Countdown to the Oscars: Best Song Re-imagined

Today Cinema Romantico re-imagines the slowly-becoming-irrelevant Oscar category of Best Song as if it was one combined category and the songs did not have to be “original” or fit some other antiquated piece of Academy criteria, and I and I alone was judge and jury in regards to the five nominees.

5. It Must Have Been Love, Roxette in “Comet.” Jumping around in time, “Comet” chronicles the get-together and break-up and get-together and break-up of Dell (Justin Long) and Kimberly (Emmy Rossum). At one point the film winds up in the eighties where the duo argues over the phone, and while the connection between the moment and the song might be far too blatant, and while Rossum’s hair might too absurdly scream 1980’S!!!!!!!!, well, what’s more relatable than the moment she declares “Wait, this is my favorite part” and interrupts their conversation to sing along and rock out? “It must've been love! But it's ooooover nooooow!” *Thumps chest.* (Listen here.)



4. Needles and Pins, Petula Clark in “Two Days, One Night.” The Dardenne Brothers, those champions of cinematic naturalism, purposely avoid music on the soundtrack aside a couple specific sequences, which only makes them count for that much more. The first involves a depressed, embattled Marion Cotillard turning back on the radio after her husband turns off Clark’s version of “Needles and Pins” because he fears its sadness will send her right back over the manic edge. She smiles, she laughs, and for a second you worry that’s the kind of grin and the kind of chuckle that prologues tears. It doesn’t. She holds on. (Watch here.)



3. The Big House, Brett McKenzie in “Muppets Most Wanted.” I like to imagine Vladimir Putin watching this Tina Fey-led doo-wop introducing Kermit to the Russian gulag where he has inadvertently wound up and nodding, satisfactorily, as she sings the lines “This is Russia’s premier state funded hotel / We’re very proud of our eclectic clientele” because it is and they are.

2. Harvest, Neil Young in “Inherent Vice.” . To many of my vastly disappointed friends, I have never been a significant Neil Young fan. And yet...this song fills in the single most romantic moment in the considerable Paul Thomas Anderson canon - two stoned lovebirds on a hopeless quest in the rain but hopelessly in love and blissfully unaware that their love affair, like the era in which they exist, like life itself, is diaphanously dancing past them. Fuck it, let's call this #1A. (Listen here.)

1. Land Ho, Keegan Dewitt & Ólöf Rún Benediktsdóttir in “Land Ho!” “I say, make time to dance alone with one hand waving free.” So said Claire Colburn, the Original [redacted]. Mitch and Colin aren't dancing alone in “Land Ho!”, alas, they are dancing side-by-side, but that's okay. They're in this together, this noble quest to find and feel the Divine lurking somewhere beneath the surface of this humdrum reality. And in this blessed moment, as they dance like two guys that can't dance on this beach to this song, they find it. (Listen here.)

My Favorite Shot Of 2014

Mitch (Earl Lynn Nelson) has retired to the roof of his Reykjavik hotel at the dawn of the evening for a little R&R with a rolled cigarette in his hand containing a substance a little more, shall we say, potent than mere tobacco. The sky spread out before him and the city skyline below sparkle and though "Land Ho!" does not possess texture-o-vision, directors Aaron Katz and Martha Stephens and cinematographer Andrew Reed nonetheless elicit the sensation of stepping into the freezing cold after breathing the same dead air all day and letting the chill rehabilitate your physical being and state of mind. Then, elegantly, the shot dissolves, and as it does, Mitch dissolves into his surroundings.

This is my favorite shot of the year.

When I was a kid I loved vacations and, yet, I could never wait to get home. Not home as in "Iowa" so much as the actual physical edifice of my home. Look, family vacations were often wonderful. Thunderstorms in Colorado Springs and staged melodramas in Dodge City and BBQ in Arkansas, etc., but as a kid you’re like Dorothy Gale and to Dorothy Gale, of course, there was no place like home. And so every single family vacation I remember those final stretches of I-80 and/or I-35 and craving my room and my Tribe Called Quest and Debbie Gibson cassette tapes. This feeling has faded in adulthood. It’s not that I don’t like my home in Chicago, I do, but that my world is so much bigger than my little Nebraska Football-paraphernalia-ensconced bedroom and my problems run deeper and and so I want these emotional and spiritual retreats to count.

