Photo Courtesy © DreamWorks Distribution

Tropic Thunder

Directed by: Ben Stiller

Written By: Ben Stiller, Justin Theroux and Etan Cohen (Not to be confused with writer/director Ethan Coen)

Starring: Robert Downey Jr., Jack Black, Jay Baruchel, Brandon T. Jackson, Ben Stiller, Eric Winzenried, Steve Coogan, Bill Hader, Nick Nolte, Matthew McConaughey and Tom Cruise.

As Tropic Thunder opens you feel compelled to laugh uncontrollably. Could it be that you are watching Ben Stiller’s latest comedy masterpiece? Or did you mistakenly walk into Hot Shot’s Quest for the Missing Sheen? Only time will tell, for now I suggest that you prepare yourself for a dangerously funny and uncomfortable excursion into the Vietnamese jungle.

So what can you expect from this highly anticipated comedy? A hilarious first twenty minutes. Then things start to get a bit dumb. Not to say that all of the best lines or funny moments are in the beginning of the film, but it’s the introduction of the characters and the set up for the story that’s worth the price of admission.

The star of the film is Kirk Lazarus played by Robert Downey Jr. His portrayal of Sgt. Osiris is by far one of the funniest characters I have seen in a long time. Sadly, after about half an hour into the movie, things take a bad turn and you find yourself watching another installment from the Hot Shots series, with an absurd kid villain and cheesy war movie spoofs. (And just wait until Tom Cruise starts to dance.) The lack of a concrete story ruined what could have been a very original and funny film. It’s almost like the writers gave up right after the first half. The cast keeps the movie afloat during the second half writer meltdown but unfortunately, bad jokes, a lack of plot and the creepy Tom Cruise force you to wonder what could have been. The movie is not as funny as I expected, but it’s still worth watching. For now just wait until it comes out on DVD and watch it in the comfort of your home.

Juanmarcos@picturesandframesmagazine.com

Photo Courtesy © Magnolia Pictures

Man on Wire

Directed by: James Marsh

Documentaries are not often known for being suspenseful, leaving you on the edge of your seat (unless they’re directed by Errol Morris of course), but James Marsh’s Man on Wire does exactly that. The ‘man on wire’ in question is French tightrope walker Philippe Petit whose 1974 illegal high-wire routine, performed between the World Trade Center’s twin towers, became the stuff of legend. (I, in fact, always thought that it was a legend even though I recall seeing a plaque years ago at the World Trade Center that confirmed the act.)

The documentary tells the story leading up to the death-defying routine: how Petit sat in the dentist’s office one day, as a teenager, and read an article about the building of the WTC and knew immediately that he would one day walk between them; how Petit first walked the Notre Dame Cathedral and then between the Sydney Harbour Bridge, aided by his group of long-suffering friends and girlfriend; how Petit only ever dreamed of being suspended in the air, dancing on a high-wire with nothing to hold him back. The film ends with the climactic WTC act itself.         

Petit himself is interviewed in the documentary, along with his former girlfriend, friends and co-conspirators. Petit is in many ways the perfect subject for a film—he is likeable, intelligent and charming, three things that come in handy when faced with the fact that he is also kind of a selfish, self-involved prick. But what artist isn’t essentially? Time and again, Petit “forced” his friends to participate in his criminal acts not to mention watch him nearly die every single time, and they faced all of it alone. For the WTC act for example, Petit became a national hero and was let off with a mere penance (performing for a NYC crowd) for his crime while his friends were severely punished, one cohort even banned from entering the U.S. ever again.

The documentary however makes no judgments on Petit nor asks us to; it simply revels in the beauty that this man was able to accomplish with his wire walking. I can’t remember the last time I watched scenes so beautiful and awe-inspiring, where my mouth was literally left wide-open for minutes at a time. Man on Wire is really about all that we can accomplish as human beings, and truly encompasses the essence of the great Dana Whitaker line from “Sports Night,” courtesy of Aaron Sorkin: “Look what we can do.”

Lily@picturesandframesmagazine.com

Photo Courtesy © Columbia Pictures

Pineapple Express

Directed by: David Gordon Green

Written by: Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg.

Starring: Seth Rogen, James Franco, Danny McBride, Kevin Corrigan, Craig Robinson, Gary Cole and Rosie Perez.

