Another Great Directors List Update

I've settled on writing new director spotlight posts every other month, in order to give myself some breathing space.  However, I have to admit that I've been running short on names lately, and getting increasingly obscure with my choices.  There are plenty of talented directors out there that I haven't covered, but we're getting into more iffy territory as the list gets longer.

Back in 2015, I filled a whole post with a list of directors I wanted to feature in upcoming "Great Director" posts, and the films that I'd seen for each.  Five years later, there's still one name from that post I haven't written about - Elia Kazan.  I'm missing a few key works for him, namely his debut film, "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn," and the culturally significant "Pinky," which was at the center of a protracted First Amendment battle.

I considered putting up a new list of coming attractions, but the list of directors I have in mind is shorter than I'd like it to be.  Blake Edwards, and Lars von Trier are definitely coming up, and my next post will probably be on Vincente Minnelli.  I'm currently in the middle of marathoning a couple of his '50s films.  Others in the mix include Rob Reiner, Nicholas Ray, Pedro Almodovar, Ang Lee, Peter Weir, John Frankenheimer, and Terrence Malick.  However, there's at least one big title I'm missing or need to rewatch for each of them.   

It's also not lost on me that these are mostly white European and American male directors again.  My attempts to diversify haven't been going well.  Female and minority directors generally produce far fewer films than their white male counterparts.  Their work is also much more difficult to find and you run into all the recency problems.  Or else there's the significance issue.  I mean, I could technically do Penny Marshall or Elaine May, who I love to bits, but it's difficult to argue I should write a post about them instead of, oh, Blake Edwards, who had a far more substantial and influential career.    

Some of this imbalance is also because, frankly, I'm not putting forth as much effort as I could be.  This is one of the reasons I'm putting the Top Ten Project on hiatus, so I can devote more attention to some of my blind spots and avoid another long hiatus.  I only saw my first Susan Seidelman film this year.  I only saw "The Watermelon Woman" this year.  On the other hand, at least it was this year, instead of next year or never.  More and more obscure art films are coming online through various platforms, and I'm hoping to take more advantage of it.

I've very deliberately set a precedent for including directors with shorter filmographies, after the post on Richard Williams last year, who has a grand total of two-and-a-half feature directing credits to his name.  HIs spotlight is the movie where he's only credited as animation director.  Eventually I'm going to write that Elaine May post, because though she only directed four features, I won't be able to use that as an excuse.  Whether I'll talk myself into watching "Ishtar" or not is another story.       

I've also decided to incorporate the following previously written posts into the series:

Angel Face for Otto Preminger

They Shoot Horses Don't They? for Sydney Pollack

The Martian for Ridley Scott

Yes, I like "The Martian" more than "Alien," "Blade Runner," or "Thelma and Louise," because sometimes you just want a feel-good film where they save Matt Damon.  And Ridley made a damn good one.

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My Top Ten Episodes of 2019-2020

This year comes with a lot of caveats.  I've found myself watching an awful lot of television, but not much of it recent television.  I also remain a genre fan, and haven't really been keeping up with most of the big prestige dramas like "Better Call Saul" or "Succession" lately.  I've decided to institute a "Plus One" spot for the best episode of the previous year that I didn't see in time for the last list.

Again, I'm using Emmy rules for cutoff dates, which means that this list covers everything from the summer of 2019 to the spring of 2020.  Entries are unranked, and I'm limiting myself to one episode per show or miniseries.  Awfully difficult to tell the difference these days.

And here we go.  I'll try to keep the spoilers to a minimum.

Black Mirror, "Striking Vipers" - The last season of "Black Mirror" wasn't well received by its usual fanbase, because it largely avoided the gut-wrenching cautionary tales it's known for.  Instead, we got a hostage thriller, a Disney Channel Original spoof, and a very strange, very thoughtful romance.  I appreciate that "Striking Vipers" handles mature themes and the use of technology in such an even-handed way, and the final resolution - while not happy - is an empathetic and open-minded one.