This is what Mitch and his fellow road-trip companion, Colin (Paul Eenhoorn), are attempting to do throughout "Land Ho!" They are, to quote the immortal Jack Dawson, making it count. They are trying to dissuade themselves of that dreaded "sunday morning attitude." They are trying to dig beneath the layer of the drudgery of real life and find that divine spirit pulsating just beneath. They are trying to nourish their wounded souls and weary bodies with the restorative, cleansing power of the physical trek as Analēptikós, the greek god of vacation, originally intended.

In that moment, in that shot, the transient nature of the get-away gives way, and Mitch and the place become one.

Giving Thanks For.....

That moment when possibly your favorite film of the year references your favorite film of all time.

"Have you seen 'Last of the Mohicans?'"

Land Ho!

Near the end of “Land Ho!” its seminal moment arises. Two men in their sixties, Mitch (Earl Lynn Nelson) and Colin (Paul Eenhoorn), one-time brothers-in-law, less friends by choice than circumstance, have come to Iceland for a rejuvenating road trip. Camped out in the pristine Nordic countryside, Mitch confesses his reasons for conscripting Colin into this voyage were not entirely forthright and so he proceeds to offer an explanation. And the explanation is everything precisely because it isn’t much at all. The details will not be revealed but suffice it to say they are not based in disease – “I have cancer” – or some such. He didn’t even technically lie, he just conveniently eliminated information because, well, as a man of booming pride he felt a little embarrassed. And in that embarrassment, he betrays a remarkable honesty. And Colin responds just as a real friend would, reassurance by way of soft humor. Then, the film, like life, simply continues as is.

In a thus-far four film career, Aaron Katz, who edited and co-wrote and directed here with Martha Stephens, has proven himself an unrivaled purveyor of these moments, ones in which he takes a traditional movie scenario (The Confessional in this case) and rather than spoof it or turn it inside-out, strips it of the showy non-essentials, leaving behind only the imperatively authentic.

Consider a moment in their trek aboard a rented Humvee (matching Mitch’s personality perfectly) wherein they confront rushing water across the narrow road. Not knowing if they should dare and drive through since they do not know the precise depth, Colin decides he will wade out to gauge it. Seconds later, another car zooms past to reveal it easily passable, instantaneously sucking dry the scene’s inherent suspense, which is essentially what the film itself is doing. No specific goal is aimed for, no obvious epiphany waits. Instead “Land Ho!” is about finding peace in the moment and peace in the place.

Mitch is a gregarious Kentuckian, a part-time pothead and ogler of women half his age who can B.S. with the best of ‘em. This is a dangerous character to both create and play, one that is so outsized and often boorish it teeters on the edge of outright obnoxiousness, like Jonah Hill in “Superbad” with a pension, and yet every boast and vulgarity is undercut with a surprising sweetness. A retired doctor, a brief scene in which he brings out his stethoscope is full of low-key compassion, and acquires further meaning as the film progresses.

Colin, of course, is his opposite, an introspective Australian who is both accustomed to and nevertheless still chagrined (humorously and exasperatedly) by his friend’s behavior. You might say they are a new school Oscar Madison and Felix Unger, but that would suggest “Land Ho!” belabors the rote idea that “opposites attract” when it is more interested in exploring how common ground can be forged in spite of opposing mindsets.

The landscape becomes integral, not incidental, to their journey, the mountainous panoramas and erupting geysers encountered upon leaving Reykjavik behind subtly working to reduce the dual protagonists in their image. Nowhere is this more apparent than an ill-advised middle-of-the-night hike that finds them swallowed up by nature's vastness with nothing but a pair of pitiful glow sticks for guidance. It predictably leads to squabbling - The Break-Up, you might say - but almost instantly the characters move past it. Even as the environ diminishes them, it builds them back up, immersing them in its restorative powers, such as a sequence in a hot spring in which Colin essentially has a lo-fi Meet Cute. It is not, however, a trigger for transformation but a simple embrace of the present. “Land Ho!” is not about getting old and reflecting but about being old and recognizing, an idea the film brilliantly illustrates by ending when it does.