Over the years, I’ve had a kind of love/hate relationship with writer/director David Gordon Green. Well, it’s more like I love his films and I kind of hate him, really. This is all based on a comment that he made many years ago disparaging the work of fellow independent writer-director Kevin Smith (a man whom I love and defend like a Jewish mother), referring to his movies as "the Special Olympics of film." So you can see why I have a hard time admitting that this guy is clearly a talented filmmaker, regardless of how fantastic George Washington, All the Real Girls and Undertow may actually be.

That said, when the Pineapple Express line-up was initially announced and word got out that he was at the helm, I can’t say that I wasn’t intrigued. What was this self-proclaimed “independent auteur” doing directing a Rogen/Apatow stoner comedy? Maybe he was “broadening his horizons” by removing the obvious stick out of his ass? Whatever his reasons, the experiment worked as I credit the beauty (yes, beauty!) of Pineapple Express entirely to Green. There are shots in the film that feel as if they were lifted straight out of a fantastic 70s action flick á la French Connection, and I honestly can’t say that an Apatow production has ever looked this good. Green turned this comedy into more than just a movie but a film, all by simply following his own aesthetic instincts.

If the look of Pineapple Express is Green’s though, then the film itself is all Seth Rogen and James Franco. Rogen as Dale Denton, a stoned yet endearing process server, and Franco as Saul Silver, his not-entirely-burnt drug dealer, are the best buddy duo since Riggs and Murtaugh. Their chemistry is wonderful to watch, as is the obvious affection that these two actors have for one another. Having previously worked together in the cult TV show “Freaks and Geeks,” Rogen and Franco have an immediate ease with one another, one that allows you to really buy into the quick friendship that is formed between these two unlikely heroes. For me this film really could have been about anything, could have not even had much of a plot, and I would have still enjoyed it—maybe not as much—simply because Rogen and Franco are truly a joy to watch onscreen.

Lily@picturesandframesmagazine.com

Photo Courtesy © Warner Bros. Pictures

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2

Directed by: Sanaa Hamri

Written by: Elizabeth Chandler

Starring: America Ferrera, Alexis Bledel, Amber Tamblyn, Blake Lively, Shohreh Aghdashloo and Blythe Danner.

Although I worked as a bookseller in the children’s department of my local Barnes and Noble all through college and had the habit of reading nearly every best selling series aimed at children or teenagers, somehow the idea of magical jeans that transformed the lives of four teenage girls never quite drew me in. Which is probably what most people thought (and continue to think) when they saw the trailers for Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants in 2005, and its subsequent sequel, released this past month. I myself would have continued to think them silly and meaningless had Bradley Whitford not been featured as America Ferrera’s father in the first film, thus forcing me, the huge Josh Lyman fan that I am, to see Sisterhood in the theaters.

Suffice to say that there is more to these films than just a pair of jeans. It is rare, and this is nothing new, to find young, well-rounded female characters in character-driven movies. Most films that feature all-female casts tend to be stereotypical, with characters that can easily be tossed into a certain category: the prude, the slut, the smart one, the tomboy, etc. What I appreciate most about the Sisterhood films is their complete disregard for this trend—several times during these movies I find myself marveling at the unexpected journey’s that each character takes, the incredibly intelligent and wise dialogue that they speak, and especially, the realistic portrayal of their friendships.

The second Sisterhood starts right after the girls first year of college and, just as in the first film, all of the problems that arise in their lives are true to each of the characters that they represent: Tibby (Amber Tamblyn) is learning how to be in love; Lena (Alexis Bledel) is trying to mend a broken heart; Carmen (America Ferrera) is trying to find herself; and Bridget (Blake Lively) is finally facing her mother’s death. All of their arcs genuinely make sense, something that is so refreshing in a movie targeted at teens, and are touching and subtle, as only a film bearing the names “Sanaa Hamri” and “Denise De Novi” could be.

