DJ Earworm's "No More Gas"

A super cool mash-up that's actually about something? DJ Earworm--potentially the best masher out there at the moment if you don't count Girl Talk (and maybe even if you do)--throws Rihanna, Ne-Yo, Estelle, Lupe, and more in a blender and creates, if you listen closely and pay attention, a song about America's dependence on gasoline. Check it out.



I love the clever reference to fossil fuels (you cut me open where the dinosaurs lay) among other ingenious lyrical splices. Check out all his stuff here.

Initial Reaction to Oscar Noms

Ugh.

So...going for even lower ratings than last year, I see?

I actually did think The Reader was a better film than The Dark Knight, but for the sake of relevancy, couldn't you have nominated the film people cared about?

TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER:

Ok, now I've had some time to think it over and make sense of it all. Let's start with...

1. The Reader??? The motherf***ing Reader? While I don't think it's the Academy's responsibility to nominate the most popular movies every year, I feel like, in order to stay relevant, it was their responsibility to nominate The Dark Knight this year (my personal feelings on the film notwithstanding.) But ok, fine, you're going to nominate the Holocaust film. How ballsy, Academy! It's really important that you bring attention to such a horrible event.


Go to the 2:50 mark
At least nominate Christopher Nolan. Stephen Daldry took a powerful script with a lot of potential and really screwed some things up. (That Ralph Fiennes framing device did. not. work. at. all.) I could have directed that script better with my ass...and I'm only barely joking.

2. Brad Pitt for Benjamin Button. Not a big surprise, but still disappointing for me. It's like nominating the volleyball from Cast Away. He was only there to BE A FACE. Pitt, God bless him, is not an actor who triumphs with subtlety (Jesse James notwithstanding). Poor, poor Leo and Clint (and Michael Sheen, too.)

3. No Rachel Getting Married for Original Screenplay? I saw this predicted a few places, but was unwilling to believe it. Jenny Lumet's script has maybe the best dialogue of the year. I haven't seen Frozen River, so I can't comment on that, but for In Bruges to get a spot? Don't get me wrong, it was a perfectly adequate movie, but it followed a lot of tropes and not a moment in it even approaches just one of the AA meetings in Rachel Getting Married.

On the plus side...

1. "O Saya" for Best Song. Slumdog's "Jai Ho" has been getting all the attention, but it's this number, performed by A.R. Rahman and M.I.A., that's my favorite. Can't wait to see both songs performed live at the ceremony.

2. Really disappointed that Dev Patel wasn't nominated--people probably didn't know if he should go under Actor or Supporting Actor--but at least it opened up a slot for Michael Shannon, whose two scenes in Revolutionary Road are the two best scenes in the movie. He's an actor that's been quietly consistent for years--remember Bug?--and I'm happy to see him get recognized.

3. The Academy actually ignores a campaign and places an actor in the category they should be in. I thought pimping Kate Winslet for Best Supporting for The Reader was completely ridiculous. I mean, I get why--don't make her compete against herself--but she's in nearly every scene. I'm glad the Academy ignored Harvey's FYCs and followed the logic. It means Penelope isn't up against Kate and can't rightfully win.

My Top 10 Films of the Year (and a lament)

List-making, especially when it involves rankings and cinema, is usually one of my favorite sports pastimes. Creating my Best Films of the Year List is typically a satisfying reflection on my year in the darkened theaters and the most exciting storytelling that took place within them.

But this year: not so much. To be honest, it was a bit of struggle to find films that were clearly, in my mind, outstanding. While I was only greatly disappointed by a few films, I was moved by very few as well. It’s as if, quality-wise, everything this year shifted a bit toward the middle. Last year, I couldn’t even contain my list to 10 so I extended it to 12. The year before that, I kept it at 10, but I would classify #1 through #10 as outstanding films. Only the top 3 of my 2008 List could even compete with that one.

I know that a large part of the problem is that I simply didn’t get to see many of the lauded films this year because, no big shock, they were in theaters very briefly, if at all. The Edge of Heaven, Happy-Go-Lucky, Frozen River, Ballast, Trouble the Water, Wendy and Lucy, Let the Right One In? Sorry, none of these made it to my local Cineplex and I live in freakin’ Hollywood. To be fair, if I had pursued screenings of these vigorously, I probably could have found a lead. But I work full time, people. Bring the mountain to Mohammed. (I’m trying to supplement with FYC screeners at the moment, but there’s only so much I can do.)

So now that your expectations are set ridiculously low, let me get on with it: My Ten Favorite Films of 2008.

