Pop/Corn

Bette Davis Thighs

BENNETT PLACE: SECTION FIFTY SEVEN

CINETEXT -- part eighteen

Stupid, stupid, stupid

   This is a compiled list of movies that if given the chance to go back in time, I would have spent my theater or rental money on porn or hamburgers. It would have been a much more memorable experience. I'd also kill to have the wasted brain cells back as I am convinced at this point that all the bad TV and movies over the years has made me dumber. I'm also tremendously guilty of my own financial encouragement to a spiraling Hollywood. The more money that Roland Emmerich makes, the more accessible film is going to get. I predict that film will eventually be just an interactive videogame much like the sex scene between Sandra Bullock and Sly Stallone in Demolition Man. I challenge you as a viewer to stop going to the movies. Do not see the movies on my list. Rise above the average and stop settling for mediocrity.

-Jess

Alien Resurrection (1997)
Nothing But Trouble (1991)
Matrix Revolutions (2003)
Southland Tales (2007)
Empire Records (1995)
The Relic (1996)
Girl, Interrupted (1999)
The Postman (1997)
Identity (2003)
K-Pax (2001)
Bio-Dome (1995)
Down to You (2000)
Mimic (1997)
Secret Window (2004)
The Happening (2008)
Beaches (1988)
Harry and Tonto (1974)
The Neverending Story 2 (1991)
Brown Bunny (2003)
Terror Firmer (1999)
Elizabethtown (2005)
Cursed (2005)
The Stupids (1996)
Planet of the Apes (2001)
Deadly Friend (1986)
Pearl Harbor (2001)
Practical Magic (1998)
Stepmom (1998)
The Rocketeer (1991)
Wrong Turn (2003)
Sweet November (2001)
Strange Days (1995)
Alone in the Dark (2005)
Jack (1996)
Virtuosity (1995)
Halloween Resurrection (2002)
1941 (1979)
Moulin Rouge (2001)
Tree of Life (2011)
Amittyville Dollhouse (1996)
Ghosts of Mars (2001)
Pay it Forward (2000)
Star Wars Episode 2: Attack of the Clones (2002)
Miss Congeniality (2000)
Milk Money (1994)
Mr. Wrong (1996)
Road Trip (2000)
Patch Adams (1998)
Mission to Mars (2000)

Illustrated Albums

Scissor Sisters - Ta-Dah

Don't Feel Like Dancin'
She's My Man
I Can't Decide
Lights
Land Of A Thousand Words
Intermission
Kiss You Off
Ohh
Paul McCartney
The Other Side
Might Tell You Tonight
Everybody Wants The Same Thing

Collage

32

A FEW BAD FILMS : I HARDLY KNEW YE

 

This is a tricky subject - it always has been for me. I've attempted a "worst movie" list a couple of times in the past, only to abandon it immediately, due to sharp boredom, or I was just startled by the futility of it. It's difficult because the concept itself is a contradiction. I don't know if my criteria differs from everyone else's, but the movies I dislike don't exactly stand out in my mind - that's why I dislike them. The notion of  "I Hated, Hated, HATED THIS MOVIE" is simply not applicable to most of the movies I've seen (a couple, maybe) because the ultimate failure a movie can carry is to be completely forgettable. So, if I've completely forgotten them, how can I include them in some inclusive list?

   Fortunately (not for the purpose of this list, but for the sake of it) I kept a list of every movie I saw from 1992 to 2004, tallying at roughly 1,300 movies. It's a helpful thing for projects like this, even if it is missing nearly a decade of recent stuff. But that's okay, because from 2004 up til forever is when I was and will be at my pickiest. I'm not a professional film critic, or Quentin Tarantino, so I'm not obliged to see everything (or even anything) that comes out. That's why this list (or any list Jess or I throw on here) is not Scripture. Speaking for myself, I'm sure the 2000s offered some clunkers that I didn't see (mostly because, when I could help it, I stayed away from horror movies, comic book adaptations, mumblecore indies, teen and romantic comedies, and pretty much everything else). Point is, this is not a definitive list for you, you, or you. I'll safely bet that there are some turkeys that aren't on this list because I didn't see them. Green Lantern might've been lame, but I wouldn't know because I didn't see that shit. So, it's not a "Worst of All Time," just the worst of my time.