Hamri’s first film Something New is a favorite of mine. Much like with this film, she brought as a director a grace and genuine sense of what it means to be a woman in today’s world, especially as a minority, which is where Carmen, my favorite Sisterhood character fits in. Denise De Novi produced both Sisterhood films and she is also responsible for my two favorite movies as a young girl, Little Women and Heathers. It is therefore of no surprise that she is behind this film as well, nor is the introduction of Greta, Bridget’s estranged grandmother, played by the wonderful Blythe Danner, or Professor Nasrin, Bridget’s archeology mentor, played by mesmerizing Iranian actress Shohreh Aghdashloo (of House of Sand and Fog fame). When these two women were introduced in the film a huge smile spread across my face as I reveled in the talent, beauty and intelligence that I was watching onscreen. This may sound like every man’s worst “chick-flick” nightmare but for me, it was a full-on feminist revelation.

Lily@picturesandframesmagazine.com

DVD'S:

Photo Courtesy © VanityFair.com

“Mad Men: Season One”

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to join corporate America back in the late 50’s? Well, here’s your chance to find out. I would consider “Mad Men” to be the perfect introduction to one of America’s most interesting and controversial periods. Set at a time when sexual and racial discrimination in the workplace was encouraged, the show pushes the envelope by realistically portraying the struggles of both women and minorities in a changing society.

Winner of one Peabody award, two Golden Globes and nominated for sixteen Emmys, the show was initially passed over by both Showtime and HBO only to be picked up by the basic cable network channel AMC. Originally conceived back in 2000 by Matthew Weiner, famed writer/producer of HBO’s hit series “The Sopranos,” “Mad Men” gives us an all-access pass into the inner workings of a fictional Manhattan advertising agency called Sterling Cooper. Our hero and all around king of the “Mad Men,” Don Draper, (Jon Hamm) is the main focus of the show. Each episode brings us closer to understanding more about his life and the life of those around him.

John Hamm is incredible in the role of Don. His character is a slick mysterious god of advertising whose life would make even the biggest playboys and heartthrobs jealous. This show could easily be mistaken for an Aaron Sorkin creation, with smart and funny characters, a believable story line and a touch of heart and soul in each episode. As the show develops you get to know several very interesting high-powered executives, their secretaries and the wives that make their lives possible. “Mad Men’s” raw honesty and the detail taken to make the 50s come to life are some of best things about the show.

My favorite character so far is Don Draper’s secretary Peggy Olson (Elisabeth Moss). She personifies ambition, hard work and bravery. You could even say that she is the next Don Draper in training. “Mad Men” is shot on movie quality film, which gives it a bigger-than-life feel. Right from the first episode you will feel like you’re a part of Sterling Cooper, just waiting for your chance to join along in the creative meetings, office parties and nighttime rendezvous. Fueled by a great opening theme song and a catchy soundtrack, this show proves to have all of the elements needed for a classic TV show.

Juanmarcos@picturesandframesmagazine.com

An Affair to Remember: 50th Anniversary Edition

An Affair to Remember is one of those classic films I had always heard about but never seen. The story of the film was familiar to me and yes, it was also referenced in the Meg Ryan/Tom Hanks romantic comedy Sleepless in Seattle, but I had never taken the time to see it for myself. In one of those romantic phases where I wanted to watch nothing but old movies, I decided to pick up the new 50^th Anniversary Edition. I discovered that everyone was right. It’s just as wonderful as they say.

For those of you who aren’t aware of it, the film is a romance between Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr. They meet on an ocean liner traveling from Europe to America and fall in love. However, both of them are engaged to be married to others, whom they also depend on financially. They agree to meet again in six months at the top of the Empire State Building, “the nearest thing to heaven” to be found in New York City. She returns to her old career as a singer and he tries his hand at painting. On the fateful day one of them does not show up, for reasons I won’t spoil. Of course, that is not where the story ends at all but let’s just say a wildly romantic time is in store for viewers. The twist that occurs is quite well done, especially, I’m sure, for anyone who doesn’t know the whole story by now.

Director Leo McCarey actually shot An Affair to Remember as a remake of his own 1939 film, Love Affair. I checked that one out as well and found it to be just as charming as An Affair to Remember. Irene Dunne (a frequent co-star of Grant’s) particularly shines in the original. She is perfection, which says a lot considering that Kerr is glorious in the remake.