MAN ON WIRE
This documentary about Philippe Petit’s (highly illegal) 1974 tightrope-walking routine between the Twin Towers tries to be—and is—many things. It’s a quirky and suspenseful heist film. It’s an ode to the double-helix nature of purpose and obsession. It’s Petit’s biopic, chronicling his life from childhood to his many acts of derring-do. But what resonates most are the simple images of Petit, on the wire between those now-fallen towers: they’re startling and wondrous because they cast the human form in a position of such playful triumph, looming skyscrapers sprouting around him but not underneath. Petit’s act is so innocent in its intentions that it’s ultimately deeply inspirational. He’s the anti-David Blaine; his joyful performances aren’t about making you ask how he did it, they’re about opening you up to new possibilities.

IRON MAN
Iron Man executes its buttered-popcorn formulas so well and with such exuberance that it almost feels…old-fashioned. While other blockbusters, namely superhero movies, have felt the need to bring the big questions about identity and purpose and good and evil and blah blah blah up to the surface, Iron Man refreshingly lets them simmer in the subtext and it became, rightfully, a word-of-mouth event, something for which audiences weren’t willing to just wait for the DVD. Robert Downey, Jr. anchors the film with charm and wit that always manage to stay on just the right side of sleazy and Jon Favreau, meanwhile, has grown into one of the most commercially clever directors a studio can hire. He’s not about lighting up all your senses, he’s about lighting up all the ways you can engage with a movie: it’s a deft balance of excitement, suspense, humor, romance, and melodrama, always cohesive and always rewarding.

TRANSSIBERIAN
Speaking of blockbusters, Transsiberian is a Hollywood actioner in indie’s clothing. Writer and director Brad Anderson adds so much character development and smart tension amidst his train-set caper, that it feels like the movie Sydney Pollack forgot to make in the 70s. How such a smart, twisting (but never manipulative) script didn’t end up at a major studio, I don’t know, but I’m grateful. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have starred Emily Mortimer and Woody Harrelson (ok, maybe Woody would have been in it still) who work wonderfully as a married couple. They’re less upfront about their demons than they let on and when a shifty young couple befriends them on the ride to Russia, one troublesome thing leads to another. Transsiberian is clever enough, but even more impressive is the way it builds its thrills around characters that defy tired archetypes.

THE BAND’S VISIT
There are “quiet movies” and then there’s The Band’s Visit. Not a whole lot happens, per se. An Egyptian police band that’s playing at the opening of an arts center gets on the wrong bus and ends up stuck in a sleepy hollow of an Israeli town. Some of the locals provide them shelter for the night and, in simple scenes that utilize immensely talented actors, the exchange begins. Except the exchange isn’t so much cultural as personal: individuals who seem to have little in common provide each other with insight and healing. Sure, that’s been done before, but The Band’s Visit does it with such grace and beauty—the cinematography is sometimes jaw-droppingly gorgeous, especially considering all the interior and night shots—that it actually makes you believe in the power of fleeting, across-the-border human connections again.

MILK
I’ve never seen archival footage worked into a film as well as I have with Milk. Old news footage is spliced in with original footage in such a way that, rather than reminding you to feel something since this really happened, it simply drives the plot forward and builds on the story’s momentum. It’s clever and effective, much like the moves that Harvey Milk himself made while in office. The film is most engaging when it focuses on the political strategies behind his courageous moves (and the courage behind his strategies) and as Harvey, Sean Penn does, arguably, the best work of his career. Josh Brolin, too, provides remarkable moments of bubbling fear and anger in a slightly underwritten role. Milk is the rare biopic that knows where and when to shift the focus, and how to show the man behind the movement rather than glorify the man as the movement.

BIGGER STRONGER FASTER*
The critics who decried that this thorough and winning documentary is pro-steroid are missing the point completely. Filmmaker Chris Bell, who’s like a Michael Moore with perspective and decency, investigates the long history of illegal steroid use because it’s not only suddenly very topical, but also very personal. His brothers, aspiring weightlifters and pro wrestlers, are steroid-users themselves and Bell uses their stories to augment his investigative social history of “the juice.” Bell never argues for steroid use, but he makes a compelling case for steroids-as-scapegoat. And then Bell goes even deeper and looks at steroids not as the problem itself, but as a symptom of the American psyche and its obsession with record-breaking. The fact that Be All You Can Be isn’t quite enough; you should be able to be more. The doc covers a lot of ground in terms of ethics in performance enhancement (in education, business, sports, etc.) and all of it is fascinating. Bell asks tough questions that might catch you off guard and the time with him is an enriching experience.

