical constitution.
This film is vile.
And that's the funny part.
See, movies don't have to make you happy. They probably do, but they don't have to. Art, in and of itself, is merely there. You bring to it your own personal visions and thoughts and that interaction is the purpose. John Waters is an artist. And his art is like Andy Warhol's. Andy saw art in the mundane. John saw that art doesn't have to match the couch.
He made movies that were not horror.
But are horrific.
He made movies that were disgusting.
But are hilarious.
The ironies and mocking of social status and profoundly idiotic norms are slapped across the screen with all the depth of a high school AV club making a class project. He just didn't care. Everyone does their own thing in front of the camera. There's deeper issues, but you won't get to them, because the images are so bizarre and seemingly random, you'll be too busy wondering if your popcorn might return.
It is true, delicious, absurd-ism. His female lead is the incredible personality that is the drag queen Divine. All of his movies have her. All of his movies are in Baltimore.
And there's a lot of poop.
You've been warned.
But the indie title (if you watched the trailer, you'll see that they don't actually play scenes from the midnight movie, it is THAT bad of a movie) is just that-showing things you'd never see in a movie.
Reservoir Dogs
I will always give credit to the power of the writer. Like John Waters, Quentin Tarantino didn't care what you think. He thought about the story, the characters, and their interactions. He made movies that were, truly, a remake of every genre that came before it. Often violent, completely thick with story, and massively dialogued, these titles were mesmerizing.
His art started here.
He took an action movie and made it into something I had never seen. An entire action title in one room. The bullets fly, for sure; blood is spewed, but, alas, the story carries the real conflict. Everything that he did in the mainstream, he did here, first, in this dark, small, comedic title about a jewelry heist gone wrong and someone is a cop in the group.
But it doesn't rely on chase scenes or special effects. The acting and the story take center stage, and, by the end, you, like everyone else, is unsure where the tale is going.
Not a single trope to be found; and if there is a trope? It's used hilariously.
For example, if someone gets shot, there's not just blood.
THERE'S GUSHING BLOOD.
It has to be seen to be believed.
Little Miss Sunshine The 'talkie' emphasis that is an indie movie is what brings us to the screen, but the majority tend to be those titles that take themselves too seriously, to dramatically, trying to impress the crowd with their self endowed importance.
Lofty and upright goals, nothing wrong, but sometimes preaching to the choir isn't something I want or need to see.
Then there's this tasty little title. Slapped together with powerhouse plays from Greg Kinnear, Toni Collette, and Alan Arkin (he won a well deserved Oscar for his small role), this a crowd pleaser that wasn't meant to be. A nasty look at how modern expectations have left the concept of reality behind, a family takes a road trip to a beauty pageant for their daughter.
And every comedic note lands. This isn't mocking the leads. The leads, here, aren't bright, but they're not stupid at all. The world is just bad for this lovely family and they deserve more. In the end, they get back at the class warfare, but not without cost.
You'll crack up the whole way. Watch Steve Carell in a small, terrific supporting role, also Oscar worthy.
Moonlight
Three short films about coming of age that I, to this day, watched, sight unseen when it was released.
And went slack jawed. A naturalistic film, almost a character study, this film was not what I expected. It tells a tale that literally no one knows, about growing up as an African American/black man in America. The pacing is lanquid, organic, with bursts of violence that makes us personally feel the outrage.
I had no idea where it was going, but there was so much honesty in the presentation, I almost felt like I was intruding on a private life and, in the end, I believe that is what the filmmaker was going for. Dark corners, secret conversations, personal questions are slapped on the screen and...
...you see why it won Best Picture. An INCREDIBLE piece of filmmaking.
Not one of the studios wanted it. It's too natural, to deep.
And that is exactly why it was so excellent.
Blair Witch Project
Horror is great. If you make it hokey, it just goes right to Netflix and people will still watch it. Special effects are easy to make, too. Story? Suspense?
That's the hard stuff.
This movie used the new medium at the time, the internet, to create a discussion about a 'legend' that never happened, and, after six months, released this 'documentary' about some found footage in the New Jersey Pine Barrens.
About some college kids making a documentary about said legend, the fearsome "Blair Witch."
No soundtrack, just clips of the film, the performers improvise the dialogue and the filmmakers take their time to slowly introduce nightmarish imagery into their nightmarish camping trip.
There's no blood. There's no cut throats.
And it was all on a shoestring budget.
Nightmare fuel.
HIGHLY recommend.
Clerks
Here's another one that Hollywood didn't know how to market. And brought me to this genre in the first place. Wickedly sarcastic, it became a voice for Generation X and their identity, an obvious dig on not being able to find jobs, find a foothold in the culture at large.
And resulting in comedic angst.
I could not stop watching. Kevin Smith made the movie on his own credit cards, going with the cheaper black and white, and filmed after completing his job in the actual convenience store he worked at, at the time. He made more than a movie, he put independent movies on the map. Many of my peers ran out to see the film, cracking up with every joke as if it was personally made for them. His future films are a bit more random, but I found his true skill is in his writing. These titles are filled with zinger after zinger after zinger to the point that only repeated watching will clear up everything. I still can't help hoping that his best is yet to come, but he's done something that even John Waters couldn't.