The disc is full of features, including featurettes about Grant, Kerr, McCarey and the film’s producer, Jerry Wald. There is also an AMC documentary about the goings-on behind the scenes and a commentary by film historian Joseph McBride and singer Marni Nixon. It’s all pretty wonderful, but I have one complaint: Love Affair. It has fallen into the public domain, which means there’s no reason that 20^th Century Fox couldn’t have added it to the package! Grumbling aside, An Affair to Remember has certainly won me over. I may not be reciting the dialogue while watching it alongside Rosie O’Donnell anytime soon, but I will definitely be enjoying it again and again for the rest of my life.

Rick@picturesandframesmagazine.com

“Gossip Girl: Season 1”

As a fan of “The O.C.” the fact that I didn’t jump on the “Gossip Girl” bandwagon from the get-go was a bit of a shock to me. “O.C.” creator Josh Schwartz is the executive producer (not to mention one of the main writers) on “Gossip Girl” and helped to develop the self-proclaimed “sinful” melodrama from the best-selling series of teen fiction books of the same name. I tried watching the pilot episode when it aired last September but was immediately put off by the snarky upper-class world of whiny teenagers that the show portrayed. It is a world that I know very little about and care even less about, but that is also what I initially said about “The O.C.”

With that in mind, and some extra time on my hands, I decided to give “Gossip Girl” a second chance when the first season was recently released on DVD. Once I got past the first episode and my own critical judgments, I was predictably hooked. I found that I couldn’t wait to see where each character led me, and even more to hear what new storylines made the gossip girl blog. The show centers around a group of over-privileged teenagers, led by the recently outcast Serena van der Woodsen (Blake Lively), and their melodramatic forays into sex, drugs and, well, more sex. The cast is rounded out by Blair Waldorf (Leighton Meester), Serena’s best friend and head bitch, Dan Humphrey (Penn Badgley), the scholarship kid from Williamsburg who Serena falls for, Nate Archibald (Chace Crawford), the dreamboat that Blair is in love with, Jenny Humphrey (Taylor Momsen), Dan’s younger social-climbing sister, and finally, Chuck Bass (Ed Westwick) the evil (very effeminate looking) but oddly entertaining man-whore of the crowd.

All of these characters can easily be broken down into their similar “O.C.” counterparts. Serena is very Marissa; Blair is clearly Summer; Dan a hipper version of Seth; and Jenny resembles Marissa’s younger sister Kaitlin. The only two that don’t fit the pattern precisely are the characters of Nate and Chuck. The latter reminds me more of Sarah Michelle Gellar’s Sydney from the 1992 soap “Swans Crossing” than anyone else. But is it really all that strange that this teenage show resembles pretty much every other teenage show made in recent years? Not really. What makes this show so addictive however is just how much the writers clearly relish the melodrama that they are scripting. The characters on “Gossip Girl” do some insane shit and get caught up in even more insane situations. I don’t know how accurate this is to the life of an upper-class New York teenager, but, living in New York myself, I certainly don’t doubt it. Nor do I, embarrassing as it is to admit, really care. I have a predilection toward teenage melodrama (“Degrassi” anyone?) and this show sadly had me at “she slept with her best friend’s boyfriend.”

Lily@picturesandframesmagazine.com

“Heroes: Season 2”

Okay, so the second season of Heroes was not nearly as great as the first. We all know it. However, something you might not realize until you get to see Season 2 all in one chunk is that in fact, it’s not bad. Think of it as a very extended 11-episode postscript to Season 1. Let’s jump right into a bit about the thing people seem to have hated the most about Season 2:

The Newbies. That would be Dana Davis as TV girl and Dania Rodriguez and Shalim Ortiz as the Wonder Twins on the run from the law. Not to mention Kristen Bell as Lightning Lass, a sassy young agent for the Company. (No complaints on that count!) Davis is likeable as Monica Dawson, a young woman supporting her Grandmother and brother in post-Katrina New Orleans. Her power is a sort of muscle memory- she sees some girls doing the Double Dutch and she can do the Double Dutch.  Bruce Lee goes all kung fu on someone in a movie, so can she! Her storyline is pretty weak, though. Especially at the season’s beginning, when all we want to do is find out what has happened to our heroes during the four months that separates the storyline from Season 1 to 2. In fact, that’s probably what people didn’t like about the newcomers. Because truth be told, as annoying as Shalim Ortiz’s Alejandro could be, Rodriguez’s Maya is a fascinating character. Maybe not so much at first, but once the truth about their past is revealed in the season’s best episode, “Four Months Ago,” you realize why she spends most of the series wearing a mask of tragedy. Her power is both awesome and terrible, marked by the trademark lágrimas negras (black tears) and capable of literally killing an entire village. And she has absolutely no control over it. Once you’ve seen that episode it’s hard not to be fascinated with Maya… if not so much Alejandro.