RACHEL GETTING MARRIED
The moment Kym’s parents pick her up at the rehabilitation clinic to attend her sister’s wedding, you know this weekend is doomed. But the psychological battles that ensue between family members—hard-living Kym, wise and confident Rachel, and their overemotional father and estranged mother—is not only riveting stuff; it’s occasionally downright profound. Jenny Lumet’s screenplay is packed with dialogue that cuts and stabs but never feels inauthentic, especially when delivered by a cast that seems to truly operate like a real family. (In my opinion, Anne Hathaway and Debra Winger give the performances of the year.) Jonathan Demme captures it all in voyeuristic handheld shots that bring us into the family unit in such a way that we can actually sense their intimacy—and almost feel as if our presence is violating it. As the emotional wounds are ripped open, rubbed with alcohol, and then finally left to heal, we understand the pain these people have caused each other and what exactly their capacity for forgiveness is, if any.

FROST/NIXON
Frost/Nixon was much slicker than I thought it would be and I mean that as a high compliment to Ron Howard. Sure, it’s still white guys sitting in a room talking, but they’re talking with such passion! It’s a tennis match of a mind game and there are moments that sizzle with electricity. The beauty, of course, comes from the fact that Nixon and Frost each see the other as the key to his own redemption. Nixon knows exactly what he needs to do; Frost, however, can’t quite figure out how to escape his talk show host box. He’s an entertainer for God’s sake. Peter Morgan’s script gamely blends personal issues into the narrative, but he stops short of trying to overhumanize anyone. Nixon and Frost are two men quite aware of the fact that image—coiffed or sweaty—has played a more important role in their life than they’d like. The film is, in many ways, a courtroom drama and a fascinating character study, but it’s also an exploration into the ways we seek truth through the media and also how we disguise it there.

SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE
No need to gripe about implausibility when the film hints within its very first frames that it’s a fairy tale, an ode to the unexplainable magic of fate. And it’s a kinetic fairy tale at that, pulsing with cinematic energy. I could go on for paragraphs about my respect for the craftsmanship—the vibrant cinematography, the assured editing, the exhilarating score, and Danny Boyle’s brilliant direction—because they elevate the movie into the extrasensory, global experience it has become. The modern, violent romance of the story though—of lives that scrape by, holding onto only the intangible motivators of love and vengeance—is what swells the heart. As it tracks the key events in the lives of the resourceful brothers at the story’s center—their Shakespearean conflicts played out against a corrupt, developing India—the film gets you invested by lacing each moment with a tender, recognizable humanity. And the moment in which crowds around India flock to TV sets to watch our hero’s attempt at winning the grand prize is the moment in which I, for one, felt a part of the world’s great audience, excited to find this film and thrilled to root for it.

WALL-E
Putting these Top 3 in order wasn’t an easy task, but in the end, I found the most fair way I could to break the tie: the ways in which I connected to the film. Frost/Nixon was a movie of the mind and Slumdog was very much a movie of the heart. Wall-E, though, connected on both levels and I’m still in awe of its ability to do so (and to continue doing so.)
Wall-E is, for the first half anyway, nearly an experimental film. The lack of dialogue, the apocalyptic landscapes, the tiny, quirky life of a robot—it almost sounds like a film Dieter would have pitched. And yet, Wall-E is instantly and deeply emotional in its quiet movements. It’s a Chaplin film in which the slapstick is understated and the world is vast and gorgeously colored. And, good Lord, the inventiveness involved is simply staggering, from the overall concept to those incredibly tender moments using—of all things!—footage and music from Hello, Dolly! Almost single-handedly, it reminded me just how wondrous the cinematic experience can be.
Wall-E, in its second half, sharply addresses waste-lot/want-lot culture with satire that’s so playful it becomes hopeful. Too many wrongly pigeonholed Wall-E as An Inconvenient Robot; it’s about far more than environmental protection. It’s about clinging to our own identities as human beings rather than our identities as consumers. (Remember when the bloated future people were offered a new color in their bland, monochrome unitards? Brilliant!) It’s about the persevering force of optimism. It’s about the very value of life, and it’s revelatory in its presentation of the message. Wall-E feels like—and, I believe, is—a film that will be seen as a groundbreaking achievement in its flawless, technical beauty; in its bold, risky storytelling; and in its ability to ask mass audiences to set down their Extra Large Cokes and pay attention to the present and wonder—quite hopefully—about the future.

