"Joker," as a character piece about a man named Arthur Fleck, played by Joaquin Phoenix, is a fine and moving piece of cinema, bolstered by Phoenix's performance in particular. However, the film also sits in the complicated intersection of several cinematic legacies and influences that make its digestion much more difficult. And then there's the matter of the terrible timing of its release, as it is none-too-subtly capitalizing off of various strains of present day social unrest, and has several media commentators so spooked, "Joker" is being treated like the next "Do the Right Thing" in some circles.
So what do we do with a "Batman" prequel that is also an homage to Scorsese's "Taxi Driver" and "The King of Comedy," and problematically glorifies the vigilante outsider in 2019? Well, let's take this thing apart piece by piece. First and foremost, the idea that "Joker" is an incitement to violence and anarchy is overblown. "Joker" contains a few allusions to Bernie Goetz and Occupy Wall Street, the same as "The Dark Knight Rises"and "Taxi Driver," but its messages are too muddled to really connect to the real world. You can definitely read the triumph and elevation of the Joker character, who inspires riots and other acts violence against the privileged, as encouraging of fringe actors, but not more so than most "man against the system" films. I'm sure that certain Joker fans could take the movie as a call to action, but it's a stretch. The Joker in this film may be more sympathetic, but as antiheroes go, he's still a pretty horrific one.
Also, "Joker" is a period film, which has a certain distancing effect. It takes place in the grungy, crime-riddled New York City-playing-Gotham of the 1970s and 1980s. Director Todd Phillips borrows a lot from Scorsese cinematically, and makes no secret of it. Arthur Fleck haunts many of the same trash-strewn streets and echoes many of the same antisocial thoughts that Travis Bickel and Rupert Pupkin once did. Robert DeNiro even plays the pivotal role of Murray Franklin, a talk show host who Arthur watches obsessively and fantasizes about interacting with. But though Phillips successfully employs some of Scorsese's techniques, and Lawrence Sher's doing career best work as cinematographer, it's only the rare moment that they capture anything close to the same verve and psychological insight. This is a very shallow film, lacking in irony, and without much of an ideology beyond generating a little sympathy for the clown.
The bulk of the film's pleasures come down to the performance of Joaquin Phoenix, as this damaged, tortured creature who inhabits the same existential real estate as a Scorsese character, but is far more wretched. There's a rawness and uncomfortable physicality to everything he does, similar to his work in "The Master." The way his mental illness manifests, the use of the clown makeup as a motif, and the constant, physical abuse that he suffers and learns to dish out, are fascinating to watch. The famous Joker laugh is reframed as the product of a neurological condition, something that Arthur can't control. The first sections of the film, where he struggles to take care of his ailing mother (Frances Controy) and survive the whims of a cruel social order, are by far the most successful. As the film gets into comic book territory, it takes a turn for the worse.
Finally, we have to reckon with "Joker" as a Batman film, and this is the least successful and satisfying part of the whole venture. Phoenix successfully pulls off a new take on the Joker that references the best parts of the previous incarnations - Cesar Romero's whimsy, Jack Nicholson's menace, and Heath Ledger's anarchy. However, the attempts to tie the character to the Wayne family and all the little easter eggs and references that appear throughout aren't too compelling. The script toys with adding certain relationships and connections, but mostly doesn't follow through, content to let certain pivotal events play out exactly as we expect them to. Having Arthur's story set in Gotham makes little difference at all, and seems to exist as an excuse to let Phillips and crew flirt with superhero imagery. The third act has some huge riffs on the Joker sequences in "The Dark Knight."
"Joker" does, however, create some entirely original moments that are difficult to shake. There's the scene where Arthur empties the refrigerator and climbs into it, trying to his escape his miseries. There's the already iconic dance on the stairs, the escape of the midget, and a trail of bloody footprints. Once you cut away all the excess and the nostalgia, there's still a worthwhile movie here. It's a smaller, sadder film than it's billing itself to be, and the ending is a bit of a mess, but it's worth seeing.
It is not, however, worth nearly the amount of fuss that it's caused.
---
Tuesday, February 11, 2020
Sunday, February 9, 2020
Oscar Aftermath 2020
It feels like despite the showrunners' best efforts, the Oscars are a slow-moving trainwreck every year, yet always get redeemed by a couple of interesting artistic choices and some good moments of real human drama. There was an undeniable awkwardness to having four awards speeches delivered in Korean with a translator on hand, but Bong Joon-Ho is a charismatic and lovable winner, and the audience was so enthusiastically on his side. When he won Best Director, and then "Parasite" took Best Picture, it was a perfect underdog victory. It was hard to resist the urge to stand up and cheer.
The evening certainly didn't start out that way. First, there was Janelle Monae's aggressive opening number, where her attempts at audience participation mostly felt flat, and there was the odd choice of featuring elements form films that notably didn't get any love from the Academy, like "Midsommar," "Us," "Queen and Slim," and "Dolemite is My Name." There was a running theme throughout the night of the show acknowledging that it had to do better by the non-white, non-male creative community, and then expressing that in the most awkward way possible. Chris Rock and Steve Martin took the stage for some opening remarks that were tepid and strained, leaning way too hard on the angry black man v. sheepish white man divide. I still don't know if Steve Martin mispronouncing Cynthia Erivo's name was legit, or part of a bit.
However, for every pointed, self-congratulatory choice, like making a big deal of the Oscars' first maestra, Eimear Noone, ("All women are superheroes"? Really?) you had the Best Score award actually going to Hildur Guðnadóttir, who delivered a truly heartfelt and inspirational acceptance speech. There were far too many celebrities introducing each other, but it did net us good comic bits from Will Ferrell and Julia Louis Dreyfus, and Maya Rudolph and Kristen Wiig. Even Rebel Wilson and James Corden were smart enough to deliver their one joke and get out. The "Into the Unknown" stunt where multiple international singers sang parts of the song in different languages, showing off Disney's localization efforts, was quickly made up for by spine-tingling performances from Elton John, Cynthia Erivo, and a surprise Eminem (famously a no-show in 2002). No comment on Billie Eilish - I'm still figuring out whether I enjoy her style of performance or not.