   I like lists of bad movies just as much as the next really cool person. And there are a lotta them. And just like the "Best Movies" lists, they're generally vaguely similar from one to the next. The so-called "universally bad" movies that show up every time are what draw us to scan these lists and share a smile while we all remember all the funny, inept qualities of Troll 2. This is the paradox that presents a wall when I attempt a list like this. I don't really love Troll 2, but I remember it. I own it. It's colorful, fast-paced, and it makes me laugh. Anyone I've ever spoken to who has seen it openly feels the same way. I haven't seen the documentary, but it made it apparent that a lot of people actually do love it. Would they place it upon their "worst movie" list? Are they articulate or brave enough to defend it? Question is, when we enjoy and even champion a bad movie, what becomes of the definition of "bad?" Like George Carlin said: "Try to pay attention to the language we've all agreed on." Not that I'm so foolish and defiant that I'm unable to recognize all the ways Troll 2 doesn't exactly adhere to the basic laws of filmmaking, but it does make me that much more aware of all the other movies that deserve this dishonor so much more. And these lists are always littered with similar fare, so much so that it only ever furthers the love and cult status of most of them. Separate from, but similar to that, there are movies I'd watch again to blissfully marvel at their incompetence (Timeline, The Room). There are sci-fi and horror flicks that I think work cleverly within their genre (Plan 9, Manos). There's the contemporary smut that I find as exciting as classical trash, (Body of Evidence, Showgirls). Or, maybe I just like Sly Stallone (Rhinestone, Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot!). I tend to draw a pretty short, straight line between movies and music. So, when it comes to pop, I want something catchy; a hook, a melody, something that might get stuck in my head. I don't think that's too much to ask, nor do I think I'm being very picky. Roger Corman and Jack Hill knew how to do it. Hell, apparently Tommy Wiseau knows how to do it. These are the movies that didn't know how to do it. Some of them tried to be pop. Some tried to be funny, or scary, or exciting, or moving. Some took a whiz on the original. Some actually had some talented people involved. Equally, though, I found them all to be irritating and/or boring, and there's no cult status in that.

-Paul

Problem Child (1990)
National Lampoon's European Vacation (1985)
Reposessed (1990)
Arthur 2, On the Rocks (1988)
Big Top Pee Wee (1988)
Robin Hood, Men in Tights (1993)
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 3: Turtles in Time (1993)
The Jewel of the Nile (1985)
The River (1984)
Sliver (1993)
The Mask (1994)
Cabin Boy (1994)
Stargate (1994)
Street Fighter (1994)
Mixed Nuts (1994)
Species (1995)
The Truth About Cats and Dogs (1996)
The Pest (1997)
My Best Friend's Wedding (1997)
Beverly Hills Ninja (1997)
Mallrats (1995)
And Now For Something Completely Different (1972)
An American Werewolf in Paris (1997)
Dracula : Dead and Loving It (1996)
The Road to Wellville (1994)
Vegas Vacation (1997)
Lost in Space (1998)
The Thin Red Line (1998)
The Waterboy (1998)
The Players Club (1998)
Dennis the Menace Strikes Again (1998)
Bless the Child (2000)
Book of Shadows : Blair Witch 2 (2000)
Tomcats (2001)
The Wild World of Batwoman (She Was A Happy Vampire) (1966)
Zoolander (2001)
Daredevil (2003)
Hellraiser: Hellworld (2005)
2012 (2009)
Dune (1984)
Disaster Movie (2008)
Blues Brothers 2000  (1998)
Man of the House (1995)
Summer of Sam (1999)
Congo (1995)
The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Crash (2004)
Batman and Robin (1997) 
The Rock (1996)
Speed 2 : Cruise Control (1997) 