Best Performances of 2008: Part 2

Michael Sheen, Frost/Nixon
Langella, Shmangella. Too often in this industry, credit goes to the wrong people. And while the heaps of praise thrown onto Frank Langella’s astute portrait of Nixon aren’t undeserved, they’re a tad out of balance. Sheen plays the figure with whom the general public is far less familiar, so he’s not getting graded on accuracy of tics. Like in The Queen, Sheen creates wonderful moments from scenes in which his character is getting more than he bargained for. His quest is to be taken seriously, but it also fueled by his naive curiosity in the politics (and the entertainment!) of it all. He’s all charm, with bravado simmering under its surface.

Tilda Swinton, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Swinton is always reliable (and is consistently cast as women with icy edges). In Button, though, I found myself actually rooting for her over Blanchett’s Daisy, who came off far more chilly. Swinton brings a genteel warmth to her role that makes her the perfect mentor-in-love for Brad Pitt’s Benjamin. The character’s sadness and joy come from such a similar place, that they land with the same restrained softness. It’s a performance that’s so genuinely delicate, it seems to capture the film’s intent better than the film itself.

Max Richter, Waltz with Bashir
The animators do a vivid job of taking you to a time and place (the 1982 Lebanon War); the film is about, after all, reconstructing memories and animation is a brilliant tool for such an undertaking. The music, though, punctuates those visuals with the perfect blend of machismo and melancholy. Whether using simple piano pieces—especially for the unforgettable sequence that inspires the film’s title—or rougher, more experimental sequences with synthesizers, Richter’s music pulls you into the fractured memories and underscores the anxiety of those trying not to fully remember.

Kristen Bell, Forgetting Sarah Marshall
Even Judd Apatow-driven romantic comedies usually peg the female as a user-friendly archetype: the princess, the loon, the “shrew.” But Forgetting Sarah Marshall requires its title character to be a far more complicated creature. She’s a cheater, but she’s not evil. She’s shallow, but she’s trying not to be. She’s wildly confident and deeply insecure. Bell nails this woman with her shaded deliveries; it’s a performance of subtleties yet it never feels out of place is a slightly manic film. It’s proof that Bell could easily anchor a film of any genre, as long as it requires more from her than playing a female stereotype, something she’s deftly avoided so far.

Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler
I can’t remember the last time a role was so perfectly suited for the actor that played it. Rourke’s own career is certainly fodder for his character (a way past-his-prime pro wrestler), as is his over-charged body and bludgeoned-to-disfigurement face. You couldn’t have cast it any better. But beyond casting, there’s great acting, and Rourke gives Randy the Ram more gravitas than just a teddy bear with demons. He’s grabbing onto every human soul that passes through his life, desperately trying to make a connection. It’s more than a fear of loneliness; he quietly battles the fear of becoming irrelevant. Even though The Wrestler requires so much physical work from Rourke, it’s ultimately a very internal performance, a man not so much haunted by what he’s become as a man yearning to be something once again.

Jack Black, Kung Fu Panda
A vocal performance that belongs in the annals alongside Robin Williams in Aladdin and Eddie Murphy in Shrek. Black energizes the out-of-his-elements Po without ever making him manic or too silly. He’s a dreamer getting a dose of reality and Black does a superb job tracing that battered optimism. It’s a performance that undeniably, infectiously joyful.

The Women of Rachel Getting Married
That runway ready Hepburn-in-the-making you know from unapologetically commercial flicks is nowhere to be seen in Rachel Getting Married. Anne Hathaway’s Kym references herself in a wedding toast as “Shiva the Destroyer” and, as Kym’s emotional showboating cuts deeply into those around her, you understand how little she was kidding. Hathaway is a can’t-take-your-eyes-off-her wonder and she understands how Kym, out of rehab for the weekend, needs to make everything about her, despite (or because of) the fact that it’s her sister’s wedding. As the sister in question, Rosemarie DeWitt is wonderful; she gives Rachel’s psychoanalytical jabs an deep emotional touch. And Debra Winger, as the estranged mother both girls seek affection from, would be an Oscar frontrunner in a perfect world. Winger gives us a cruelly honest portrait of a woman we know: she’s able to fake her way through the life by clinging to its routines and never truly emotionally investing in anything or anyone.

Danny Boyle and Chris Dickens, Slumdog Millionaire
I am so amazed at how brilliantly this film was put together because so much could have been lost. I think, to be quite honest, the script is getting too much credit; the dramatic tension, the beats of romance and terror and excitement and wonder, work so well because of how Boyle (director) and Dickens (editor) brought them to life with thrilling energy that shrewdly combines Bollywood romanticism, gritty realism, and an (early) MTV pacing without the MTV gloss. Dickens splices together the beautiful footage to pull you into the slums and then push you back out, to guide you from present to past without losing any bearings. It’s no wonder it’s become such an accessible, stand-up-and-cheer film.