Aside from the "Parasite" wins, most of the other races had been decided for ages. None of the acting races shook out the way I was hoping, but the actual winners were very unobjectionable choices, and the same ones who had been winning everything all season. Brad Pitt's speech was great, Joaquin Phoenix's was very earnest if a bit unhinged (appropriate, given he won for "Joker"), I'm happy Dern is being recognized for anything, and it's good to have Renee Zellwegger back, even if her speech was rambly and blah. The one win that did bother me was Taika Waititi getting Best Adapted Screenplay for "Jojo Rabbit," which leaves me conflicted because I'm a staunch defender of "Jojo Rabbit" and I've been singing its praises for weeks - however, Greta Gerwig was clearly robbed. I'm also aghast that "The Irishman" walked away with nothing, even though Bong Joon-ho very graciously paid his respects to Scorsese.
Some of my reactions to the ceremony have undeniably been colored by the fact that I finally finished reading Mark Harris's "Pictures at a Revolution," which spent its final chapter delivering a blow-by-blow account of the 1968 Oscars. It's fascinating to see how so many of the same old issues and bad habits are still plaguing the ceremony - tone deaf and overbearing presenters, self-congratulatory social messaging, and a visible clash between the old generation and the new. Still, this time around the right picture won, striking an important blow for the increasingly prominent international film community. Yeah, they cut off the Makeup/Hairstyling ladies, and yeah, the "In Memoriam" graphics were awful, but in the end the night was a triumph for the Academy Awards. It was a good year for the movies, and the ceremony reflected that, no matter how hard they seemed to try to sabotage themselves.
Watching Charlize Theron, Tom Hanks and several others shouting and waving for the microphone and lights to come back up for the "Parasite" winners was a great capper to the night.
Until next year.
---
The evening certainly didn't start out that way. First, there was Janelle Monae's aggressive opening number, where her attempts at audience participation mostly felt flat, and there was the odd choice of featuring elements form films that notably didn't get any love from the Academy, like "Midsommar," "Us," "Queen and Slim," and "Dolemite is My Name." There was a running theme throughout the night of the show acknowledging that it had to do better by the non-white, non-male creative community, and then expressing that in the most awkward way possible. Chris Rock and Steve Martin took the stage for some opening remarks that were tepid and strained, leaning way too hard on the angry black man v. sheepish white man divide. I still don't know if Steve Martin mispronouncing Cynthia Erivo's name was legit, or part of a bit.
However, for every pointed, self-congratulatory choice, like making a big deal of the Oscars' first maestra, Eimear Noone, ("All women are superheroes"? Really?) you had the Best Score award actually going to Hildur Guðnadóttir, who delivered a truly heartfelt and inspirational acceptance speech. There were far too many celebrities introducing each other, but it did net us good comic bits from Will Ferrell and Julia Louis Dreyfus, and Maya Rudolph and Kristen Wiig. Even Rebel Wilson and James Corden were smart enough to deliver their one joke and get out. The "Into the Unknown" stunt where multiple international singers sang parts of the song in different languages, showing off Disney's localization efforts, was quickly made up for by spine-tingling performances from Elton John, Cynthia Erivo, and a surprise Eminem (famously a no-show in 2002). No comment on Billie Eilish - I'm still figuring out whether I enjoy her style of performance or not.
Aside from the "Parasite" wins, most of the other races had been decided for ages. None of the acting races shook out the way I was hoping, but the actual winners were very unobjectionable choices, and the same ones who had been winning everything all season. Brad Pitt's speech was great, Joaquin Phoenix's was very earnest if a bit unhinged (appropriate, given he won for "Joker"), I'm happy Dern is being recognized for anything, and it's good to have Renee Zellwegger back, even if her speech was rambly and blah. The one win that did bother me was Taika Waititi getting Best Adapted Screenplay for "Jojo Rabbit," which leaves me conflicted because I'm a staunch defender of "Jojo Rabbit" and I've been singing its praises for weeks - however, Greta Gerwig was clearly robbed. I'm also aghast that "The Irishman" walked away with nothing, even though Bong Joon-ho very graciously paid his respects to Scorsese.
Some of my reactions to the ceremony have undeniably been colored by the fact that I finally finished reading Mark Harris's "Pictures at a Revolution," which spent its final chapter delivering a blow-by-blow account of the 1968 Oscars. It's fascinating to see how so many of the same old issues and bad habits are still plaguing the ceremony - tone deaf and overbearing presenters, self-congratulatory social messaging, and a visible clash between the old generation and the new. Still, this time around the right picture won, striking an important blow for the increasingly prominent international film community. Yeah, they cut off the Makeup/Hairstyling ladies, and yeah, the "In Memoriam" graphics were awful, but in the end the night was a triumph for the Academy Awards. It was a good year for the movies, and the ceremony reflected that, no matter how hard they seemed to try to sabotage themselves.
Watching Charlize Theron, Tom Hanks and several others shouting and waving for the microphone and lights to come back up for the "Parasite" winners was a great capper to the night.
Until next year.
---
Friday, February 7, 2020
My Top Ten Films of 1970
This is part of my continuing series looking back on films from the years before I began this blog. The ten films below are unranked and listed in no particular order. Enjoy.
Little Big Man - It's easy to describe "Little Big Man" as the Old West version of "Forrest Gump," where our main character stumbles through major events in American history. However, "Little Big Man" is far more daring and subversive than "Forrest Gump." It's a revisionist Western that sympathizes with the Native Americans, often portrays the encroaching pioneers as villains, and satirizes figures like General Custer and Wild Bill Hickock. It's frequently funny and absurd, but also remarkably touching at times, featuring excellent performances from Dustin Hoffman and Chief Dan George.
Tora! Tora! Tora! - Darryl F. Zanuck and crew tried to replicate the success of "The Longest Day" with a massively ambitious war epic about the bombing of Pearl Harbor, told from the POVs of both the Americans and the Japanese, with multiple productions carried out by different countries. The resulting docudrama provides an intriguing macroscopic view of events, coupled with one of the most terrifically destructive battle recreations ever filmed. We'll probably never see a production of this size and scope again - which is likely why they're still reusing clips of the film in other projects.
The Ballad of Cable Hogue - One of Sam Peckinpah's gentler films follows the career of Cable Hogue, a ruffian who discovers water in the desert in the waning days of the Old West. The film is a Western, but largely non-violent and incidental. It's mostly concerned with charting Hogue's evolution from vengeful, selfish varmint to a more enlightened breed of human being. The filmmaking is playful, the tone easygoing, and the performances of Jason Robards and Stella Stevens are delightful. The offbeat romance and comedy sneak up on the viewer, and prove very enjoyable.