BENNETT INVENTORY : Oscar History

25 Movies That Were Nominated For Best Picture

Love Story
Jerry Maguire
Moonstruck
The Godfather Part 3
Up in the Air
Working Girl
The Blind Side
The Prince of Tides
The Alamo
The Towering Inferno
Scent of a Woman
Four Weddings and a Funeral
The Cider House Rules
The Full Monty
127 Hours
The Reader
Atonement
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
Seabiscuit
Chocolat
Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' By Sapphire
Michael Clayton
Capote
Gosford Park
The Kids Are Alright

...And 25 That Weren't

2001: A Space Odyssey
Boogie Nights
Ed Wood
The Dark Knight
Empire Strikes Back
Glory
The Thing
Zodiac
Last of the Mohicans
Jurassic Park
The Royal Tenenbaums
Casino
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Some Like it Hot
Inherit the Wind
Night of the Hunter
Easy Rider
Rosemary's Baby
Short Cuts
Psycho
Rebel Without a Cause
Blue Velvet
King Kong
Toy Story
The Searchers

Soleil Moon-Fried Chicken

Quick Ones

• Fox keeps telling me I can "become a fan of The Simpsons." All this time I never knew I needed permission.
•  "The Number One Movie In The Country" is not a review.
• How come Chinese restaurants don't give out those rolls anymore? You know, those rolls?
• In theaters, films are presented in a "WIDESCREEN" format. The black bars at the top and bottom of the screen are the ceiling and the floor.
• The alternate title for The Sound of Music was, This is What Happens When You Find a Stranger in the Alps.
•  If Dum-Dums were Smarties, then Airheads would be Nerds. Refrain from Snickers and Chuckles.
• Was the Dukes of Hazzard movie any dumber than the show?
• Steven Spielberg will die in your lifetime.
• It's bad luck to watch Friday the 13th.
• I was told, "Don't eat the yellow snow." Personally, I find any color other than white to be troubling.
• Your thoughts are your own until you Tweet them.
• What's the deal with airplane peanuts?
• Morgan Spurlock turned McDonald's into Starbucks.
• The worst thing about Ghostbusters the movie is "Ghostbusters" the song.
• The Thompson Twins had three members and none of them were twins.
• Girls Meets World insinuates homosexual overtones.
• Where's that Nic Cage?
• A new toothbrush has ambiguous consequences. 
• Pleasantville has the worst poster, soundtrack album cover, VHS and DVD art of all said media.
• It's really tedious to listen to someone describe a TV show - even if it's one you like.

TOP 100 : THE CURRENT LIST AND MAGNOLIA REVIEW

"A naked fact startles a meeting of a scientific society - and whatver it has for loins is soon diapered with conventional explanations." 

                                                                -Charles Fort

   The immaculate silliness of these "internet blogs" is perhaps best personified by the indulgence of reviewing a movie that came out over a decade ago and that everyone has already seen.

   Not that I'm at all self-conscious -- pffffft! Instead, I say this as perhaps a promise that this cannot be "one of those things." This, please, cannot be that.

   Anyone involved in media - either professionally or identified as such socially - contracts a lot of scrutiny regarding their favorite movie. I've certainly never been any exception; even before my Top 100 video. I was the kid who kept a list of every movie he saw. Then in college, surrounded by highly opinionated students and professors, all with their own ideas of right and wrong, good and bad. And whatever movie you "chose" as your favorite defined you within some circles. Not that personality traits are assigned to each movie, but you knew: you knew the Clockwork Orange kid, the Blue Velvet kid, the Princess Bride kid. But that's the thing -- you don't choose it as much as it chooses you, and if you can articulate exactly what it is that you like about it, then you've learned something about yourself: you like Taxi Driver because you identify with Travis. You like Citizen Kane because you respect the AFI. You like Dirty Dancing because you want Johnny to teach you to dance, while simultaneously falling in love with you and keeping you out of corners. The same way there's no right or wrong movie to love, there's really no right or wrong reason.

