FotM: Adam's vote goes to . . .

Look, I still don’t like the idea of 10 nominees for best picture. I never have, and probably never will. That said, choosing who I would vote for if I were a member of the Academy was surprisingly simple.

Currently, I’ve seen 7 out of the 10 nominees. There are at least 4 or 5 pretty good films in the bunch, with 2 that I’d say come the closest to being “great.” I’ll come right back to that . . .

I guess that you could say I’m an intellectual sort when it comes to films. I like films that try to tackle big themes, cover new ground, and communicate that elusive something. While I love being entertained, I don’t consider the having of a good time to be the ultimate goal of a film, or the chief sign of its quality. There have been a number of films (Fight Club, anyone?) I’ve seen that I didn’t necessarily enjoy that I consider to be examples of true craftsmanship, and I’m glad I watched them. Now, I’m certainly not suggesting that my way of looking at films is the “right” way of doing it, and that other approaches are wrong.

That would be stupid.

My point is this. I don’t normally go for the popular choice. When people were proclaiming The Dark Knight the single greatest thing since the dot got put before the com, I was one of the few pointing out what I thought were flaws. When people went nuts over Star Trek, I . . . well, you remember.

So, having said all of that, making my choice for what I would vote for as the Best Picture of 2009 was surprisingly simple.

Avatar.

Nothing I saw in 2009 equals the experience I had with James Cameron’s juggernaut. The only other film that I considered for this slot was Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds, but, as great as IB is, (and it is one of the best films an already venerable filmmaker has ever made) I don’t think that anything released between 01/01/2009 and 12/31/2009 comes close to the monumental achievement that is Avatar.

I’m astounded at the fact that almost everything I saw at key points on the screen was created by a computer. Watching it for the first time, I was skeptical of the idea that the incredibly lush world of Pandora was digitally generated. I mean, come on, obviously those blue guys were fake, but what about that tree? The water in the lake? The wind from the helicopter blades moving through the grass? Surely that had to have been real. No computer can make something look that good, and that authentic. There’s no way it could have been left up to processors and microchips.

But it was, and, while it was beautiful, there was even so much more to it than that.
See, Avatar is the kind of thing that George Lucas wanted to make with his Star Wars prequel trilogy. What he didn’t seem to realize is that mere visual trickery isn’t enough to make an audience invest in something. Our brains may enjoy the sight of a superbly created digital world, but our hearts want something to hang their proverbial hats on. I was sold on this thing, man. I wanted to see the Na’Vi triumph over the invading human scum, and I wanted Jake and Neytiri to end up together so desperately.

What Cameron’s done here is truly remarkable. He didn’t just demonstrate a mastery of CGI that no one to date has equaled. He made a film in which, even as your mind is marveling at what it’s watching, you partially (even totally) forget that what you’re seeing is created by a computer. Your heart simply sees a man and a woman standing side by side in a gorgeous place that’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

So, with respect to Quentin Tarantino & Kathryn Bigelow, on Sunday night, Best Picture (and for my money, Best Director) should go to James Cameron for Avatar.

FotM: So, ya coming?

With each passing year, we travel farther and farther away from that time in our life when “grown-up” was an evil word we could put off thinking about, each moment was filled with promise, and stories had an extra tangible quality to them as though they might leap out to snatch us away.

Christmas has a unique power over many of us. It’s the one time each year when we just might have a communal moment with all of the Christmases of our other years. I remember the year I got a guitar for Christmas, and the year I selfishly thought I hadn’t gotten enough gifts. In a way, they all stack up, and on this one special day, we have a chance to see them all dangling in front of us again.

Five years ago, I was a very different person. I was a first-year college student navigating through the “big switch” from one institution to a markedly different animal. If only I’d known how strange the transition from life as a college student to life as a graduate would be. . . I might have had a few words for myself.

In 2004, I remember first seeing an advertisement for The Polar Express. I’d never read the famous book the film would be based on, but I had an inkling that it’d be one I wanted to see. So, before Christmas rolled around that year, I took my 12-year old brother and set out to see the film.

The first theater we went to had sold out, so we, resolute and undeterred, set out to find another. On our second attempt, we were successful, and we sat down and watched the film together in a crowded theater.

The Polar Express is a ground-breaking film that marked the first time that “performance capture” had been used to create an entire animated feature film. Previously, the technique of putting sensors on an actor’s body to put their movements into a computer for digital recreation had been used to a lesser degree by filmmakers like Peter Jackson and George Lucas. However, this film marks one of the first times time that performance capture was used to this degree, allowing Tom Hanks to play 5 different characters with a remarkable degree of realism.

Additionally, The Polar Express marks Robert Zemeckis’ first experiment with performance capture, an experience that has proved to be a major turning point for him as an artist. Since 2004, Zemeckis has made two other films, Beowulf and A Christmas Carol, both of which are animated films using performance capture.

With all this talk of matters of technicality and precedent, I don’t wish to make The Polar Express sound like it’s a history lesson of a film. It’s not.

The Polar Express is a magical movie, the kind that makes your heart swell, puts a big smile on your face, and makes you wish that you could be a child again. For a symbol, the story uses kids in that strange in-between of knowing that the world is bigger and more complicated than they’d imagined but wanting things to stay simple to tell a tale of faith. Not religious faith, or the belief that a specialized way of living is somehow more correct or appropriate than another, but the kind of faith that encourages, uplifts, and reminds one to look for the magic present in the everyday.