Stranger Things, "Chapter Eight: The Battle of Starcourt" - I had absolutely no problem with "Stranger Things" hopping genres from horror to cheesy '80s action flick.  The finale was so much fun, pitting all the kids against the giant Mind Flayer in the mall.  There's the absurd "Never-ending Story" song break, the final standoff against Grigori the Russian terminator, and literal fireworks for the big battle.  I wasn't so onboard with the season cliffhanger, but I also know that it's setting up bigger things to come next year.  The Duffer brothers really need to get filming in a hurry, though - those kids are growing up quick. 

Watchmen, "This Extraordinary Being" - Up until this episode, I was enjoying Damon Lindelof's take on the "Watchmen" universe, but not really invested in it.  That changed when he filled in the backstory of Hooded Justice, the first superhero and one of the founders of the original superhero team, the Minutemen.  This episode explored newly introduced themes about the African-American experience, and ongoing generational traumas, and tied them explicitly into the familiar structure of a superhero origin story.  The drug-trip storytelling conceits are a bit much, but the substance is well worth it.

Tales From the Loop, "Transpose" - It's such a simple idea.  Two boys are friends, and secretly jealous of each other.  They have a chance to switch bodies, and in the process they learn more about themselves than they expected.  However, "Tales From the Loop" breaks from form and delivers unexpected consequences - leading to tragedy, guilt, and and worse.  The series is so unusual, and so precious because it takes a more contemplative attitude toward these existential, deeply upsetting situations and ideas.  In that sense, it's one of the most human and humane genre shows that has come along in ages.     

The Outsider, "Fish in a Barrel" - I had trouble deciding between this episode, and the episode immediately following it, "Roanoke."  I decided to stick with the premiere, which presents a nightmare scenario where a small town sheriff, played by Ben Mendelsohn, discovers what he believes is irrefutable evidence that a terrible murder was carried out by the Little League coach, played by Jason Bateman.  It's a stunning, bleak hour of television that sets up the characters and their community with such care and detail.  It doesn't feel like a genre show at all, but like a somber, gripping true crime story.

Dracula, "The Rules of the Beast" - I adore Claes Bang as the newest incarnation of Count Dracula, and loved seeing him pitted against Dolly Wells' Sister Agatha in Steven Moffatt's miniseries.  The reworking of the familiar "Dracula" narrative into this tense interrogation drama in the first episode is so much fun, especially if you're already familiar with all the old tropes and cliches of vampire media.  My favorite scene of the year is easily the stand-off at the convent gates.  It's bloody, and over-the-top, and a complete delight.  Bang's Dracula is the first in a long time that has really made character fun again.

Legion, "Chapter 23" - Directed by Daniel Kwan of the DANIELS duo, this is the most technically and aesthetically impressive hour of television I've seen all year.  This is the episode that introduces the Time Eaters, these demonic Cheshire Cat-like creatures who can only be seen in frozen poses, but move faster than light, accompanied by a terrible tick-tocking sound.  They wreak havoc on our characters, trapping some in photographs, and others in drastically sped-up timelines.  The way all these different time distortions are visualized with mixed media and unorthodox techniques is a real treat to see.  

The Crown, "Aberfan" - This was a fairly miserable season of "The Crown," but it did an excellent job at dramatizing some more significant moments in British history.  The heartbreaking highlight of the year is the recreation of the Aberfan mining disaster, which gives us a chance to see the more serious sides of characters like Margaret and Antony Armstrong.  However, the hour really belongs to Olivia Colman as Elizabeth, trying to maintain a balance between tradition and compassion while questioning her own reaction to the national tragedy.  Its a dark episode, both thematically and visually, but a moving one.     

The Mandalorian, "Chapter 1: The Mandalorian" - The opening episode of the new "Star Wars" series sets the tone just right - this will be a straightforward old fashioned action adventure with a lot of fun little "Star Wars" details here and there to keep the fans happy.  Having Werner Herzog appear as the mystery Client is so perfect, and the final reveal of the Child (nka Baby Yoda) is already an iconic moment.  There are a few of the usual bumps in setting up the universe and getting the show on its feet, but "The Mandalorian" fulfills the promise of putting the "Star Wars" universe on the small screen.

Mr. Robot, "Hello, Elliot" - And finally, there have been few series finales as satisfying as the one for "Mr. Robot."  It not only pulls off another major reveal that changes the nature of everything else that we've seen in the series, but it does so in such an emotionally thoughtful way.  In the end the battle was always for Elliot Alderson's psyche, and it makes sense to go out on such a personal, small scale story about letting go and moving on.  It brings the whole series back to earth and full circle in the best way.   