And what of our heroes? Well, Hiro spends more than half of the season in the year 1671 with his beloved hero, the legendary samurai Takezo Kensei. There were complaints that this episode went on for far too long, but once we realize how the character of Kensei (played by Alias co-star David Anders) will continue to be an important factor of the show, we can understand the importance of spending so much time with him in 1671. In a sense, and without spoiling anything for those of you who wait to catch up with the show on DVD, Kensei proves to be the most important character of Season 2.

Claire spends most of the season in a lame-ish teen romance novel, while Matt and Mohinder play Molly Has Two Daddies. Peter wakes up in Ireland remembering nothing and gets involved with a band of criminals, while Nathan has become a drunk who has visions of a deformed Two Face-ish character. Niki drops Micah off with his grandmother and then disappears for the first half of the season… leaving us all to wonder about the fate of D.L. until “Four Months Ago…” Sylar hooks up with Maya and Alejandro for the road trip from hell and Mrs. Petrelli is part of a group being targeted by a mysterious murderer. There are a lot of threads and it takes them a while to come together, but like I said, watching them all in one go on DVD makes the story flow a thousand times better than week after agonizing week of wondering where the creators were taking us. (Much like the second season of Lost) Now I can see this as a bridge to what will hopefully be a stronger Season 3.

Extras-wise, this DVD rocks! There are commentaries for every episode by the show’s creators and cast. There are plentiful deleted scenes, featurettes and even a faux-documentary about Takezo Kensei. Okay, that last one is a bit cheesy. However, the most interesting feature is a 20-minute alternate ending to the season, accompanied by a conversation in which the show’s creators discuss what the original concept of Season 2 was before the writers strike cut the season short by nine episodes. As fascinating as it could have been, in the end, the Season 2 is still more interesting than a lot of television. Re-watching it has definitely increased my excitement for the return of the show on September 22^nd. Give it another chance and you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

Rick@picturesandframesmagazine.com

MUSIC:

Fumbling Towards Ecstasy: The Legacy Edition

It was originally hard for me to believe that it has actually been 15 years since Sarah McLachlan’s classic Fumbling Towards Ecstasy was released. The album is responsible for making McLachlan a name all around the world, featuring hits like “Possession” and “Hold on”—not to mention perennial fan favorite, “Ice cream.” I remember the way that Fumbling completely won me over when I first heard it. (It was my introduction to McLachlan’s music, aside from the track “Into the fire” from her 1991 disc, Solace.) I have to confess that listening to it again with this new edition has been a pleasure. Produced by her constant collaborator, Pierre Marchand, Fumbling still feels like a perfect album to me, certainly worthy of “The Legacy” treatment.

What is disappointing, however, is that there’s not a lot of new stuff to be heard. In fact, chances are that if you are a longtime fan of McLachlan’s you’ll already have everything here. There are three discs in the package—Fumbling Towards Ecstasy itself, The Freedom Sessions (with alternate, less heavily produced versions of the songs and previously available on its own) and a DVD of Fumbling Towards Ecstasy Live. The DVD features the concert as originally seen on home video as well as a quartet of music videos. The only material you may not have seen before is a brief “Inside Look” at the making of the album. It’s nice to have the concert on DVD, but the music videos are mostly pretty awful. I don’t think it was until her Surfacing days that McLachlan’s videos stopped being either cheesy or heavy-handed.

After the release this year of a second set of B-Sides and this fall’s Closer: The Best of Sarah McLachlan, it seems like McLachlan is clearing out the vaults. I hope that during this time she is getting back into a creative groove that will match the work she did at her peak: Solace through Surfacing. Afterglow felt like a huge disappointment to me and frankly, the title of her new single (one of two on Closer), “U want me 2” gives one pause. Regardless of what the future holds, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy will remain a slice of perfection.