The Conformist - A portrait of a man with a coldly Fascist worldview that is equally damning and sympathetic, but above all gorgeous. The art direction and Vittorio Storaro's cinematography are stunning. The non-linear storytelling, editing, and mise-en-scene are beautifully executed, creating a psychologically fraught world of spies and secrets, where our hero can't ever seem to escape his lingering demons. I love the way Bernardo Bertolucci often ends scenes on these little visual punchlines and grace notes, and the way they add little shadings and ironies to the narrative.
Diary of a Mad Housewife - Frank and Eleanor Perry continue to explore the American psyche, this time through Carrie Snodgrass's endlessly put-upon housewife, Tina Balser. Snodgrass's performance, her film debut, is what drives the film and gives it so much bite. The defeat on her face and the placating tone of her voice tell you everything you need to know about Tina in the first five minutes. And I still can't help wanting to wring Richard Benjamin's neck every time I see him in anything. His narcissistic husband is one of the most aggravating characters I've ever seen onscreen.
Deep End - It's difficult to describe "Deep End," or even put it into a proper genre. It's mostly a coming-of age story, set in and around a London bath house, but contains elements of comedy, thriller, melodrama, and perhaps satire. Jerzy Skolimowski makes great use of setting and space - the empty swimming pool, the labyrinthine baths, and the London Underground. As the young hero's frustrations mount, so do the dangers that he keeps encountering, both internal and external. It's a rare film that kept me guessing as to its intentions for the entire running time, but also left me entirely satisfied.
Even Dwarfs Started Small - Is this an experimental film? A satire? A farce? A cruel joke? But if it is a joke, at whose expense? Ninety minutes of dwarfs running amok on a remote island, rebelling against society and enjoying their own outrageousness - is there a point? Filming was reportedly extremely dangerous, resulting in multiple injuries. Clearly, there are some serious questions about the exploitation of the cast and the nature of the production that need to be addressed. And yet, I can't help but look on Werner Herzog's finished product with great admiration, for his vision, for his wildness, and for his utter lack of apparent limits.
Patton - It's George C. Scott's show from beginning to end, as magnificent a biography and a war film as General Patton himself could ever wish for. Scott's Oscar-winning performance is legendary, of course, but it's Francis Ford Coppola's script and Franklin J. Schaffner's direction that do a lot of the heavy lifting, creating an unusually candid portrait of a major historical figure, and positioning him in such a way that makes the audience love him for his faults and foibles. At the same time, Patton remains very much a mystery in the end, both to his comrades and to the audience.
The Wild Child - One of the more accessible Truffaut films recounts the history of a feral boy and the attempts to reintegrate him into society. Truffaut himself takes the lead role as the boy's doctor and caretaker. It's a very thoughtful, sensitively made feature where Truffaut is once again examining the lives of children and their process of socialization. The situation here is more intense, creating a more dramatic, allegorical experience. At the same time, realism is carefully preserved - the narrative is a direct dramatization of the real doctor's journals and observations.
Zabriskie Point - Michelangelo Antonio's foray into American subject matter was widely panned at the time of release, and remains divisive, but I love its weirdness and its psychedelia, its vision of the American counterculture through the eyes of a curuious foreigner. From the soundtrack full of familiar rockers to the anonymous lead actors froliking in the dunes to the hypnotic finale scenes of suburban detritus literally being blown to bits, there's nothing else like it.
Honorable Mention
Scrooge
---
Little Big Man - It's easy to describe "Little Big Man" as the Old West version of "Forrest Gump," where our main character stumbles through major events in American history. However, "Little Big Man" is far more daring and subversive than "Forrest Gump." It's a revisionist Western that sympathizes with the Native Americans, often portrays the encroaching pioneers as villains, and satirizes figures like General Custer and Wild Bill Hickock. It's frequently funny and absurd, but also remarkably touching at times, featuring excellent performances from Dustin Hoffman and Chief Dan George.
Tora! Tora! Tora! - Darryl F. Zanuck and crew tried to replicate the success of "The Longest Day" with a massively ambitious war epic about the bombing of Pearl Harbor, told from the POVs of both the Americans and the Japanese, with multiple productions carried out by different countries. The resulting docudrama provides an intriguing macroscopic view of events, coupled with one of the most terrifically destructive battle recreations ever filmed. We'll probably never see a production of this size and scope again - which is likely why they're still reusing clips of the film in other projects.
The Ballad of Cable Hogue - One of Sam Peckinpah's gentler films follows the career of Cable Hogue, a ruffian who discovers water in the desert in the waning days of the Old West. The film is a Western, but largely non-violent and incidental. It's mostly concerned with charting Hogue's evolution from vengeful, selfish varmint to a more enlightened breed of human being. The filmmaking is playful, the tone easygoing, and the performances of Jason Robards and Stella Stevens are delightful. The offbeat romance and comedy sneak up on the viewer, and prove very enjoyable.
The Conformist - A portrait of a man with a coldly Fascist worldview that is equally damning and sympathetic, but above all gorgeous. The art direction and Vittorio Storaro's cinematography are stunning. The non-linear storytelling, editing, and mise-en-scene are beautifully executed, creating a psychologically fraught world of spies and secrets, where our hero can't ever seem to escape his lingering demons. I love the way Bernardo Bertolucci often ends scenes on these little visual punchlines and grace notes, and the way they add little shadings and ironies to the narrative.
Diary of a Mad Housewife - Frank and Eleanor Perry continue to explore the American psyche, this time through Carrie Snodgrass's endlessly put-upon housewife, Tina Balser. Snodgrass's performance, her film debut, is what drives the film and gives it so much bite. The defeat on her face and the placating tone of her voice tell you everything you need to know about Tina in the first five minutes. And I still can't help wanting to wring Richard Benjamin's neck every time I see him in anything. His narcissistic husband is one of the most aggravating characters I've ever seen onscreen.
Deep End - It's difficult to describe "Deep End," or even put it into a proper genre. It's mostly a coming-of age story, set in and around a London bath house, but contains elements of comedy, thriller, melodrama, and perhaps satire. Jerzy Skolimowski makes great use of setting and space - the empty swimming pool, the labyrinthine baths, and the London Underground. As the young hero's frustrations mount, so do the dangers that he keeps encountering, both internal and external. It's a rare film that kept me guessing as to its intentions for the entire running time, but also left me entirely satisfied.