Honorable Mentions:

The Great, "Meatballs at the Dacha"

Plus one:

Barry, "Ronny/Lily" 

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Initial Thoughts on "I'm Thinking of Ending Things"

Minor spoilers ahead.

It's apparent from the first frame of Charlie Kaufman's adaptation of "I'm Thinking of Ending Things," which lingers on the image of yellow wallpaper, what kind of film we're in for.  Initially, though, the film seems fairly straightforward.  A young woman, played by Jessie Buckley, is thinking of breaking up with her boyfriend Jake (Jesse Plemons), which she tells us through an interior monologue.  Nonetheless, she agrees to go with him to meet his parents (Toni Collette and David Thewlis) for dinner.  During the long drive, it's steadily snowing, and our protagonist is worried about not making it home that night.  

Except, things seem to be a little off.  During that long, boring drive where Jake and Lucy (or is it Louisa?) try to make awkward conversation with each other, talk over each other, and the actors make a meal of uncomfortable pauses, there's clearly something going on beyond a relationship starting to come apart.  When the pair reach Jake's parents' farm, the feeling intensifies.  The parents seem to change in age from scene to scene, growing older or younger at random.  Lucy (or is it Amy?) spots a picture of Jake as a child on the wall, which looks an awful lot like herself as a child.  And at one point she clears the dinner table of plates still heaped high with what looks like totally untouched food.  And then there are the seemingly random scenes of a high school janitor (Guy Boyd) interspersed throughout the story, living out his sad, mundane life.  What the hell is going on?

This is the first Charlie Kaufman film since "Anomalisa," and the first live action one since "Synecdoche, New York," with which it shares a lot of the same conceits and themes.  Reality is a very tenuous thing here, and we're often seeing characters' memories, fantasies, fears, and symbolic representations colliding in various ways.  I don't think there's any part of the film you can say is actually objective reality at any point, except some of the early scenes with the janitor.  Some of the characters seem to have their own inner life and agency, while others do not.  The film presents the kind of ontological and solipsistic mysteries that will delight those who enjoy this kind of thing, and confound those who do not.  

Being a self-professed Charlie Kaufman nut, I'm very happy to have another navel-gazing, existentially broody, overlong film stuffed to the gills with all manner of references and too many ideas.  This one borrows bits of the musical "Oklahoma," the poetry of Eva H.D., writings of David Foster Wallace, Pauline Kael's review of "A Woman Under the Influence," and many more.  There's a whole sequence that seems to be in conversation with Ron Howard's "A Beautiful Mind," as though Kaufman were already anticipating comparisons to it.  As a director, Kaufman hasn't lost a step.  I was constantly impressed with how beautifully composed his frames are, and how dense they are with information.  He also has a real knack for finding the horror in mundane imagery - I'd call it Lynchian, but there's a very different vibe.  On that note, I suppose that this movie should count as a horror film, in the same way that "Twin Peaks" counts as a prime time network soap opera.  

What I also like about "I'm Thinking of Ending Things" is that it's more formally playful and less worried about being subtle - at least, after the first thirty minutes or so of purposefully tedious realism.  The film quickly spirals from odd lapses and weird behavior to out-and-out lunacy and brain breaking flights of fancy.  It's impressive to see how many ways he manages to conceptualize this, and how his actors manage to keep up with all the madness.  Buckley and Plemmons are fantastic actors, who tackle the endless ambiguities of the script head on, and are game to roll with its wilder twists and turns.  Buckley at one point morphs into Pauline Kael.  

And then there's the dance number.  And the song number.  And the use of animation.  And the epic shade thrown at Robert Zemeckis (who gets a thank you in the credits).  Oh, and after all of this, somehow Kaufman still hasn't made a film with a female lead.             

I've just finished watching the film, so these are only preliminary impressions.  I expect I'll be back with more on it later.  