Early in the film, Mitch’s once-removed cousin Ellen (Karrie Crouse) and her friend, Janet (Elizabeth McKee), both college-aged, passing through on their own excursion, join the older men for a fancy dinner. Janet gives a lifelike oration on her field of study, Jewish Mysticism, explaining that below the surface of what we perceive as reality is a divine spirit. Not long after the girls have gone on their way, Mitch and Colin find themselves bundled up on a beach, shuffling to a song on the soundtrack bestowing “Land Ho!” its title. I don't really know if a divine spirit bubbles beneath the surface of this tiring and frustrating reality of ours, but to watch this moment and to watch this film undoubtedly makes me believe that sentiment might just be true.

10 Most Un-Summery Summer Movies To See This Summer

The Summer Movie Season Of 2013 was, to this fan of the artsy-fartsy, hipstery doo-dah, the greatest Summer Movie Season Of All-Time, and I’m not exaggerating. It was the Summer Movie Season of Sofia and Greta and Brit-B-Brit and Jesse & Celine and Sarah Polley’s Family and the ladies of “20 Feet From Stardom” and the righteous tentpole majesty of “White House Down” – #notashamed – and Lake Bell getting hers. It was The Summer Movie Season that literally concluded on the last weekend of August by granting me My Favorite Film Of The Year. I genuinely had no idea summer movies could be so grand.

Alas, ‘tis now the Summer Movie Season Of 2014, and circumstances have swung considerably. Consulting the releases over the course of the next few months leaves me despondent with a forecast of further melancholy. Superheroes and more superheroes and more superheroes and giant robots and ninja turtles and Adam Sandler (but I repeat myself) and extra “Expendables” on top of the original “Expendables” who seem to completely contradict their own name by CONTINUALLY SHOWING UP FOR MORE MOVIES and refusing to extend an invite to Angelina Jolie because they TOTALLY KNOW SHE'D SHOW THEM UP and Lake Bell being rewarded for writing, directing and starring in one of the 2013’s best films by being arm candy for Jon Hamm in “Million Dollar Arm” because HOLLYWOOD LITERALLY HAS NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH WOMEN UNLESS THEY JUST DO IT THEIR DAMN SELVES. (Breathing into a bag.)

Lake Bell: "Okay. So. I had this idea for a really intense chamber piece where three women-"  Hollywood: "Woah. Hold yer horses there, Lake. We were thinking, what if instead you were the Love Interest in 'Million Dollar Arm' and we put you in a Sari?"

This is what we do, right? We moan. We groan. We gripe. Movies suck. They don’t make ‘em like they used to. Hollywood is awful. Earth is evil. The Universe is just a big fat poopy head. I’m playing right into the stereotype of the jaded film critic. Like those fussy dudes at The New Yorker, right? Everyone hates those guys cuz they hate everything. Except Richard Brody wrote the following: “The year 2013 has been an amazing one for movies, though maybe every year is an amazing year for movies if one is ready to be amazed by movies.” And it’s amazing how many people who probably think the film critics at The New Yorker hate everything are more than likely never ready to be amazed by the movies. They are more than likely ready to point out how that ketchup bottle wasn’t in the previous shot and now it is and this movie is LIES!!!!!!!!!!

Well, I want to be amazed. I do. And so I stopped with the woe-is-me and then I started looking around, and I started finding all sorts of potential diamonds in the sweaty, humidified, summery rough. Here then is the most un-summery summer movie preview on the Internet. Though I should advise, the majority of these films might not make to your town right away, if they make it to your own (heck, my town) at all. Nevertheless. (Release dates and release areas are noted in parentheses to give you a better understanding of what you’re not going to be able to see in which case you may have to go see “X Men: Days Of Future Past In The Present Indicative Tense”.)

10 Most Un-Summery Summer Movies To See This Summer 

God’s Pocket (May 9, limited release)

Even if this hadn't turned out to be one of Philip Seymour Hoffman's last efforts, I'd still have been gung-ho to see it. 

The Immigrant (May 16 in NY and LA)

In certain circles, this is as big as “The Dark Knight Rises.” Perhaps you’re not in those circles, perhaps you’re not even aware those circles exist, and that’s fine. But I’m in those circles. And I’m FREAKING OUT! 

The Love Punch (May 23, limited)

Pierce Brosnan and Emma Thompson are a retired couple out to get what’s owed them. “Jonathan! Bring me my green light!” 

Night Moves (May 30, limited)

It’s the latest from the hella realist Kelly Reichardt, an eco-thriller, and the buzz on the festival circuit last year was considerable if not deafening. Also, it provides me the perfect excuse to offer two "30 Rock" hyperlinks in a row (with a Katy Perry hyperlink tossed in just because). #ThisIsHowWeDo 

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 We interrupt this listicle to bring you The Godzilla Reboot (Reboot) Cast Power Rankings! Because This Godzilla Cast Is SO COOL! 