Rick@picturesandframesmagazine.com

Lloyd – Lessons In Love

R&B sensation Lloyd dominated airwaves in 2007 with the feel-good singles “You” and “Get It Shawty” from his sophomore album, Street Love. On his third album, Lessons In Love, Lloyd shows that he can not only deliver feel-good singles but that he can deliver love songs too (or baby making music). With the reception of his latest single, “Girls Around the World” featuring Lil’ Wayne, he may be dominating the airwaves again over the next year.

Lessons In Love is a 12-track set of mostly mid-tempo grooves that can easily go from the dance floor to the bedroom. The album features the production talents of Big Reese & Jasper, Eric Hudson, Oak of the Knightwritaz, Polow Da Don, J. Lack, and Adonis “The Phenom.” Lloyd served as one of the executive producers and co-wrote nine songs, thus making this album a statement of where he is creatively, musically, and personally.

Lloyd easily gets heads nodding and people moving on the dance floor with infectious jams like “Girls Around the World,” “I’m Wit It,” and “Touched By An Angel.” He showcases his softer side with ballads like “I Can Change Your Life,” “Treat U Good,” and “Heart Attack.” Lessons In Love also showcases Lloyd’s penchant for slow jams. Listeners may find that the songs are more mature in tone and subject matter (love, lust, sex, commitment, heartbreak) than on earlier releases. Songs like “Sex Education,” “Love Making 101,” “ Party All Over Your Body” and “Year of the Lover” all utilize the “Take You Down” approach (ala Chris Brown) to good effect. Vocally, Lloyd seems to get better with each release. His tenor is smooth, clear, and agile. It slightly recalls that of Michael Jackson. If you didn’t think he could sing before, you will be convinced after listening to songs like “Treat U Good,” “Touched By An Angel,” and “I Can Change Your Life.”

Lessons In Love is a solid follow-up to Street Love. If you’re looking for an album full of up-tempo club bangers, Lessons In Love may not be the Lloyd album for you. But if you’re into mid-tempo grooves with mature themes, then you’ll enjoy this album. Lessons In Love takes a deeper look inside a promising young talent. It also suggests we still have quite a bit to expect from Lloyd in the future.

Markell@picturesandframesmagazine.com

2004 Throwback: Teedra Moses – Complex Simplicity (adapted from a post on my blog entitled Current Loves (of Music That Is), http://buddahdesmond.blogspot.com/2007/08/current-loves-of-music-that-is.html)

Teedra Moses is one of the most underrated singer-songwriters in the game. She's written or co-written songs like Christina Milian's "Dip It Low," Mary J. Blige's "So Lady," Macy Gray's "Finally Made Me Happy" and Trina and Kelly Rowland's "Here We Go" to name a few. She's released a few mixtapes, including The Young Hustla Compilation Volume 1 and Live from The Jungle – The Young Hustla Compilation Volume 2. Her music has also been featured on hit shows like HBO’s Entourage and Logo’s Noah’s Arc. But with all of this to her credit, the mainstream still has yet to catch up with her.

She has a funky, sassy, and soulful style that manages to be both sweet and street (think Cherrelle or Pebbles meets Mary J. Blige). Her music sits somewhere between hip-hop soul and neo-soul. She sings about life (title track and “Last Day”), love (“Take Me,” “For A Lifetime”), family (“I Think Of You”), and relationships (“No More Tears” and “Caught Up”) in a brutally honest way that could make listeners liken her to a songstress with the attitude and flow of a rapper. She holds nothing back lyrically (especially on songs like "You Better Tell Her," and "Backstroke"). Moses is no slouch vocally either. She uses her smooth, sexy, flexible soprano to great affect on songs like "I Think of You," "You'll Never Find (A Better Woman)" and "Outta My Head." With Teedra Moses, you get the soul, the passion, and the conviction without gimmicks or oversinging. With longtime collaborator Poli Paul, Moses has crafted a sound and style that is unique enough to set her apart from her peers but versatile enough to reach a diverse audience.