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"Da 5 Bloods" and "The Personal History of David Copperfield"

"Da 5 Bloods" is an ambitious new film from Spike Lee tackling a big topic - the African-American experience of the Vietnam War. It tries to do an awful lot, from subverting the more familiar narratives presented by white filmmakers, to tying the experiences of its leads to current socio-political struggles. It's closest point of reference is "Apocalypse Now," which it references and quotes from repeatedly. However, its plot is closer to "Treasure of the Sierra Madre," which it also nods to explicitly.

A group of African-American vets, Paul (Delroy Lindo), Otis (Clarke Peters), Eddie (Norm Lewis), Melvin (Isiah Whitlock Jr.), and Paul's son Eddie (Jonathan Majors) travel to Vietnam in the present day. They intend to recover the body of their fallen squad leader Norman (Chadwick Boseman), and a secret treasure of gold bars that they took from a crashed CIA helicopter. Along the way they meet Hedy (Melanie Thierry), a Frenchwoman leading a bomb recovery team, Otis's old flame Tiên (Lê Y Lan), a guide named Vinh (Johnny Trí Nguyễn), and a shady businessman, Desroche (Jean Reno). Paul, a paranoid black conservative who has a rough relationship with his son, is the central character, and Delroy Lindo's committed, intense performance is the highlight of the film.

Following along in the footsteps of "BlackKklansman," "Da 5 Bloods" feature more of Spike Lee's mixed-media history lessons, meta elements, shifting frames of reality, and genre-mixing. The first hour or so is a diverting travelogue and melodrama, setting up the characters and their various subplots. Once the bloods reach the jungle, however, things quickly escalate into a more high-octane adventure movie, complete with several action sequences. There's some tonal whiplash, and it doesn't feel like Lee ever manages to go as much in depth on some of these topics as he'd like to. He also runs into the same problem that many of the Vietnam War films about Caucasian soldiers run into, which is that all the Vietnamese characters are stock types, and mostly convenient cannon fodder in the end.

And yet, despite its overstuffed messiness and the ham-handedness with which some of the themes are handled, you've just got to love the film for throwing itself headlong into so much uncharted territory, and being so strong on its messaging and ideas. There are so many great moments, like when the bloods stumble on an active minefield, or the flashbacks to Hanoi Hannah (Ngô Thanh Vân) relaying news about the Civil Rights movement during propaganda broadcasts. I was frequently caught off guard by little gags and details, like Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries" accompanying the bloods' entry into the jungle - this time as middle-aged men on a sightseeing boat. And with Clarke Peters and Isiah Whitlock Jr. present, of course there's a “sheeeeeeeee-it” moment.

Now on to "The Personal History of David Copperfield," the star-studded new adaptation of the beloved Charles Dickens' novel, helmed by Armando Iannucci. The script by Simon Blackwell and Iannucci is not remotely the kind of pitch black comedy or cynical satire that these men are known for. In fact, the film is very light and buoyant for the most part, highlighting the comic eccentricities of the Victorian characters, and displaying a special appreciation for Dickens' language. The young hero's miseries have been preserved, but no one seems too interested in brooding over them. The biggest change to the story is a framing device where David Copperfield is now a budding writer, and all of his adventures are part of his newly published "personal history." He collects clever turns of phrase throughout the film, giving the filmmakers an excuse to linger over Dickens' prose.

The other major distinction this adaptation enjoys is color-blind casting, which gives us Dev Patel as the title character, despite all of Copperfield's family and relatives in the film being played by Caucasians. Minority actors also appear in a few other key roles, namely Mr. Wickfield (Benedict Wong), and his daughter Agnes (Rosalind Eleazar). It's a very noticeable artistic conceit, but not particularly distracting, as the actors are all excellent. And the rest of the cast features Tilda Swinton, Hugh Laurie, Peter Capaldi, Ben Whishaw, Aneurin Barnard, Morfydd Clark, Daisy May Cooper, and Gwendoline Christie - who are all playing exactly who you think they should be playing. Really, have any actors been more perfect for Betsy Trotwood, Mr. Dick, and Mr. Micawber than Swinton, Laurie, and Capaldi? I don't think so.

