Zero Dark Thirty

Ticked another Best Picture nominee off my list today.  Kathryn Bigelow's, long-awaited by me, Zero Dark Thirty.

Before I get to my review, however, here's a play-by-play of the equally entertaining pre-show.

(Scroll past asterisks if you just can't wait for it.)

   ********************************************************************

I, par for my reputation, stood in the shortest but slowest line for my ticket and popcorn.  Salted my purchase, hoarded a  sapling's worth of napkins and entered Theater Two, only to discover I had my pick of the completely uninhabited seats.  I chose a non-sticky one on the aisle about mid-deep and settled in.  

Shortly after, I hear two or three younger male voices settle in towards the back.  Five minutes later, hear an usher's voice asking to review ticket stubs.

He peruses the first stub, "Are you at least seventeen?"  I hear a, "No," answered back.  (Since when did teenagers lose their ability to lie?)  "You can't be in here without an adult if you're under the age of seventeen."  This conversation repeats itself twice more and I find myself alone again.  (Strangely enough, I had pulled my ticket as well, but nobody bothered checking it.  Or, my age for that matter.  Hmph!) 

Well, the act of pulling out my stub out led me to realize that the movie was to start at 2:40, not 2:20.  Geezo Petes!  I ventured to the lobby restroom to kill a little time and empty up for the 2.5 hour trip that has now become a 2.83 hour one.  Reentered Theater Two to discover the company of about eight or nine more patrons.

The most vocal of which had parked themselves across the aisle from where I'd left my coat.  A duo of eighty-ish white haired birdies, LOUDLY conversing about who has the better ear doctor.  "No, Gladys.  I go to the one on Inskster and Northwestern.  Don't you know EVERYBODY goes to that one!"  

Gladys: "Well, I have an appointment Wednesday at Dr. Shaeffer's."  

Gladys's friend:  "Everybody goes to my doctor.  My daughter had the Meniere's Disease. She's deaf now in one ear. Completely deaf!  And, Bob wears a hearing aid.  My mother did too.  Not that it runs in the family..."

Gladys: "Well, it DOES run in your family.  You don't hear well either!  So, what does your daughter do with her ear.  Wear a hearing aid?"

Gladys's friend: "No, Gladys!  She is completely deaf!  A hearing aid won't fix that.  You can't fix deaf.  And, YOU have hearing problems too!"

Gladys: "Well, we'll see about that on Wednesday."  (I then silently awarded the prize for Best Ear Doctor to neither's.)

Through the previews Gladys's friend delighted in the appearance of Robert Downey Jr., "Ooh. The Iron Man!"  As the feature begins, "Now, here we go!  This is history, Gladys!  You pay good attention!"  When the film snapped five minutes into it, Gladys got anxious. "What do we do?"  Her friend assured her, "Just sit here.  We'll let the people who got up figure it out.  The worst that will happen is they refund our money."  A mere 60 seconds passed before the movie was up and running again. 

I quickly absorbed into the story and nearly forgot Gladys's presence... but, was reminded once again during a water-boarding scene. "This is true, Gladys!  This really happened! This is what that Dick Cheney was all into..."  Sigh.

Now, onto what you all clicked this link to really read:  My review.

   ********************************************************************

I had read Mark Owen's No Easy Day last year immediately following its release.  This left me with an insatiable appetite to see the story set to film.

"Mark Owen" being the alias of one of the Seal Team Six members who penned the account of his early military life, leading into his career as a Navy Seal and ultimately into a play-by-play of the Bin Laden assassination. His rigorous training, camaraderie with military brothers, and the gut-wrenching danger of his many famous missions, controversially, all laid out to bare in this unique and riveting memoir.

I couldn't wait to see what Hollywood would do with an action-packed Seal-perspective version of the mission.  

But, in Owen's story there is a female CIA officer.  The one whose tireless work unearthed Public Enemy #1's location.  The one whose entire career was focused solely on this mission.  As I read, I thought to myself, "If they ever make No Easy Day into a movie, boy are they going to glam up this role and give it the Angelina Jolie treatment!"

But, they didn't make the No Easy Day movie.  Enter Kathryn Bigleow, Jessica Chastain and Zero Dark Thirty.  

There's nothing modern Hollywood loves more than a tough-as-nails heroine with a potty mouth that holds its own against any barking man in uniform. They took this character and ran with it.  But, this character isn't necessarily the one whose day-to-day work life you're dying to be a fly on the wall of.