Robert Downey, Jr., Tropic Thunder and Iron Man
By rooting itself in Downey’s smart-alecky, wordy egotism, Iron Man became the best superhero film of all time. I can’t remember the last time I saw a hero that I got so excited to root for. And as Kirk Lazarus, in the gut-bustingly hilarious Tropic Thunder, Downey captures Hollywood narcissism with controlled glee. He’s so far in character (in another character) that you’re willing to believe that he was once actually found “in a refrigerator box in an alley in Burbank trying to re-enter the Earth’s atmosphere.”

Best Performances of 2008: Part 1

Sam Rockwell, Snow Angels

Rockwell’s charisma has always seemed to come from his ability to act simultaneously earnest and half-baked. In Snow Angels, though, that charisma is a skin his character slowly sheds. As a recovering alcoholic and newbie Jesus freak, he’s a man desperately trying to put his life in order. Rockwell makes sure we know the man only wants to believe he’s truly changed, and in doing so, he creates a devastating portrait of a man who’s an American tragedy.

Kat Dennings, Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist
Lots of actresses have spent their careers playing thinly veiled versions of themselves. Diane Keaton has done it a lot lately while Julia Roberts did it for most of the nineties. And now comes Kat Dennings, whose Norah is, it seems, as unassumingly smart and sweetly bitter as the actress herself. It’s a sweet performance, but it’s not gentle. Rather, Dennings laces her (endless?) charm with equal parts acid and sugar. Teen movies have found their newest relatable heroine.

Sean Penn, Milk
Penn does so much with…so much. The performance is, of course, a total transformation: voice, posture, mannerisms, even his face looks somehow different. And he does all those things with seamless grace. Most impressively, though, Penn does something he’s never done before; he exudes warmth in every frame.

Gavin Bocquet, The Bank Job
I’m disappointed at how overlooked this film was; it was marketed a little bizarrely. What seemed like a heist film was actually a far more complex based-on-a-true-story period heist film. One of the most fun elements of the film is the way it brings 1971 London to life through extensive (but never overbearing) production design. Bocquet’s various sets and designs give the movie just the right texture.

Penélope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
I don’t know anyone who saw this movie and hadn’t wished that she’s been in it more. Hell, I would be first in line for Maria Elena Barcelona. As the jealous (and crazy) ex-wife of Juan Antonio, Cruz makes her every move, no matter how irrational, an act of artful seduction. I’ve never seen her bring this much energy to the screen before and, with this much fire behind her eyes, it’s difficult to not be entranced, even if she’s trying to kill you.

Thomas Newman, Revolutionary Road
The dialogue kind of felt like every other trapped-in-the-suburbs drama you’ve ever seen. Except maybe a little more Theatre-ish. So it’s understandable if the script couldn’t get you to feel the pain. The score, however, with its perfect piano flourishes, achieved it beautifully. The pain, beauty, and melancholy is all summed up in that simple but harrowing orchestration.

Jess Weixler, Teeth
She deftly handled a role that was, somehow, even more difficult than it sounded. Playing a sexually undereducated teen with, ahem, vagina dentate, Weixler had to consistently strike the perfect balance between humor and horror, drama and…dentate. She plays it straight, but never forgets what kind of movie she’s in either. It’s a star-making performance and she rightfully won the Sundance Acting Prize for it.

The Sound Department, The Dark Knight
I will say this about The Dark Knight: I’ve never had that kind of sonic experience in a theater before. Everything was cracklingly alive, from the revving engines of the Batcycle to the exploding hospital to the pop of every gun. The soundscape did so much to pull you into the film’s environment.

David Kross, The Reader
For his 18th birthday, he had to simulate sex with Kate Winslet. Good for him. Unbelievably, this is Kross’ first big role but you’d never know it. He’s brilliant, capturing the heightened emotions of a lovelorn--and lustlorn--teen who tries to challenge the world with his deeds. Kross says everything with his eyes, but he injects his character’s dialogue with a secretive passion and, later, tinges it with conflicted guilt. It’s not long before he’s a full-fledged lead actor.

Ricky Gervais, Ghost Town
He does his thing, and usually that would be enough, but he does it with such a touch of kindness (and great chemistry with Tea Leoni), that it resonates in both the funny bone and the heart. He also delivers the best final-line-from-a-movie this year.