And the fun of the film is in the ensemble, especially in the later parts of the "David Copperfield" when they all come together and start sharing the same scenes. I've seen enough Dickens adaptations to appreciate the ones that put more emphasis on the humor and the characters, and this is definitely in that category. Along with the new adaptation of "The Green Knight," this is turning out to be a big year for Dev Patel playing famous figures from British literature, and I'm all for it.
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The Unreal "Undone"

I've been an animation fan for a very long time, and I've observed that the very, very few Western animated dramas aimed at grown-ups are almost all either "Adult Swim" style genre shows, full of exploitation elements that revel in mature content, or else they're low budget experimental projects. Producing animation has always been expensive, and if it's not for kids, the assumption is that there's only a very limited audience. But as the technology has gotten better, and animators can turn out certain kinds of animation faster and cheaper, it's become more economically feasible for creators to use animation as a storytelling tool for a broader range of stories.

I've seen some precursors to Amazon's "Undone," like the Steven Soderbergh films "Waking Life" and "A Scanner Darkly." All of these were made by filming actors in live action first and then converting the images into stylized animated versions via rotoscoping and digital manipulation. You can still easily distinguish the actors playing the different roles, like Rosa Salazar as Alma, the lead of "Undone," but by converting them into more simplified images of ink lines and blocks of color, it introduces a degree of removal from the real world, allowing the show to implement its fantastical concepts more easily. We don't see the actual characters manipulated much - there are no drug trip psychedelics where people are turning into bugs or growing extra limbs, the way you see in "A Scanner Darkly" - but we do see the environments around the characters being manipulated heavily. Alma can travel back and forth through time, from one location to another, from one reality or state of being to another, seamlessly. The transitions are especially impressive, using animation to avoid hard cuts and introduce elements of dream logic.

"Undone" takes full advantage of this in telling the story of Alma, a commitment-phobic young woman who gets into a car accident and suddenly starts seeing her dead father Jacob (Bob Odenkirk) wherever she goes. From her perspective, she also starts getting trapped in loops of time, unexpectedly jumping around to different points in her life, and learning that she can manipulate space/time. Around her are several characters trying to help Alma get back to normal, including her overbearing mother Camila (Constance Marie), supportive boyfriend Sam (Siddharth Dhananjay), younger sister Becca (Angelique Cabral), and her patient boss Tunde (Daveed Diggs). Alma has a very tough, rebellious personality, and her life is something of a mess. Discovering that she may suddenly have these amazing psychic powers (or be mentally ill) further strains her existing relationships. She also becomes obsessed with uncovering the truth about her father's death in a car accident when Alma was a child.

I appreciate that Alma and her family are kept very grounded and realistic. There's nothing caricatured about any of them, and they're all played totally straight, despite being animated. The story often feels akin to something like "Fleabag" with its focus on Alma's troubled internal life and her struggles with her personal relationships. Rosa Salazar carries the series with her performance, and it makes such a difference that Alma has such a strong voice and presence throughout. There's a specificity to her behavior, heritage, and experiences that help her stay sympathetic and believable amidst all the metaphysical chaos. While all the animated fireworks and flourishes are fun to see, it's Alma teasing her father, or bonding with Becca and Sam that are ultimately what "Undone" is worth watching for.

And that, in the end, is the show's biggest accomplishment as a piece of animated media. It's able to portray the subtle and mundane as well as the otherworldly with equal effectiveness. The animation is executed so well, and feels so suited to the story that it never feels like a gimmick, the way something like "Loving Vincent" does. I occasionally forgot that I was watching an animated series, even when the characters were hurtling through space or freezing time. I'm sure that you could have made "Undone" as a live action program, but the animation works so well here and helps make the series truly distinctive without sacrificing the intimacy of its performances or the impact of its story.

I hope "Undone" does well enough that we see more projects like it - personal, unconventional, and telling stories that we don't expect to see animated. And after this and "Battle Angel Alita," I wouldn't mind if I never learn what Rosa Salazar actually looks like in real life.

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My Top Ten TV Movies

This may be the weirdest top ten list I've written yet, for a couple of reasons. First, it's a post about celebrating the red-headed stepchild of the media world, the television movie, which has never gotten its fair shake as a legitimate form of media after decades of cheap ripped-from-the-headlines dreck. Second, this list is conspicuously missing many of the obvious, high profile titles that usually are held up as shining examples of television movies - for the simple reason that I never had access to premium cable channels like HBO and Showtime for the vast majority of my life. As a result, all the celebrated HBO prestige features that win so many Emmys are nowhere in sight. And so my list is, well, it's unique.