   One of the first things Jess ever asked me was, "Why is Magnolia your favorite movie?" And I answered in the same "piss-off" way I answered that question to anyone I hardly knew, whch was probably something like "I dunno. Just is. Piss off." The fact is, while that answer was always rooted in the laziness and indifference of not wanting to dig any deeper, it actually doesn't go much deeper than that. I wrote a straightforward review of it in high school, which consisted mostly of plot synopsis and thematic analysis, and I wrote a comparative essay in college disecting the parallels between Magnolia and Short Cuts. Neither were really subjective in nature -- a problem I've always found in most art criticism (including my own). The fact is, it's easier to describe a film; generally, it allows a more verbose approach/a higher word count. Hopefully, I'm not guilty of that here, today, but I've never been able to describe my feelings for this film without telling the whole story.

   So rarely am I surprised by a film. My expectations are always even, and generally I see exactly what I expected, or I'm just disappointed. Every once in a while, though, I'm legitimately taken for a ride: whether it's the presentation, plot twists, or overall tone, I'm a sucker for originality. Pulp Fiction was a surprise. About Schmidt was a surprise. Bubble was a surprise. But not before or since have I been blindsided the way I was by Boogie Nights. The idea of a sexy, tongue-in-cheek period piece was intriguing to me as a horny 15-year-old movie buff, but I wasn't expecting exciting, intelligent, life-changing. I immediately sought out Hard Eight, which admittedly was a step backward, yet thereby whetting the lust for what the future could hold. And like the handful of movies that surprised me, there have only been a handful of movies that I've been excited for: Batman Returns, Bram Stoker's Dracula, Speed, Eyes Wide Shut, Traffic, Blow -- just to name a few. Some of them actually met my expectations, some of them fell just short, some of them were grave disappointments. Only one ever exceeded my hopes, and miraculously, it's when my hopes were at their highest.

   For months I'd heard the director of Boogie Nights was gonna have a new movie (a phrase we hear about twice a decade now.) This was before I'd had internet access - or really even knew what internet was. My outlets for movie news were Entertainment Weekly and trailers at the theater, and in the approximately 30 to 40 theater visits in the latter half of '99, I didn't see a single preview for it. Then on Thanksgiving of that year, later in the evening at my grandparents' apartment, one of the younger kids popped The Spy Who Shagged Me into the VCR. The sound was all the way down, and there were multiple loud conversations going on within every room. I didn't take notice right away, but I just happened to look over at the TV to see Tom Cruise, framed in Cinemascope, speaking into the lens. I'd known he was in it, and in that millisecond, it just looked and felt right, and I wondered if this could be it. And as soon the whip cuts kicked in and I saw Phil Hoffman and Philip Baker Hall and Bill Macy and on and on, I knew this was my first taste of the new movie. I immediately leapt across the room and hit "eject." I brought the tape into the bedroom alone to watch the trailer properly, with the sound up. And as I sat upon a pile of my relatives' coats, I fell victim to my own hype; I got caught up in the excitement that I alone created for myself. This wasn't like, say, Phantom Menace, where I could share the anticipation with others, or feed off the delirium of the world around me. It was personal; entirely subjective. It was the teaser trailer, which I think is just under 60 seconds, so it worked like a bullet: small, fast, and left my brains on the wall.

   Once I'd accomplished seeing the trailer, the next challenge was to actually see the movie. Not at all surprisingly, the first few painful weeks were in "limited release/select city" limbo. At that point, it was already 2000 and it was popping up on various "Best of 1999" lists. It was about the third or fourth week in when some theater I'd never been to a few towns away picked it up. It was a Hoyts Cinema Multiplex, something I'd never been to before or since. They had a giant screen and great sound; I've actually always preferred the sterile, multiplex palaces over the quaint, rundown movie houses -- if for no better reason than the quality of the presentation of the film is generally flawless. And it was. And it was good.