Even Dwarfs Started Small - Is this an experimental film? A satire? A farce? A cruel joke? But if it is a joke, at whose expense? Ninety minutes of dwarfs running amok on a remote island, rebelling against society and enjoying their own outrageousness - is there a point? Filming was reportedly extremely dangerous, resulting in multiple injuries. Clearly, there are some serious questions about the exploitation of the cast and the nature of the production that need to be addressed. And yet, I can't help but look on Werner Herzog's finished product with great admiration, for his vision, for his wildness, and for his utter lack of apparent limits.
Patton - It's George C. Scott's show from beginning to end, as magnificent a biography and a war film as General Patton himself could ever wish for. Scott's Oscar-winning performance is legendary, of course, but it's Francis Ford Coppola's script and Franklin J. Schaffner's direction that do a lot of the heavy lifting, creating an unusually candid portrait of a major historical figure, and positioning him in such a way that makes the audience love him for his faults and foibles. At the same time, Patton remains very much a mystery in the end, both to his comrades and to the audience.
The Wild Child - One of the more accessible Truffaut films recounts the history of a feral boy and the attempts to reintegrate him into society. Truffaut himself takes the lead role as the boy's doctor and caretaker. It's a very thoughtful, sensitively made feature where Truffaut is once again examining the lives of children and their process of socialization. The situation here is more intense, creating a more dramatic, allegorical experience. At the same time, realism is carefully preserved - the narrative is a direct dramatization of the real doctor's journals and observations.
Zabriskie Point - Michelangelo Antonio's foray into American subject matter was widely panned at the time of release, and remains divisive, but I love its weirdness and its psychedelia, its vision of the American counterculture through the eyes of a curuious foreigner. From the soundtrack full of familiar rockers to the anonymous lead actors froliking in the dunes to the hypnotic finale scenes of suburban detritus literally being blown to bits, there's nothing else like it.
Honorable Mention
Scrooge
---
Wednesday, February 5, 2020
Rank 'Em: The 2020 Best Picture Nominees
This was a tough post to write, mostly because it was an excellent year at the movies, and because how much I liked certain films didn't match up with how good I thought they were. I mostly erred on the side of my personal tastes, because this is my list, dammit, and I shouldn't be discounting my own preferences and point of view. So, here we go. From best to least best, here are the Best Picture nominees of 2020, ranked.
Little Women - It was a close fight between this and "Parasite" for the top spot. I'm giving it to "Little Women" for so thoroughly upending my expectations. I expected a period piece from Greta Gerwig to be much more formal and restrained. Instead, there's such a vitality to the story, which has been taken apart and rebuilt to highlight different themes, updated ideas, and Gerwig's own, more expansive sensibilities. The result is the best screen version of "Little Women" to date, and the best film of 2019.
Parasite - As far as social allegories about class and privilege go, it's hard to top this one. It's such a beautifully conceived film, full of little twists and surprises that blur genres and traditions. There are just the right amounts of Bong Joon-ho's usual grotesquerie and black humor. There are just enough relatable human foibles. And after years of Korean cinema being all but ignored by the Academy, I love that something has finally broken through and may very well win the whole shebang.
Marriage Story - A remarkably empathetic film about a broken relationship, essentially a love story that ends with separation instead of a union. It's been so rewarding to see Noah Baumbach arrive at this point artistically and emotionally. If he'd made this film ten years ago, it would have been far more bitter and unpalatable. Instead, he's given Adam Driver and Scarlett Johanssen the chance to do some of their best, most affecting work yet, and everyone a reason to revisit Sondheim's back catalog.
Jojo Rabbit - This is probably higher in the rankings than it should be, but "Jojo" is one of my favorite films of the year in spite of its clear weaknesses. What ameliorates a lot of my misgivings is that I see the film as being directed toward the young and impressionable, and I love the way that Taika Waititi finds all these ways to connect the WWII experience with modern culture and get viewers into the same head space as the young leads. The film also surprised me multiple times - and that's always a plus.
The Irishman - I wish I liked this movie more. I admire Martin Scorsese and his collaborators so much for committing to this big, difficult gangster elegy. I don't mind the limits of the de-aging technology, and I don't mind the three hour running time. The performances are fantastic all around, with special kudos to Joe Pesci, who I hope enjoys a late career resurrection. Unfortunately, as with many of Scorsese's other gangster pictures, I didn't find the material compelling. So into the middle of the pack it goes.
1917 - The technical aspects of this film are absolutely impeccable, and I wouldn't be at all surprised it it ended up winning all the major awards. That said, it's hard to get away from the fact that the film is built on a gimmick, and the characters are very thinly drawn. I'm very happy to see it doing so well at the box office, and showing that a good original film can be as effective an action spectacular as any superhero franchise film. I'm just not convinced that it deserves to take home the prize this year.
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood… - Even if I set aside the ending as a matter of taste, I still can't summon up much enthusiasm for Quentin Tarantino's vision of '60s Hollywood. I'm impressed by how lovingly he recreated the parties and the street life, and his takes on the TV and movie production of the times is a lot of fun. However, there's so much self-indulgence here that it grates, and the characters aren't particularly compelling. I wish there were more substance under all the references and glitz.
Joker - And here's the most nominated film of the year, which seems to position it as the frontrunner, but the backlash has been pretty overwhelming. I don't think it's getting anything but Joaquin's Best Actor trophy. I think "Joker" is a perfectly good film overall, a middling Scorsese homage (certainly better than something like "American Hustle"), and a poor "Batman" story. It gets a few extra points for audacity, but it's not remotely as effective of any of the films it takes its influences from.
Ford v Ferrari - It's a solid, well-made sports movie that has both Matt Damon and Christian Bale doing good work. The story is interesting and I like that the conflict is more about the behind-the-scenes clashes than anything going on at Le Mans - though it's Le Mans that delivers all of the big, exciting race sequences. There's just not enough here to really make the film exceptional. I don't think it deserved a nomination, not in a year like this with so many better choices.
---
Little Women - It was a close fight between this and "Parasite" for the top spot. I'm giving it to "Little Women" for so thoroughly upending my expectations. I expected a period piece from Greta Gerwig to be much more formal and restrained. Instead, there's such a vitality to the story, which has been taken apart and rebuilt to highlight different themes, updated ideas, and Gerwig's own, more expansive sensibilities. The result is the best screen version of "Little Women" to date, and the best film of 2019.