Duel (1971) - Let's start with one of the obvious classics. Steven Spielberg directed and Richard Matheson wrote this bare bones thriller about a truck that menaces a poor salesman during a long drive through the Mojave desert. This was only Spielberg's second feature, and he was already displaying a remarkable visual sense and facility with screen language. You never see the driver of the tanker truck, and you never need to. The film was so successful, additional scenes were shot, and the movie was given a theatrical release in Europe and other overseas markets.

The Naked Civil Servant (1975) - The biopic of Quentin Crisp put him in the spotlight as a prominent queer British icon, and features John Hurt in one of his most famous performances. It took me a while to find the film, which is currently streaming on Topic, and I'm so glad I took the trouble. It's such a daring a brutally honest portrayal of a homosexual man struggling to survive the first half of the twentieth century, you almost can't believe that either the man or the film actually exists. And John Hurt's fearless lead performance as Crisp really is one for the ages.

The Lathe of Heaven (1980) - PBS funded and aired this bare bones adaptation of the Ursula K. LeGuin science-fiction novel, starring Bruce Davison as a man whose dreams change reality, and Kevin Conway as the psychiatrist who hijacks his powers. I just love the way that such an epic story is told with so few resources, how a few cleverly dressed sets and rudimentary video effects can convey massive societal changes and catastrophes from scene to scene. This is a film of ideas and substance more than glitz and spectacle, and it really comes through in every aspect of the production.

Meantime (1983) - Mike Leigh made ten television films in the '70s and '80s before gaining enough support to make the jump to theatrical films permanently. "Meantime" is one of his best, a candid look at a working class family living in London's East End, where jobs are scarce and future prospects are dim. Gary Oldman had his screen debut here, as a skinhead, and Tim Roth plays one of the leads. Like so much of Leigh's work, the film is interested in ordinary people living out ordinary lives, and serves as a great snapshot of the state of Britain in the uncertain days of the 1980s.

The Halloween Tree (1993) - After Turner bought Hanna-Barbera in the '90s, there was a brief period where they tried to produce more ambitious projects. This included a Halloween-themed feature based on Ray Bradbury's YA novel, "The Halloween Tree." Bradbury himself wrote the teleplay, reducing the number of characters and updating the material. The animation is a little on the rough side, but the simplicity of the imagery is charming and perfectly nostalgic. I also want to highlight the great John Debney score and Leonard Nimoy's performance as Moundshroud.

Bloody Sunday (2002) - This one had its premiere at Sundance and got a theatrical run, but it was produced for ITV and aired there first, so I count it as a TV film. I strongly suspect that Paul Greengrass got tapped for the "Bourne" movies because of his work here, which depicts the 1972 Northern Irish Bloody Sunday shootings. The shaky-cam cinematography, the intense immediacy of the action choreography, and the fast-paced editing are all clearly visible here. This is certainly a prestige project, but it's a chilling and uncompromisingly bleak one that caught me off guard.

Sybil (1976) - This is the entry that's closest to what the popular conception of a TV movie is, a melodrama featuring terrible domestic abuses, women in trouble, and other potentially salacious subject matter. However, "Sybil" also features two fantastic performances from Sally Field and Joanne Woodward, and I love its approach to its heroine's personal struggles, even though the conception of DID is very dated. At three hours in length, parts of the film can be a slog, but I think it's worth it to get to the lovely final counseling session, where Sybil finally meets herself.

Behind the Candelabra (2013) - For Steven Soderbergh's sake, I went and tracked down this HBO film, about the relationship between Liberace and his longtime partner Scott Thorson, played by Michael Douglas and Matt Damon respectively. Not being very familiar with Liberace, I enjoy the movie purely as a trashy (but affectionate) gay love story and black comedy with a fabulous cast - witness Rob Lowe's towering achievement in coiffure. At the time, this was supposed to be Soderbergh's final film project before retirement - and I'm very glad that it didn't stick.