The film wades through two full hours of CIA investigating and red tape before the final half hour of the actual mission.  Yes, this is the female lead's story.  She's not the one climbing mountains, offing bad guys in their sleep and zip-lining out of helicopters day into night, night into day.  She sits at a computer.  She has conference meetings.  She makes phone calls and performs interviews.  As far as what her story has to offer, Bigelow did it well.

By the time fictionalized Seals finally grace the screen, maybe thirty minutes before the movie's end, they come off almost puppy-like.  One Golden Retriever, one Shepherd, one Pit Bull, you name it.  All breeds represented.  Nothing but muscle and machine.  Big, brawny dummies.  Thick as boards, cocky and  licensed to kill.

The details of the military side of the mission and its preparations were just breezed past without care or explanation.  I wanted to start shouting out extra information I learned from the book to help the audience better understand.  "They built an entire replica of the compound for training! Complete with doors that swung in or out the right way", "That's just the perimeter gate they're at!  There's more door explosions to come", "That team was supposed to enter from the roof!",  "That was the courier they just shot!", "They thought the women would be wearing suicide vests. That's why they said that!",  "Nope!  That's just the brother!  Just you wait!", "They pulled DNA from the body too, you know.  Not just digital pics!", etc., etc., etc.

But, alas, Hollywood never did cherish its military as much as it did its spies.

I still think No Easy Day would have been the more interesting take on the assassination.  But, now that this version is out---and has even stolen bits of the book's dialogue---I doubt we'll see that day come.

Kathryn Bigelow is a wonderful director. The film is well-acted (at times, over-acted.)  And, the cinematography brilliantly finds beauty in otherwise unbeautiful locations.  

Is it worthy of its nominations?  Sure.  But, if you're anything like me, you may want to see Zero Dark Thirty first and then read Mark Owen's story to fill in the missing pieces.  You'll save yourself some frustration that way.

As for Gladys and her friend?  I can't tell you what they thought.  The ladies were finally stone silent by the time the credits rolled.  This could be a sign of awe.  Or, confusion.  Or, simply the midst of an elderly person's afternoon nap.

Les Miserables

I had the pleasure of enjoying the new film version of Les Miserables this evening.  I first fell in love with its music during preparations for a high school Broadway-themed choir concert.  After years of dormancy, that stirring of amore visited my heart this evening, once more, and continued to stir... up through the chest, squeezing the larynx, all the way into my skull.  With nowhere left to journey, all of that deep affection proceeded to pour out of my eyeballs.  For hours.  In public!  

I'm not sure how I maintained hydration during this multiple-hour sobbing jag.  Maybe the extra salty popcorn played its part somehow.  Other characters in my lovefest were my fellow theater patrons, sobbing and nose-honking right along side of me.  In front and behind.  (This excludes the man in the Adidas track pants sitting closest to my left; apparently dragged there by his wife and whom disturbingly escaped to the bathroom multiple times. I won't judge though.  Maybe he just needed to cry in private?)

If the audience were my fellow characters, this leaves the stars of my lovefest to be the stars of the amazing film.  Hugh Jackman (Talent and voice beyond unreal!)  Anne Hathaway (Broke my heart!)  Russell Crowe (Hate that character, so you're doing your job!)  Samantha Barks (Every girl's been an Eponine at least once in her life. Thanks for the memories!)  Eddie Redmayne as Marius (So noble and sweet.)  Amanda Seyfried (Who knew Karen from Mean Girls was a flawless soprano?)  Sasha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter as the nasty Master and Madame of the House (Mary and Joseph won't be staying at your inn!)  And, Daniel Huttlestone as Gavroche (Breaking whatever puny parts of my heart were left after Annie Hathaway got through with it!)

All my praise and all of the film and its makers' Oscar-worthiness aside, this would not be a proper blog post if I didn't mention of few slight observations.