Having been released in 2004, it's a shame Complex Simplicity failed to get the attention it truly deserved. But no fret here. Word-of-mouth, her songwriting, and live performances are helping to get Teedra Moses where she needs to be. With the next release The Young Lioness upon the horizon, Johnny-come-lately exposure is never a bad thing.

Markell@picturesandframesmagazine.com

BOOKS:

“A Long Essay About Relevant Nothingness: Thoughts Regarding a Quarterlife Crisis & Its Relationship to Reading.” Featuring Quarterlife Crisis, the Unique Challenges of Life in your Twenties by Abby Wilner and Alexandra Robbins, Reality Bites, Dave Egger’s A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and Barack Obama’s Dreams from My Father.

In 2001, Abby Wilner and Alexandra Robbins penned Quarterlife Crisis, the Unique Challenges of Life in your Twenties, a book I’ve put off reading for deep-seated fear that its substance would ultimately strike me as more harrowing than the whole wretched journey of Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d'Urbervilles. The all-wise Wikipedia.com points to these traits as a handful of the too many symptoms of said twentysomething disease: feeling "not good enough" because one can't find a job that is at one's academic, intellectual level; insecurity concerning long-term plans, life goals; insecurity regarding present accomplishments; a sense that everyone is, somehow, doing “better than you.” A pattern emerges with eerie clarity, one that spirals itself around financial uncertainty and an inability to any longer see the concrete value of one’s existence. Who are we at this age, particularly without 401(k)s, without upward mobility, without—dare I say it?—children to look after? Who are we as we walk out of childhood for good and into adulthood?

While I don’t pretend that each twentysomething has a quarterlife crisis with which to grapple--I simply can’t be so naïve as to believe that every young parent has the time to lose his identity--I do see the symptoms manifest in others by way of their writing, most notably for me in Helen Childress’ screenplay for 1994’s Reality Bites and in Dave Egger’s Pulitzer Prize finalist memoir A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Taking the time out as of late to revisit each of these pieces, I recognized that although both these works stand removed from the direct experiences of my much more pop-influenced generation, I still identified directly with the angst of the characters, the sheer terror of the possibility that their longing to be recognized as brilliant would never be fulfilled. After all this time has passed, both works hit such universal chords that my sense of tension in watching the one and reading the other was palpable. The quarterlife crisis, it seems, is here to stay.

The story lines of each piece are quite simple, and it’s that simplicity which allows the pieces to transcend their generational ties. In the first, aspiring documentary filmmaker Lelaina Pierce (Winona Ryder) volleys between two men, longtime slacker bestie Troy Dyer (Ethan Hawke) and self-motivated corporate junkie Michael Grates (Ben Stiller, also acting as director here). Along with roommate Vickie Miner (Janeane Garofalo) and college buddy Sammy Gray (Steve Zahn), the filmmaker tries to carve a life out for herself that’s more than just a series of employment disappointments and failing romantic relationships. Eggers memoir is, in terms of story structure, even more pared down. After losing both his parents to cancer within a two-month period, Eggers takes his younger brother Christopher, nicknamed Toph throughout the book, under his wing, bringing his kid sib up, for better and worse, in his own image.

So much of the brilliance of both Childress’ and Eggers’ work hangs on the threads of their unabashed intellectualism. While Childress’ philosopher without a cause Dyer pontificates about the imminent global energy crisis, Eggers finds himself in sundry, smarty-pants discussions that often lead to intimate interactions that in turn produce quirky outcomes. It’s all a little too precious sometimes, just how quick on their cognitive feet Childress and Eggers are—and yet, it’s undeniably captivating to watch just how graceful they can also be, how with the slightest flourish of their words they can make a small moment seem meaningful.

In Eggers’ memoir as well, there’s a lovely sort of narcissism, that while it adds to Childress’ screenplay it does not as acutely define its characters, and within this narcissism is an even more compelling intelligence, the knowledge of the self as it is in its most primitive, demanding and yet generous, self-assured form. Within all that quarterlife doubt then Eggers shows this: It’s all still intact, every brilliant notion, every piece that made you whole before, all of that remains, even when the environment around you no longer indicates that you are succeeding.