Parasite - As far as social allegories about class and privilege go, it's hard to top this one. It's such a beautifully conceived film, full of little twists and surprises that blur genres and traditions. There are just the right amounts of Bong Joon-ho's usual grotesquerie and black humor. There are just enough relatable human foibles. And after years of Korean cinema being all but ignored by the Academy, I love that something has finally broken through and may very well win the whole shebang.
Marriage Story - A remarkably empathetic film about a broken relationship, essentially a love story that ends with separation instead of a union. It's been so rewarding to see Noah Baumbach arrive at this point artistically and emotionally. If he'd made this film ten years ago, it would have been far more bitter and unpalatable. Instead, he's given Adam Driver and Scarlett Johanssen the chance to do some of their best, most affecting work yet, and everyone a reason to revisit Sondheim's back catalog.
Jojo Rabbit - This is probably higher in the rankings than it should be, but "Jojo" is one of my favorite films of the year in spite of its clear weaknesses. What ameliorates a lot of my misgivings is that I see the film as being directed toward the young and impressionable, and I love the way that Taika Waititi finds all these ways to connect the WWII experience with modern culture and get viewers into the same head space as the young leads. The film also surprised me multiple times - and that's always a plus.
The Irishman - I wish I liked this movie more. I admire Martin Scorsese and his collaborators so much for committing to this big, difficult gangster elegy. I don't mind the limits of the de-aging technology, and I don't mind the three hour running time. The performances are fantastic all around, with special kudos to Joe Pesci, who I hope enjoys a late career resurrection. Unfortunately, as with many of Scorsese's other gangster pictures, I didn't find the material compelling. So into the middle of the pack it goes.
1917 - The technical aspects of this film are absolutely impeccable, and I wouldn't be at all surprised it it ended up winning all the major awards. That said, it's hard to get away from the fact that the film is built on a gimmick, and the characters are very thinly drawn. I'm very happy to see it doing so well at the box office, and showing that a good original film can be as effective an action spectacular as any superhero franchise film. I'm just not convinced that it deserves to take home the prize this year.
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood… - Even if I set aside the ending as a matter of taste, I still can't summon up much enthusiasm for Quentin Tarantino's vision of '60s Hollywood. I'm impressed by how lovingly he recreated the parties and the street life, and his takes on the TV and movie production of the times is a lot of fun. However, there's so much self-indulgence here that it grates, and the characters aren't particularly compelling. I wish there were more substance under all the references and glitz.
Joker - And here's the most nominated film of the year, which seems to position it as the frontrunner, but the backlash has been pretty overwhelming. I don't think it's getting anything but Joaquin's Best Actor trophy. I think "Joker" is a perfectly good film overall, a middling Scorsese homage (certainly better than something like "American Hustle"), and a poor "Batman" story. It gets a few extra points for audacity, but it's not remotely as effective of any of the films it takes its influences from.
Ford v Ferrari - It's a solid, well-made sports movie that has both Matt Damon and Christian Bale doing good work. The story is interesting and I like that the conflict is more about the behind-the-scenes clashes than anything going on at Le Mans - though it's Le Mans that delivers all of the big, exciting race sequences. There's just not enough here to really make the film exceptional. I don't think it deserved a nomination, not in a year like this with so many better choices.
---
Monday, February 3, 2020
Finding "Fleabag"
I got overhyped by all the press and awards chatter around "Fleabag," and I'm sorry to say that raised expectations dampened some of my reaction to it, especially the second season. However, I am suitably impressed with everyone involved, especially writer and star Phoebe Waller-Bridge, who plays the unnamed title character.
Our heroine, listed in the credits as Fleabag, is a Londoner in her early thirties, whose life is a mess. She's running a failing business, in a failing relationship, her family situation is depressing, and most of it is her own fault. She's obsessed with sex, loves being inappropriate, is chronically irresponsible, and can't seem to get her life together on any level. Her sister Claire (Sian Clifford) is a type A overachiever, inexplicably married to a drunken lout, Martin (Brett Gelman). Her widowed father (Bill Paterson), has remarried to his daughters' Godmother (Olivia Colman), an insufferable painter and sculptor. And, we learn at the end of the first episode, Fleabag's best friend and business partner Boo (Jenny Rainsford), is recently deceased.
A lot of the fun of "Fleabag" is its fourth wall breaking format. Fleabag will regularly deliver little asides to the audience, Ferris Bueller style, or just glance over at the camera whenever something cringey or juicy happens, to share a conspiratorial moment with the viewer. Most of her love interests are never given names, just listed as Arsehole Guy (Ben Aldridge) or Bus Rodent (Jamie Demetriou) in the credits. This immediately gets the viewer intimately situated into Fleabag's skewed worldview. She candidly shares her views on sex, often pretty graphically. She mercilessly tears down everyone she encounters, and often predicts what people will say before they say it. Despite her long list of faults, it's pretty enjoyable sharing Fleabag's headspace because she's so open and honest in it - well, up to a point.
Phoebe Waller-Bridge's work as a performer goes a long way towards making the material palatable. Fleabag msturbating to a Barack Obama speech may sound overly crass on paper, but watching her do it, and then try to hide the fact from her annoyed boyfriend Harry (Hugh Skinner) is hysterical. It helps that though the dialogue is no-holds-barred, the visuals are pretty tame. A lot of humor comes from the juxtaposition of Fleabag looking perfectly ordinary, in ordinary situations, and the filthiness of her internal monologue. She's charming and assured in her delivery too, which makes it all the more delightful. I don't think there's any actual nudity in the show aside from a few of Godmother's plaster genitalia displays.
Of course, "Fleabag" isn't all vulgarity and perversity. Underlying all of her antics is a deeply sad situation where Fleabag is dealing with grief, guilt, and family dysfunction in some very unhealthy ways. In the second season, the show shifts gears noticeably when Fleabag starts falling for a Hot Priest (Andrew Scott). She's still obsessed with sex, but since the physical act is out of bounds, her attention starts turning to other areas of the relationship, and the show's little structural conceits start to change with them. The most obvious is the fourth wall breaking. As Fleabag and the Hot Priest grow closer, he starts to notice when she makes her asides to the audience, and eventually starts calling her out on it. Watching their relationship develop is such an intimate, bittersweet joy.