    It was a first showing matinee on a cold, gray Saturday in January. I left the theater dazed - punch-drunk, if you will, but that didn't mean much -- I used to leave most movies feeling that way (especially the ones I was psyched for). It was Independence Day that taught me how to kinda stand back from a highly anticipated movie and determine how I really felt about it, seperated from the initial excitement of just seeing it for the first time. So once I got home, I boldly but cautiously retyped my Top 100 (I used a typewriter in those days) to include Magnolia  at #32. Up until then, I'd always declared that I had no "favorite movie." Every iteration of the list always carried the parenthetical disclaimer: "Not in any particular order." That was, to say, I enjoyed all 100 films equally -- if ever pressed on the subject, I could knock off a Top 10 or a Top 5, but I'd consciously decided to never choose a numero uno. Maybe I really couldn't; after all, there was (and still is) at least one overwhelming flaw in any given movie - no film is perfect: technically, or subjectively. But as I would eventually learn, that fact didn't matter -- at least, not entirely.

   Within a week or two, it started playing at a much more local theater. This allowed me to see it five more times (twice in a single day on one occasion) for a total of six theater viewings before video release. Quentin talks about how he used to view movies: the first time is just to kinda see what it's about, get the plot crap outta the way. The second time is to really see how they did it. I like that - it's been true in a lotta cases, at least for me. But in the case of Magnolia, where there really isn't much plot to "figure out," the setup is more like: see how it's made the first time, then take as many opportunities as possible to enjoy it (I skipped school on at least one occasion to get another viewing in). Starting with the second visit, I would sit in the very front row - something I've never really done (intentionally) before or since, and something that doesn't necessarily work for every movie - and I'll get more into that whenever I get around to actually reviewing this fucking thing.

   I recently read somewhere how, when Ben Affleck was a kid, he'd walk out of a movie thinking of all the ways he could make it better. I can relate to that - I'm sure a lot of us can. And while, like I said, every movie has its problems, there's a handful that I wouldn't do any differently, flaws and all. And while I was watching it the first time, it was clear that Magnolia would be one of those movies. But then there was this moment - an edit, late in the final act, that took me by surprise. Not like a Crying Game, Sixth Sense, Keyser Soze kinda surprise - it was a better kinda surprise. It's the shot from inside the safe at Solomon and Solomon Electronics when Bill Macy is robbing the store. He pulls out stacks of money and a fistfull of some obscured objects. Then, when he's finished, he begins to close the safe, but before the safe door actually connects, we cut away - back to Phil and Tom Cruise at the house. And I was left thinking, "What a waste of a logical transition. How could they not have followed through?" From inside the safe, closing the door would've left us in darkness and the sound would cleverly carry over into the next scene - that's what I would've done. And I would've been wrong. Tom's scene plays out, then we cut back to the safe - back to the precise cut - and the action is completed. It's not so much that the moment is interrupted and then revisited - a lot of movies do that (this one especially). It's that the shot is picked back up only ten or twelve frames before the next cut. (If you've seen it, you know what part I'm talking about. If not, who let you in here?) I let out an audible giggle, almost kind of a gasp. It startled me in a multitude of ways. Quite plainly, it was a move I'd never seen before. Also, it was pretty late in a long movie full of grand gestures and ambitious setups to pull out new tricks. But above all, it best illustrates and fulfills my feelings regarding surprise and expectation. So rarely do I expect greatness or perfection - not just from an overall movie, but for a shot or cut to exceed that - well, it pretty much never happens. Not to say this brief moment is the reason I like the film, but it's certainly one of the most tangible instances. When talking about 2001, Woody Allen said something along the lines of, "It was the first time I realized that the artist was ahead of me." The saying goes, "You don't know what you got til it's gone." Without fear of being intangible, I'll say, you don't know what you want till you get it.