White Dwarf (1995) - Now here's a real oddity. Francis Ford Coppola was one of the producers behind this striking fantasy film, which was initially put together as a pilot for a possible series. As such, there's no real plot to the thing, just a string of introductions to interesting places and people, played by a bevy of familiar character actors. However, the worldbuilding and the weird mix of influences really sets this one apart. There are shapeshifters, warriors, monsters, and magic in abundance. And the weirdest thing is that this is actually a medical drama at its core.

The Scarlet Pimpernel (1982) - Here's a favorite from my childhood - the absolute best adaptation of "The Scarlet Pimpernel" ever made, starring Jane Seymour and Anthony Andrews, with Ian McKellan as the villain. This is largely thanks to the excellent performance of Anthony Andrews as the ridiculously foppish Percy Blakeney. The rest of the film, likewise, is all adventure and romance and fun, never taking itself too seriously. The politics are little out of date, which is why I suspect the property hasn't been remade often since, but the story is still a charmer.
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I Watched "Twilight"

So, months of Coronavirus quarantine has lead me to this. I've been indulging in some of the more popular movies that I'd skipped or missed from the 2000s, including "Legally Blonde" and "The Ring." This brought me to the "Twilight" movies, which are far back enough in time now that they're starting to become nostalgic for people of a certain age. There have been some re-evaluations and kinder takes floating around recently too, so in the interests of my own pop-culture literacy, I figured it was time to take the plunge. After all, I've been listening to complaints and dissections about this series for years. It's high time I formed my own opinion.

And so, the original 2008 "Twilight" directed by Catherine Hardwicke is.... a bad movie. It's not an egregiously bad movie, but it's boring, it's way too long, it makes no sense, the humor's terrible, and a lot of the production values are pretty sad. Remarkably, Kristen Stewart delivers a perfectly good performance as Bella Swan, and she carries the film without any problems. Robert Pattinson is awful, but the character he's playing is awful to the point that he's kinda hilarious, so I enjoyed him regardless. It was fun seeing Anna Kendrick as one of Bella's classmates, and Justin Chon sporting one of the worst haircuts I've ever seen on film. Good grief.

As far as teen romances go, this is far from the worst I've seen. Sure, the dialogue is wooden, and the chemistry is flimsy, but I understand completely why this was such a big hit with teenage girls. This is totally pandering to that audience. It's full of supernatural creatures but very little horror, tons of teenage angst, but no adult consequences. The Pacific Northwest locations look fabulous, and the minimal score is a nice change of pace from the aggressive song-based soundtracks of similar films. The arguments that have been thrown around about the Bella and Edward relationship being unhealthy is missing the point. This is immature teenagers being idiots together and breaking the rules, not level-headed adults setting healthy boundaries and negotiating priorities. It's a fantasy film in every respect.

The "Twilight" vampires are essentially the kids from "Tuck Everlasting" with a couple of the more showy vampire traits - super strength and agility, ultra pale skin, and some limited mental powers. I find them utterly fascinating for being so deeply, deeply uncool in spite of all this. The good vampires are a ridiculously wholesome family, the Cullens, who play baseball and walk around their high school together in slow motion. They make almost no attempt to blend in with the normies, and are so obviously people out of the wrong era that it's exasperating that it takes Bella nearly an hour to catch on. They describe themselves as "vegetarians" because they don't drink human blood, but are endlessly miserable about it. Edward goes on multiple anguished rants about being a monster and a killer. It's very much so-bad-it's-good territory.

Despite all this, the film does make me a little wistful for that brief time in pop culture where the "Twilight" films were making an absurd amount of money every year, signalling loud and clear to Hollywood that teenage girls would turn out in droves for a film that took their tastes into account. The YA fantasy trend died with the third "Divergent" film, but it did net us a few decent hits like "The Hunger Games." There were a handful of supernatural romances that tried to follow the "Twilight" formula more closely, but not as many as I would have expected. I liked some of these as well, including "Warm Bodies" and "Beautiful Creatures."

I'm tempted to watch the rest of the "Twilight" series just to enjoy the absurdity, which I understand gets ratcheted up considerably in the later installments. The prospect of Michael Sheen and Rami Malek hamming it up as vampires is pretty tempting. On the other hand, I'd just be watching the further adventures of the "Twilight" gang to gawk at their monstrosity, which I don't feel right about either. I'm long past being part of the franchise's target audience, and I think it's best to leave these films to their actual, non-ironic fans.
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