The show is so well written, and I love how it doesn't let you forget or dismiss anyone, even though Fleabag frequently does. Godmother is a presumptuous ass, but genuinely loves Fleabag's father. Martin eventually becomes a major antagonist, but it's hard not to sympathize with his impotent frustration. The Hot Priest may be dreamy, but clearly there are a lot of demons in his closet, including a worrying drinking problem. There's even a heartbreaking moment when the seemingly oblivious Bus Rodent reveals that he's perfectly aware that everyone, including Fleabag, is making fun of his teeth. Everyone in the show is sympathetic to some degree, and also very capable of being awful.
The cast is great all around, and the second season features a lot of little one-episode or one-scene roles for big names like Fiona Shaw and Kristen Scott Thomas. Sian Clifford, however, is the MVP as the increasingly lovable Claire. She's so uptight and so miserable, it takes a while to realize that she's actually as much of a mess as Fleabag, except in a totally different way. Olivia Colman is, of course, a treasure, even playing a part where her whole modus operandi is to infuriate you. And the Hot Priest may be the best, and certainly the most likeable role that Andrew Scott has ever had.
We've been informed that there will be no third series of "Fleabag." And in this case, I'm perfectly okay with that. I imagine it would all be downhill from here.
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Our heroine, listed in the credits as Fleabag, is a Londoner in her early thirties, whose life is a mess. She's running a failing business, in a failing relationship, her family situation is depressing, and most of it is her own fault. She's obsessed with sex, loves being inappropriate, is chronically irresponsible, and can't seem to get her life together on any level. Her sister Claire (Sian Clifford) is a type A overachiever, inexplicably married to a drunken lout, Martin (Brett Gelman). Her widowed father (Bill Paterson), has remarried to his daughters' Godmother (Olivia Colman), an insufferable painter and sculptor. And, we learn at the end of the first episode, Fleabag's best friend and business partner Boo (Jenny Rainsford), is recently deceased.
A lot of the fun of "Fleabag" is its fourth wall breaking format. Fleabag will regularly deliver little asides to the audience, Ferris Bueller style, or just glance over at the camera whenever something cringey or juicy happens, to share a conspiratorial moment with the viewer. Most of her love interests are never given names, just listed as Arsehole Guy (Ben Aldridge) or Bus Rodent (Jamie Demetriou) in the credits. This immediately gets the viewer intimately situated into Fleabag's skewed worldview. She candidly shares her views on sex, often pretty graphically. She mercilessly tears down everyone she encounters, and often predicts what people will say before they say it. Despite her long list of faults, it's pretty enjoyable sharing Fleabag's headspace because she's so open and honest in it - well, up to a point.
Phoebe Waller-Bridge's work as a performer goes a long way towards making the material palatable. Fleabag msturbating to a Barack Obama speech may sound overly crass on paper, but watching her do it, and then try to hide the fact from her annoyed boyfriend Harry (Hugh Skinner) is hysterical. It helps that though the dialogue is no-holds-barred, the visuals are pretty tame. A lot of humor comes from the juxtaposition of Fleabag looking perfectly ordinary, in ordinary situations, and the filthiness of her internal monologue. She's charming and assured in her delivery too, which makes it all the more delightful. I don't think there's any actual nudity in the show aside from a few of Godmother's plaster genitalia displays.
Of course, "Fleabag" isn't all vulgarity and perversity. Underlying all of her antics is a deeply sad situation where Fleabag is dealing with grief, guilt, and family dysfunction in some very unhealthy ways. In the second season, the show shifts gears noticeably when Fleabag starts falling for a Hot Priest (Andrew Scott). She's still obsessed with sex, but since the physical act is out of bounds, her attention starts turning to other areas of the relationship, and the show's little structural conceits start to change with them. The most obvious is the fourth wall breaking. As Fleabag and the Hot Priest grow closer, he starts to notice when she makes her asides to the audience, and eventually starts calling her out on it. Watching their relationship develop is such an intimate, bittersweet joy.
The show is so well written, and I love how it doesn't let you forget or dismiss anyone, even though Fleabag frequently does. Godmother is a presumptuous ass, but genuinely loves Fleabag's father. Martin eventually becomes a major antagonist, but it's hard not to sympathize with his impotent frustration. The Hot Priest may be dreamy, but clearly there are a lot of demons in his closet, including a worrying drinking problem. There's even a heartbreaking moment when the seemingly oblivious Bus Rodent reveals that he's perfectly aware that everyone, including Fleabag, is making fun of his teeth. Everyone in the show is sympathetic to some degree, and also very capable of being awful.
The cast is great all around, and the second season features a lot of little one-episode or one-scene roles for big names like Fiona Shaw and Kristen Scott Thomas. Sian Clifford, however, is the MVP as the increasingly lovable Claire. She's so uptight and so miserable, it takes a while to realize that she's actually as much of a mess as Fleabag, except in a totally different way. Olivia Colman is, of course, a treasure, even playing a part where her whole modus operandi is to infuriate you. And the Hot Priest may be the best, and certainly the most likeable role that Andrew Scott has ever had.
We've been informed that there will be no third series of "Fleabag." And in this case, I'm perfectly okay with that. I imagine it would all be downhill from here.
---
Saturday, February 1, 2020
"The Farewell" Brings Everyone Together
"The Farewell" is a movie after my own heart, about a Chinese-American immigrant woman named Billi (Awkwafina) who learns her beloved grandmother, her Nai-Nai (Zhao Shuzhen), is dying of lung cancer. The resulting trip back to China to see her is full of culture clash and family drama, as Billi's relatives have decided to lie to Nai-Nai and pretend that nothing is wrong to avoid upsetting her. Billi, however, has deep misgivings about this approach.
I've never been in this specific situation myself, but I've been adjacent to it before, and likely will have to face something like it in the future. Billi's family situation and awkward straddling of two cultures is certainly familiar, and all her relatives remind me of all my relatives, from the spry matriarch ordering everyone around, to the younger cousins who can't speak Chinese very well, so they rarely say anything. Billi speaks Mandarin with a heavy accent, and is sensitive about it. Still, she does voice her opinions and pushes back against her parents and other relatives, asking uncomfortable questions.
There's no quick and easy guide to all the relationships and history of the family members, but part of the fun of the film is working out how everyone is connected. You have Nai Nai and her younger sister (Lu Hong). There's Billi's parents Haiyan (Tzi Ma) and Lu Jian (Diana Lin), her aunt and uncle (Jiang Yongbo, Li Xiang), and cousin Hao Hao (Chen Han) and his Japanese girlfriend Aiko (Aoi Mizuhara. Hao Hao and Aiko's wedding is being used as an excuse for the family to reunite and say goodbye to Nai-Nai, an awkward endeavor since the bride and groom have only been dating for three months. As you might expect, things occasionally take a turn for the absurd.