   I read every review available to me: every local newspaper and newscast, every national and international magazine, and eventually with the advantage of internet, every other American States' newspaper, cinematic dissections by college professors, interviews with everyone from P.T. to Patton Oswalt. Collectively, the movie accumulated what I consider to be one the more irritating and damaging phrases in art criticism: "mixed reviews." Without over-analyzing that inane concept, the idea of it is at the root of evils like Rotton Tomatoes: a juggernaut that destroyed film criticism, and maybe even be negatively affecting the medium itself. I never, ever read reviews of movies I haven't seen; I don't want amateur sketches of paintings before I go to the museum. I do, however, enjoy reading reviews of movies I have seen - especially ones I like. Sometimes I learn something, or someone caught a moment that I'd missed. Sometimes it's a conflicting view, which is just as fun, and usually strengthens my own views, because it forces a more tempered articulation and argument, even if only in my own mind. Strange, though - while I never agreed with negative views of Magnolia, I never really agreed with the positive ones either. And maybe that's just it - I can't expect someone else to explain why I like it. No one can, with any movie. But, those negative and positive reviews are a great jumping off point to help explain what it is that I like about it.

   Never, ever have I read so much criticism regarding a film's running time. Every review, good or bad, mentioned it at least once, and always in irritatingly "clever" ways - stuff like "Anderson refuses to write second drafts," or, the dumbest one was something like, "Maybe it could have been shorter without a 60 second shot of Tom Cruise walking down a hallway." There were also a considerable amount of 'length' jokes because, you know, Boogie Nights... I'd always said, some movies should be 5 minutes long, and some should be 18 hours long - why there's any kinda limit is incomprehensible to me. Someone who criticizes a movie for being 3 hours long is either inept in articulating what it is they actually dislike about the film, or they just hate the idea of cinema as a whole. If I'm enjoying a movie, I don't ever want it to end. So, throw that one out.

   The second most scrutinzed element of the movie was, absurdly, its genre. The words and phrases that stand out: "weepy, over-the-top, self indulgent, pretentious, melodramtic." To me, this is calling The Exorcist a bad film for being "too scary," or Caddyshack was simply "too funny." They're not criticisms, but mere observations that lack subjective substance. Magnolia is Melodrama - a genre that is a bit dated, but still viable. Ironically, the first person in line to disagree with me on this would be Paul Thomas Anderson, who, having spent the years leading up to the inception of this movie, was surrounded by cancer and death, and believed he was presenting nothing more than hyper-realism. I, the objective viewer, like anyone else, was not involved in the creative process, and I viewed it as a movie like any other. My point is, apparently, "melodrama" is a curse word; a negative review. The positive reviews - because they were positive - used words like "operatic" and "epic." Again, mere observations. Another thing Quentin once said, "Heavy Metal albums are for Heavy Metal fans." Not everything is for everyone, and not everyone likes operas or melodramas. Also, the "pretentious" thing - I defy anyone to cite any example of great art in any medium that could not be construed as pretentious. So, throw that one out.