• The French, in musical form, sound a heck of alot like Cockney Brits.
• Love-at-first-sight seems somehow believable when pronounced in song.  (Silly, but more believable in Les Mis, than in, say... West Side Story. Gag, Maria.  You hussy!)
• After witnessing Sasha Baron Cohen's brilliant performance as Thenardiers, I will be deeply disappointed if he ever goes back to playing any of his guerrilla comedy characters.  I don't care if you're offered one billion dollars for a Borat sequel, Mr. Cohen!  We've now seen what you can do.  Take that offer and squash it in your meat grinder!  If not, I vow a plague on both you houses.  (Yes, both.  Helena, that means you, too.  I now appoint you Sasha's keeper!)
• Speaking of Helena... I applaud her subtle staccato pronouncing of the lyric, "sh*t."  In every other performance I'd ever heard of "Master of the House", the Madame Thenardiers always over-emphasises the "sh*t".  As if to say, "SH*T!  Do you hear me in the back row?  I said sh*t and I said it loud.  I sang it even!  How often do you get to sing 'sh*t' on stage? ♫SH*T♫!!!"  Thanks for your restraint Ms. Carter.
• Speaking once again of Helena Bonham Carter... talk about perfect casting!  If anyone else had been chosen for the role, I would have thrown pie at the screen.
• Hugh Jackman's tongue looks to be especially slippery.  Seriously!  With all of those tight shots and wide-mouthed singing I observed not one taste bud.  I knew he couldn't possibly be human!
• SPOILER ALERT: Was that sound effect really necessary in Russell Crowe's final scene?  Those who've already seen it... you know what I'm talking about.
• Dear Fantine, who knew a bad last haircut in life would be deemed permanent for all of eternity.  Here's to hoping hair grows much faster in the afterlife!
• My next charitable donation will be floss and Whitestrips to the nation of France.
• I feel I've learned more about French history in this three-hour period of fiction than in years of schooling.  Boy, I hope this knowledge is historically accurate or I'm gonna look like an absolute dummy next round of Trivial Pursuit.
• I've never in my life used more restraint to not burst out singing in song.  Maybe in twenty years there will be "bouncing ball" sing-along midnight showings of the flick.  Then again, these brilliant performances do not need an untrained audience drowning them out. 

On this page I will now write my last confession:  My tear ducts are officially in working order.  But, I guess you've probably gathered that by now. 

(P.S. If you're looking for me this Oscar night, I'll be in front of the tube---extra-salty popcorn in bowl---cheering on the stars of my lovefest.)

Lincoln

I just returned from seeing the critically lauded new biopic about our sweet sixteenth (president, that is) and am riding the goose-pimply emotional swell of seeing and hearing a good story told well.

This is not a movie review, however... although the pic is sure to see Academy nominations for Best Picture, Director, Screenplay, Actor (Daniel Day-Lewis), Actress (Sally Field), Supporting Actor (Tommy Lee Jones) and maybe even a long shot Supporting Actor nom for the very entertaining James Spader.  Not to mention, Best Costuming and a slew of technical nods, as well.  But, this is not a review!  (Although, I must also note: At 180 minutes, empty your bladders before or during the previews, because there are no boring lulls in the film to designate as a potty break.)

No, this blog entry is designated to that 10-15 minute adjustment it took for me to adapt to the fact that Abraham Lincoln was appearing before me in motion and speaking.

You'll hear Daniel Day-Lewis's voice speaking as Lincoln moments before the camera pans to his wonderful and accurately made-up face.  And, it's quite the unexpected jolt!  I don't know how the actor chose the voice he decided to use to represent our 16th president, but it's definitely not as booming and authoritative as I obviously must have expected.

Then he moved.  Which is also quite a startle.  For all of our lives, we've seen Abraham Lincoln as still life.  Faded and photographed, sketched, oil-painted, crumpled up on our five dollar bills and frozen in marble for all of eternity at the foot of our capital's reflecting pool.

But, for the first time in our lifetime, he moves.  He ambles rigidly, clumsily, oddly moose-like.  He folds his stature practically in half and creakily crawls across the floor.

I watched, amazed.  I'm not sure what I had expected to see.  I'm not sure if Day-Lewis's choices in tone and cadence were artistic choices or historical fact.

Then it dawned on me!  My generation's ideals of this president's motion, voice and natural demeanor weren't based on film or recordings... the technology didn't exist in his time.  We're familiar with his face and stature from the aforementioned photographs and artwork we've familiarized ourselves with over time.  We're comfortable and confident in the depiction of his looks.

But, the only reference we've had to his speech and his movement, up until the release of this marvelous film came in the form of a Disney animatronic.

Ha, yes!  Mystery solved!  Hopefully, you may now spare yourselves the jolt at the theater.  Besides, it only took about 15 minutes for the unfamiliarity to pass.  Go see Lincoln, cheer on the 13th Amendment and enjoy!