I was expecting the movie to be more of a comedy. There's certainly plenty of gentle humor in it. However, it's also a deeply touching, very heartfelt examination of grief and separation. Both of Nai-Nai's sons live overseas, and the reunion is the first time they've both been home at the same time in years, stirring up old conflicts. At a dinner with Nai Nai's niece Yuping (Zhang Jing), there's some pointed jabbing between the family members who left China and the ones who stayed. And as the situation grows more dire, and emotions start rising to the surface, we see several breakdowns and outbursts. The wedding reception sequence in particular is a great mix of farce and melodrama, as several characters reach their limits. Plus, it does a great job of showcasing the pleasures of major Chinese celebrations, with all the food and drinking and a bonus kitschy talent showcase.
The performances drive the film, and the ensemble is a strong one. Zhao Shuzhen is absolutely delightful, playing Nai Nai as bossy and incorrigible, but the one who understands and supports Billi the most. Awkwafina is solid, but the language barriers trip her up a bit at times. I found Diana Lin as Billi's mother and Jiang Yongbo as her uncle were both very strong, providing the necessary counterpoints to Billi's point of view. It's through them that the audience sees the toll of the lie on the rest of the family and learns more of the reasoning behind it. It's very easy to get attached to the whole lot of them, and I was a little sad when the movie ended as I would have liked to get to know them all better.
This is Lulu Wang's first feature, and there are a few bits of indie film frippery that stick out, like odd song choices and a slo-mo walk sequence. However, for the most part, the movie looks and sounds great, really taking advantage of the Changchun locations. I love the casualness with which she captures modern China, the shots of a dragon dancer taking a smoke break halfway out of his costume, or the photography session where the happy couple is posed in front of gaudy backdrops. There are so many little details included that give "The Farewell" a great sense of timeliness and authenticity.
I wish I emotionally connected to the movie more than I did, since it's so often speaking to my own experience. I can say, however, that I am very, very appreciative of it, and glad to see this story on film. Easily my favorite thing about it is that ultimately nobody is wrong, East or West. Everyone acts out of love, and everyone is shown to depend on their own little fictions in the end.
---
I've never been in this specific situation myself, but I've been adjacent to it before, and likely will have to face something like it in the future. Billi's family situation and awkward straddling of two cultures is certainly familiar, and all her relatives remind me of all my relatives, from the spry matriarch ordering everyone around, to the younger cousins who can't speak Chinese very well, so they rarely say anything. Billi speaks Mandarin with a heavy accent, and is sensitive about it. Still, she does voice her opinions and pushes back against her parents and other relatives, asking uncomfortable questions.
There's no quick and easy guide to all the relationships and history of the family members, but part of the fun of the film is working out how everyone is connected. You have Nai Nai and her younger sister (Lu Hong). There's Billi's parents Haiyan (Tzi Ma) and Lu Jian (Diana Lin), her aunt and uncle (Jiang Yongbo, Li Xiang), and cousin Hao Hao (Chen Han) and his Japanese girlfriend Aiko (Aoi Mizuhara. Hao Hao and Aiko's wedding is being used as an excuse for the family to reunite and say goodbye to Nai-Nai, an awkward endeavor since the bride and groom have only been dating for three months. As you might expect, things occasionally take a turn for the absurd.
I was expecting the movie to be more of a comedy. There's certainly plenty of gentle humor in it. However, it's also a deeply touching, very heartfelt examination of grief and separation. Both of Nai-Nai's sons live overseas, and the reunion is the first time they've both been home at the same time in years, stirring up old conflicts. At a dinner with Nai Nai's niece Yuping (Zhang Jing), there's some pointed jabbing between the family members who left China and the ones who stayed. And as the situation grows more dire, and emotions start rising to the surface, we see several breakdowns and outbursts. The wedding reception sequence in particular is a great mix of farce and melodrama, as several characters reach their limits. Plus, it does a great job of showcasing the pleasures of major Chinese celebrations, with all the food and drinking and a bonus kitschy talent showcase.
The performances drive the film, and the ensemble is a strong one. Zhao Shuzhen is absolutely delightful, playing Nai Nai as bossy and incorrigible, but the one who understands and supports Billi the most. Awkwafina is solid, but the language barriers trip her up a bit at times. I found Diana Lin as Billi's mother and Jiang Yongbo as her uncle were both very strong, providing the necessary counterpoints to Billi's point of view. It's through them that the audience sees the toll of the lie on the rest of the family and learns more of the reasoning behind it. It's very easy to get attached to the whole lot of them, and I was a little sad when the movie ended as I would have liked to get to know them all better.
This is Lulu Wang's first feature, and there are a few bits of indie film frippery that stick out, like odd song choices and a slo-mo walk sequence. However, for the most part, the movie looks and sounds great, really taking advantage of the Changchun locations. I love the casualness with which she captures modern China, the shots of a dragon dancer taking a smoke break halfway out of his costume, or the photography session where the happy couple is posed in front of gaudy backdrops. There are so many little details included that give "The Farewell" a great sense of timeliness and authenticity.
I wish I emotionally connected to the movie more than I did, since it's so often speaking to my own experience. I can say, however, that I am very, very appreciative of it, and glad to see this story on film. Easily my favorite thing about it is that ultimately nobody is wrong, East or West. Everyone acts out of love, and everyone is shown to depend on their own little fictions in the end.
---
Thursday, January 30, 2020
Brace Yourself for "The Nightingale"
I went into Jennifer Kent's "The Nightingale" fully warned for what I was getting myself into. This is a brutal movie, full of murder, rape, destruction, and trauma, and it's a movie that ensures the viewer appreciates the full horror of each hideous instance of violence. As a narrative it fits the general pattern of a revenge movie, but it's a revenge that is never meant to be enjoyed.
In 19th century Tasmania, Clare (Aisling Franciosi) is an Irish convict, working for British army Lieutenant Hawkins (Sam Claflin) as a servant. Clare has been allowed to marry Aidan (Michael Sheasby), who she's had a baby girl with, but Hawkins denies her the freedom she's due. The situation escalates into rape and murder, and Clare is set on a path to hunt down Hawkins as he journeys through the wilderness, along with his men, Sergeant Ruse (Damon Herriman) and Private Jago (Harry Greenwood). Clare only has Billy (Baykali Ganambarr), a Tasmanian Aborigine, as a guide, who she slowly becomes friends with.