   It's important to point out that I care very little as to how people like or dislike this movie, or any movie - that's far from the point of this. But I do find it appropriate to call attention to these, what I consider to be, flimsy points of conflict. Thus and so, the third and flimsiest observation I'm aware of was and is in reference to the film's climax. Love it, hate it, or indifferent towards it, I care not to discredit opinions. Nor am I prepared to address the varying "interpretations" people put upon it. On one end of the negative spectrum, it was brushed off as ambiguous; a deus ex machina culminated from a directionless, 3-hour tear-jerker. On the other negative end, it was thought of as stupid, or overly pointed - a clumsy analogy. Those who liked it was because of that very analogy (especially various religious groups who championed the entire film as a modern parable). In any case, from anything I've read or heard directly from people's mouths, the initial reaction was always to dissect the "point" of the frog sequence. I found this reaction to be maddening - especially at age 16 - because I felt as though I was taking a less cerebral approach. The similtude would be like walking out of Star Wars, and the only thing anyone could talk about was the symbolism of the Death Star blowing up. It was maddening because I was perhaps yet unable to recognize exactly what it was I wanted out of a movie, or why I even liked them in the first place. It wasn't that I couldn't "figure out" the "point" of the ending - I just wasn't consumed by "meaning" like everyone else. I thought it was a cool and clever kinda sci-fi thing to happen in a human drama story. I was startled and exhilarated by the volume and the execution of the visual effects. Put simply, I liked the way it looked and sounded -- that goes for the whole movie, or any movie I like. It's not a less cerebral approach, it's a less literary one. Much like the one abstraction that was Cinema in the silent era, and the way I'm hoping it'll become again. It matters little to me what it's "about," as opposed to what it really just is. I'm sure I use this example quite often: I have no interest in Muhammad Ali, Howard Hughes, or oil prospecting in the early 20th century, yet if done to my liking, I can become engrossed. Much in the same way that there are subjects I do find interesting, like Pearl Harbor, Studio 54, or the Son of Sam murders -- perfect examples of how great subject matter can't save a movie. And yet, in perfect contrast, a feature film depicting Laura Dern walking down dark hallways with her mouth hanging open looking frightened for 3 hours never struck me as interesting subject matter. But, here we are.

   Jess and I attended a screening of Magnolia a couple months ago at the Brattle Theater in Cambridge, Massachusetts. It was the first time I'd seen it in at least five years, and the first time I've seen it in the theater in over a decade. I can't say it was fresh - I know it like a song. I consciously tried to take a more analytical approach in viewing, maybe with the hopes of writing a concise, linear review of the movie. And to reiterate all that I've just written, that's clearly a boring approach, or it's flat-out wrong. I didn't notice anything new - the only thing that was mildly different was me. I'm older and wiser and blah blah blah, but more than that, I've seen a lotta movies since January, 2000, and I haven't seen any new movies (or old ones) that can take its place atop my list. When I was 16, I liked it because it had everything the 16-year-old me wanted in a movie: fast, fluid dollies, slow push-ins, whip cuts, extreme close-ups with shallow focus, slow film speed, 2:35 ratio. Actually, all the same stuff I still like now, in addition to introducing me to more abstract elements I previously hadn't been aware of, like story structure. Pulp Fiction got a lot of attention (and ostracism) for its non-linear structure. But that gimmick is easily identifiable, while Magnolia, though perhaps the most linear movie ever made, had a much less conspicuous device, which may be why people bitch about the length. Through editing, score, and heavy-handed performances, the movie builds and builds and dramatically crescendos into nothing; the game show ends, and the movie stops and starts to build again. Anderson equated the structure to "A Day in the Life," which, when you have that in mind, seems obvious and logical as you watch it. He also said that, apart from Aimee Mann's stuff, he'd been listening to the White Album quite a bit. I never really identified any artistic correlation, but it excited me that there was a tangible link between my favorite movie and my favorite album. Then, when I saw it again recently, I was able to recognize the potential link a little bit. Apart from being grandiose in scope (and running time), it's epic in ideas. Even though every moment is packaged within the same presentation, it's all over the place, while maintaining an evident and uniformed composition. It's the movie to end all movies, the end of a century of filmmaking and a new millennium. Or, on a smaller scale, perhaps a turning point in a singular filmmaker's career. It's made by someone who enjoys making movies, but possibly a bit confined to the traditional limitations of storytelling. There are even several instances throughout the film that explicitly state that there are ideas and feelings and situations that don't function the way a movie is supposed to, simply because they're not believable. And it seems with every subsequent film, he embraces that notion more and more; he uses storylines and conflict and multidimensional characters as an excuse to shoot film. The way I see it, post-Magnolia has been a transitional phase for P.T. Anderson. Negative criticism for Boogie Nights suggested that it was just "ripping off" Altman and Scorsese. Coming from that angle, the harshest thing you could say about There Will Be Blood and The Master is that he's ripping off Paul Thomas Anderson. As far as I'm concerned, he's always been an auteur, except that now there's a lot less room for argument. I anticipate (but more than that, I hope) that his best work is ahead of him - that he'll make the kind of movies that Kubrick wanted to make, and the kind of movies that Lynch and Malick try to make. In other words, the movies I wanna see.