And it’s wonderfully exciting. The journey to the North Pole is one filled with danger and excitement. I still remember sitting in the theater as the train careened like a roller coaster, feeling like I was, in some weird way, on it myself. The best stuff in the movie, for my money, takes place when they get to their destination. This version of the North Pole is highly industrial, a corporation, if you will, with Santa Claus as a benevolent version of Bill Gates, albeit one without a voice like Kermit the Frog’s. The elves have terrific personalities, and the scene where the kids listen in on the decision process as to what exactly constitutes a spot on the “naughty” list just might be my favorite.

As I look back over the five years that have passed since that day, a lot has changed. I’ve grown older. My life is very different in certain ways and exactly the same in others. But every year, around Christmas, I put on The Polar Express and am reminded of the magnificent years of youth and the promise present in a moment. In this time of uncertainty and a markedly existential angst, a movie about a train bound for the top of the world on Christmas Eve goes a long way.

FotM: It wasn't all that long ago, but it feels far, far away

I don't like to use the words "all time" very often when I'm talking about the movies. Although film as an art form hasn't been around for an awfully long time, there have been hundreds of thousands of movies that have been made since the late 1800's. This is a fact that's all too easy to forget in the rush to anoint something as one of the best such-and-suches of all time.

That said, I'm going to break with my usual practice and use those very words to describe the film from 1999 that I chose to feature.

Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace was, I believe, the most anticipated motion picture of all time. It would be ludicrous for me to go back and tell you the reasons for the success of the original trilogy of Star Wars films for the very simple reason that, if you are indeed a sentient being and reading this right now, you have almost assuredly seen them and could tell me just as well as I could tell you.

I remember hearing about the proposed prequel trilogy back in 1993/1994. Back then, the common thought was that the first film would be released in 1997, which seemed like an eternity to an 8 or 9 year old kid. 1997 actually ended up being the year that the Special Edition trilogy made its debut, which meant that we'd have to wait even LONGER to see the films. No matter. Our enthusiasm was undiminished.

Finally, we were given a release date: May 19, 1999. We were thrilled. At long last, we'd get the chance to see the story before the story and have the chance to understand how Darth Vader came to be. Seeing it opening night seemed out of the question, because everyone and their brother would most definitely already have the drop on us, so we decided that opening weekend would probably be the best we could hope for. I remember actually saying a prayer to ask God if there was any possible way he might help us get tickets for opening night.

You can only imagine our jubilation when a friend of ours scored 6 tickets. I remember being stunned, almost in shock that I would actually be there on OPENING NIGHT. Such a thought seemed to be one of the most wonderful that I could have ever conceived.

Seeing the movie with a theaterful of the Brethren was a blast. I'll never forget our collective enthusiasm, cheering as various characters were introduced for the "first" time. I tell you, there were things in this film that we'd only dreamed of. We were able to see the Jedi in action for the first time, and, let me tell you, those guys were pretty incredible! It might be hard to imagine for younger people who've grown up on hordes of Jedi fighting with the collective hum of dozens of lightsabers filling the air that there was actually a time when the extent of what we'd ever seen of a Jedi in action was Luke dispatching the minions of Jabba the Hutt in Return of the Jedi, but it's true. I will also remember forever the awe that I felt when I saw things like the entry into the Galactic Senate for the first time.

That's one of the things I miss the most from those days. In 1999, with films like The Phantom Menace and The Matrix, visual effects were just beginning to explode into their modern-day position of dominance. Then, it was still possible to go into the theater and see something that made your jaw drop, your scalp tingle, and made you think, "Wow, I've NEVER seen anything like THAT before!" There was a special sense of wonderment that I remember from those days that I don't really think is around much anymore. Now, films are full of sound and fury that signifies nothing. They know the words, but have no idea how the tune goes. I might sound old for saying this, but I miss the good old days.

Now, back to 5/19/99 . . .

After leaving the theater at the end of the credits, we found that most of the audience was out in front of the theater, talking excitedly about what they'd just seen. I remember feeling a twinge of disappointment, because, while I'd really liked the film, it wasn't quite what I'd thought it was going to be.

But how could it have been? I'd been building it up in my mind for years and there comes a point when it's nigh impossible to fulfill someone's expectations in a situation like that. Besides, I really had liked the film, and saw it twice more in the theater (a personal record) before buying it the first day it was available.

As time passed, I went to the same theater with the same group of people twice more on May 16, 2002 and May 19, 2005 to see the next two installments of the trilogy. I remember the terrible sense of disappointment that I felt after seeing Attack of the Clones, realizing that, for the first time, I felt that George Lucas had really missed the mark. I remember the redemptive sense of exhilaration that I felt after seeing Revenge of the Sith and feeling that he'd not only ended it, but ended it right.

Now, there is no doubt in my mind that there are many of you who could say all kinds of things about how and why Lucas chose to make his second Star Wars trilogy the way that he did. I have a number of things to say about that myself, but that's a subject for another article.

Does The Phantom Menace hold up as well as it could 10 years later? No, I don't think it does. However, I don't want to use this platform to major on what doesn't work with the film.

We'll talk about that some other time.

A spellbound 14 year old boy sitting in a dark theater in Irvine thought that it was pretty awesome.