The Godzilla Reboot (Reboot) Cast Power Rankings

10. Ken Watanabe. I like Watanabe but I feel like this is the one place where they didn't get off the beaten path.

9. Aaron Taylor-Johnson. From Kick Ass to Vronsky to one-third of Blake Lively's ménage à trios to screaming and running away from Godzilla. Dude keeps you guessing. Respect.

8. Sean Bean. Whoops! Sorry! I'm confusing "Godzilla" with "Jupiter Ascending"! But don't you agree that Sean Bean should have been in this as a big game hunter gone rogue trying to tag the beast?

7. David Straithairn. This reminds me, I'd like to see a John Sayles-scripted "Godzilla." I imagine it would focus less on Godzilla itself and more on frustrated Tokyo building contractors. 

6. Victor Rasuk. I do recall watching "Raising Victor Vargas" and wondering: "Hmmm. How would Victor Vargas react to a Godzilla attack?" 

5. Elizabeth Olsen. The most unlikely female lead in a gargantuan summer blockbuster since Sienna Miller starred as Black Mascara, the winsome shit-talking villain of the old Confound Comics whose costume was skinny jeans and runny black mascara and whose superpower was a combination of cigarette-smoke and scotch breath that could paralyze a person. (Or did I dream that?) 

4. Richard T. Jones. Cuz this dude's the starting two-guard on the Oh! I Know That Guy I Just Don't Know His Name! All-Stars. 

3. Juliette Binoche. She's only # 3 because, really, once you act opposite Dane Cook, holding your own against Godzilla seems less like a sell-out than a relief. 

2. Bryan Cranston. If I had one wish this summer movie season it would be that "Godzilla's" ultimate reveal is that Cranston's character is actually Tim Whatley.

1. Sally Hawkins. It's always nice to have a rooting interest in a disaster movie and I am totally hitching my star to Sally's wagon. Survive, Sally. Survive. 

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The Fault In Our Stars (June 6)

It stars the Shailene-ster. What else do you need to know? It’s a mainstream release. It’ll be in your city. Just go. 

Life’s A Breeze (June 13, limited)

This modern-day Irish treasure hunt had a showing at the Siskel Center in March and I had to miss it. I won't miss it this time. By which I mean, I'll wait for it to be released on Netflix and watch it then.

Can A Song Save Your Life? (July 4)

This film, John Carney’s much anticipated follow-up to the stellar “Once”, has been re-titled “Begin Again” because, of course, all summer movie titles are required per Hollywood Law to possess no more than five words lest confused patrons think they’re stumbling into an art film. Cinema Romantico, however, refuses to honor the title “Begin Again” and will continue calling it “Can A Song Save Your Life?”, kind of like how a certain sect of Chicagoans stubbornly refuse to refer to the Sears Tower as the Willis Tower Because bitch, please. Wait. Where was I? Right. “Can A Song Save Your Life?” The reviews have been mixed, but this worries me not. After all, I can verify with 100% clarity that a song can save your life. And not a single person on this earth nor a single alien in the night sky can tell me any different. 

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We interrupt this listicle to ask the most pertinent single question of the Summer Movie Season. That is: How Many Funny Lines Will Rose Byrne Actually Be Allowed To Deliver In "Neighbors"? 

 My guess? One. Well, like, half of one. Maybe. Because maybe they cut her half of one funny line in post. Because they had to make room for Seth Rogen's nineteenth "Hey, everybody! I smoke pot!" joke.

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Land Ho! (July 11, NY and LA)

Aaron Katz’s follow-up to Cinema Romantico’s #1 Movie Of 2011 that earned a few jaw-dropping raves outta Sundance. I will hitchhike to Manhattan to see this if that’s what it comes to. 

Mood Indigo (July 18, limited)

A Michel Gondry film in which Audrey Tatou becomes the literal living embodiment of a Duke Ellington song. Which perfectly fits with my recurring dream where I meet a woman who becomes a literal living embodiment of Kathleen Edwards' "12 Bellevue." 

The Two Faces of January (August 8, limited)

Kirsten Dunst stars. And as a Dunst Completist, I have to see it. To quote Coach Norman Dale, "I apologize for nothing."