-Paul



 1. Magnolia (1999)
2. Goodfellas (1990)
3. Pulp Fiction (1994)
4. A Clockwork Orange (1971)
5. The Conversation (1974)
6. The Insider (1999)
7. Midnight Cowboy (1969)
8. Dog Day Afternoon (1975)
9. Nashville (1975)
10. Saving Private Ryan (1998)
11. Eraserhead (1978)
12. No Country for Old Men (2007)
13. The Limey (1999)
14. The Fisher King (1991)
15. Forrest Gump (1994)
16. Schindler's List (1993)
17. The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
18. The Wizard of Oz (1939)
19. Back to the Future (1985)
20. Ghostbusters (1984)
21. JFK (1991)
22. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975)
23. The Right Stuff (1983)
24. The Graduate (1967)
25. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
26. The Godfather (1972)
27. American Graffiti (1973)
28. Boogie Nights (1998)
29. Barton Fink (1991)
30. Seven (1995)
31. ...And Justice For All (1979)
32. About Schmidt (2002)
33. Blow Out (1982)
34. Play it Again, Sam (1972)
35. Manhunter (1986)
36. Glengarry Glen Ross (1992)
37. Ed Wood (1994)
38. The Exorcist (1973)
39. Dick Tracy (1990)
40. Philadelphia (1993)
41. Hard Eight (1996)
42. Midnight Run (1988)
43. Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)
44. Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (1987)
45. It's a Wonderful Life (1946)
46. Easy Rider (1969)
47. INLAND EMPIRE (2006)
48. Trainspotting (1996)
49. The Deer Hunter (1978)
50. The Dark Knight Rises (2012)
51. Quiz Show (1994)
52. STAR WARS Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
53. The In-Laws (1979)
54. The Age of Innocence (1993)
55. The French Connection (1971)
56. Unbreakable (2000)
57. Glory (1989)
58. The Thing (1982)
59. Short Cuts (1993)
60. The 'Burbs (1989)
61. Catch-22 (1970)
62. Sleeper (1973)
63. Edward Scissorhands (1990)
64. Raising Arizona (1987)
65. The Fog (1980)
66. Die Hard (1988)
67. Apocalypse Now Redux (2000)
68. The Wizard (1989)
69. A Civil Action (1998)
70. Jacob's Ladder (1990)
71. And the Band Played On (1993)
72. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)
73. Suspiria (1977)
74. The Paper (1994)
75. I Love You to Death (1990)
76. Sneakers (1992)
77. A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge (1985)
78. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
79. Point Break (1991)
80. Titanic (1997)
81. Zodiac (2007)
82. A Serious Man (2009)
83. Lethal Weapon 2 (1989)
84. Blair Witch Project (1999)
85. Bound (1996)
86. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990)
87. Falling Down (1993)
88. After Hours  (1985)
89. Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)
90. Last of the Mohicans (1992)
91. Running Scared (1986)
92. The Devil's Rejects (2005)
93. What About Bob? (1991)
94. Cobra (1986)
95. Jaws (1975)
96. Gremlins 2:The New Batch (1990)
97. Tango and Cash (1989)
98. A History of Violence (2005)
99. Zombie (1979)
100. Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992)

  

Collage

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BENNETT PLACE: SECTION FIFTY SIX

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