I admire the way that "The Nightingale" handles violence, rarely lingering on it, often keeping the worst moments offscreen entirely, and yet capturing the full, awful impact of it in a way that few films manage. The focus is on the pain, on the victims and their emotional states. Women screaming and children crying recur over and over again, creating links between different crimes and characters. The film starts out as the story of Clare, but quickly expands to include other victims of Hawkins and his ilk. Chief among these are the "blacks," the various tribes of Aborigines who the British are engaged in bloody warfare with.
It's easy to read the film as symbolic of larger conflicts, with Hawkins standing in for the British colonialists, Billy for the subjugated Aborigines, and Clare for the forgotten women and children who suffered on all sides. However, I found the film so compelling because the characters are so alive and so specific. The performances are strong, with Franciosi distinguishing herself in particular. Clare's rage and righteousness put her on the path to violent revenge, but she's ill suited for it. She constantly looks exhausted and unwell, and in the wilderness she's entirely dependent on Billy's help. Clare puts on a brave, tough front, but that only gets her so far. Her arc is all about realizing her limitations, and shifting her priorities from mindless hatred to survival and justice.
The one hopeful, truly touching element of the film, that made it worth sitting through all the darkness and degradation, is Clare and Billy's friendship. Clare starts out in the role of hostile boss and oppressor, mimicking the soldiers, but circumstances force her to keep reevaluating the relationship. As for Billy, Ganambarr is a great presence, charismatic and appealing. His behavior is never remotely subservient and he's barely even deferential to Clare in their interactions, calling her out for her failings and constantly professing his hatred of the British. It's very satisfying to watch the pair connect and have certain realizations about each other.
On the other side of the coin, Sam Claflin, is an absolute monster as Hawkins. I like that he's playing against type, his leading man looks and charm just making his actions all the more heinous. There's a fascinating subplot where he plays his men against each other and ropes a convict boy named Eddie (Charlie Shotwell) into his power games. It's such a cruel display of his manipulative and exploitative nature, and crushing to see the situation play out. Each of the men embody different vices - cowardice, greed, and resentment, but the one uniting them is lack of empathy. The worst of their actions are born not out of any particular malevolence, but either thoughtless lashing out or careless dehumanization of those around them.
And in the end, for all its horrors, "The Nightingale" is a beautiful film. Kent has the story play out over great expanses of Tasmania's forests, mountains, and beaches. We glimpse its wildlife, and the culture and customs of its native inhabitants. Early moments with Clare's family are tranquil and lovely. The loss and destruction wouldn't have nearly the impact that it does if it weren't made abundantly clear what was being destroyed by the actions of the British. I can't speak to the historical accuracy or sensitivity of the portrayals of any of the groups depicted here, but Kent clearly has great consideration for her subjects. I look forward to whatever she does next.
---
In 19th century Tasmania, Clare (Aisling Franciosi) is an Irish convict, working for British army Lieutenant Hawkins (Sam Claflin) as a servant. Clare has been allowed to marry Aidan (Michael Sheasby), who she's had a baby girl with, but Hawkins denies her the freedom she's due. The situation escalates into rape and murder, and Clare is set on a path to hunt down Hawkins as he journeys through the wilderness, along with his men, Sergeant Ruse (Damon Herriman) and Private Jago (Harry Greenwood). Clare only has Billy (Baykali Ganambarr), a Tasmanian Aborigine, as a guide, who she slowly becomes friends with.
I admire the way that "The Nightingale" handles violence, rarely lingering on it, often keeping the worst moments offscreen entirely, and yet capturing the full, awful impact of it in a way that few films manage. The focus is on the pain, on the victims and their emotional states. Women screaming and children crying recur over and over again, creating links between different crimes and characters. The film starts out as the story of Clare, but quickly expands to include other victims of Hawkins and his ilk. Chief among these are the "blacks," the various tribes of Aborigines who the British are engaged in bloody warfare with.
It's easy to read the film as symbolic of larger conflicts, with Hawkins standing in for the British colonialists, Billy for the subjugated Aborigines, and Clare for the forgotten women and children who suffered on all sides. However, I found the film so compelling because the characters are so alive and so specific. The performances are strong, with Franciosi distinguishing herself in particular. Clare's rage and righteousness put her on the path to violent revenge, but she's ill suited for it. She constantly looks exhausted and unwell, and in the wilderness she's entirely dependent on Billy's help. Clare puts on a brave, tough front, but that only gets her so far. Her arc is all about realizing her limitations, and shifting her priorities from mindless hatred to survival and justice.
The one hopeful, truly touching element of the film, that made it worth sitting through all the darkness and degradation, is Clare and Billy's friendship. Clare starts out in the role of hostile boss and oppressor, mimicking the soldiers, but circumstances force her to keep reevaluating the relationship. As for Billy, Ganambarr is a great presence, charismatic and appealing. His behavior is never remotely subservient and he's barely even deferential to Clare in their interactions, calling her out for her failings and constantly professing his hatred of the British. It's very satisfying to watch the pair connect and have certain realizations about each other.
On the other side of the coin, Sam Claflin, is an absolute monster as Hawkins. I like that he's playing against type, his leading man looks and charm just making his actions all the more heinous. There's a fascinating subplot where he plays his men against each other and ropes a convict boy named Eddie (Charlie Shotwell) into his power games. It's such a cruel display of his manipulative and exploitative nature, and crushing to see the situation play out. Each of the men embody different vices - cowardice, greed, and resentment, but the one uniting them is lack of empathy. The worst of their actions are born not out of any particular malevolence, but either thoughtless lashing out or careless dehumanization of those around them.
And in the end, for all its horrors, "The Nightingale" is a beautiful film. Kent has the story play out over great expanses of Tasmania's forests, mountains, and beaches. We glimpse its wildlife, and the culture and customs of its native inhabitants. Early moments with Clare's family are tranquil and lovely. The loss and destruction wouldn't have nearly the impact that it does if it weren't made abundantly clear what was being destroyed by the actions of the British. I can't speak to the historical accuracy or sensitivity of the portrayals of any of the groups depicted here, but Kent clearly has great consideration for her subjects. I look forward to whatever she does next.
---
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