There’s a certain danger to both Reality Bites and A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, however, and it lies in the seduction of each piece to glorify the self as it retreats, with little knowledge of the consequences, farther into its own misguided desires. So here, to ruin two endings, the artists of Reality Bites stick to one another, throwing their cares to the wind while Daddy pays an enormous bill for it while Eggers finds himself in his last pages increasingly engrossed with his own image, what he feels he deserves, what’s finally, finally, finally coming to him. Both endings are almost too isolating to adore because let’s be honest: Lovers might get each other, but they often don’t get much else, and you know what? Reality bites, and most of the time, it keeps at it. That rarely changes at any point. The only solution then is to say: “So reality bites, but it’s also kind of awesome too.” It’s the half-empty, half-full dilemma. Life is each of those everyday, and that, thankfully, also rarely changes at any point.

Then on Eggers side, no one likes a dud who insists on calling his oh-so-enthralled readers “motherfuckers” in his last sentence. Sure, Eggers is lovable. He’s angry and mixed up and efficient and hard-working and a pain in the ass and hysterical and all those wonderful things that you want real people with honest emotions to be, but by the end of the book, it’s just so clear, all those wonderful things don’t, not even remotely make someone likeable. There’s the danger, not that Eggers has to be likable but that he hasn’t made us, through his story, make us like ourselves anymore. We identify with him. We want to be him. He’s telling us, yes, a heartbreaking and genius story, and we’re his. We consummate this shitty mess with him, and then to repay all that, he renders himself, and those of us who identify with him and with his crisis, all-unlikable. So here we are now, in the midst of the quarterlife crisis, and we’re left with these two endings: one that’s semi-delusional and the other that’s simply disheartening.

Were these the only two models of dealing with the disaster, I’d be utterly depressed with the whole affair of the twenties. It’s great to be intellectual and quirky, sure, but what else is there to show for it? Strangely, enough, I found the answer in the least expected place, in the pages of presidential nominee Barack Obama’s debut memoir Dreams from My Father. Written in the year after he graduated from Harvard Law, the memoir traces Obama’s development with identity as a mixed race child growing up with a white family and absent father in the even then relatively tolerant Hawaii. Although the memoir’s focus is primarily on Obama’s relationship in understanding race, culture and family, there certainly is indication of a quarterlife confusion. With great candor and detail, Obama, reflecting on his early, sometimes loafer college days in Los Angeles, conjures up the discontent of a stumbling search for self, one that’s only developed with greater clarity when he begins work as a community organizer in poor, black neighborhoods of Chicago and then finally, after much debate, decides to travel to his father’s homeland in Kenya.

It’s rare when I feel truly drawn along in memoir format, truly inside the living experience of another without reservation, and it’s even more of a rarity for this to happen when I read the work of politicians, who with their natural spin aren’t often sincere in any of their own recollections. The fact that the memoir’s publication predates any of Obama’s political activity likely contributes to the relative ease of his confessions, yet it’s not to be surmised from this that there’s any sentimentalism to the memoir. In fact it’s quite the opposite. Obama’s prose moves along with the detachment of historical narrative, the clarity of taut fiction and the grace of poetry, none of which means to seduce the reader with anything more than the integrity of the oft obfuscated tenderness lying underneath the anecdotes.

Through all his struggles, through all his moments pulled away from the others around him, from even himself at times, Obama manages, unlike Childress and Eggers, to end his novel on a realistic upnote, on something that has value. At the reception of his wedding, Obama speaks with his older brother and the two share in an easy, earned communion. “And for that moment, at least, I felt like the luckiest man alive,” he writes. And, there he speaks volumes: that the happiness is brief, that troubles always come, that life is not so easily solved—and yet—yet that happiness is still a consequence of a quarterlife crisis battled through, that one can be fortunate, that one is not required constantly to seek out that finally, finally, finally moment, that, in fact, that finally, finally, finally moment will fade. There’s such pragmatism in that line, in the admission of that “at least.” Perhaps Wilner and Robbins’ book will point out some panacea for the quarterlife dilemma, but for now, I’m just content with that “at least.” That token of what can be.   

Noralil@picturesandframesmagazine.com

FICTION:

“The Transcriptionist”

By Noralil Ryan-Fores

The desk faces north. Northwest at times, if she decides to move it, as she does when she's sweeping under the couch. It's the only valuable item in the house, she says. Our safety in case of disaster.

"We're never selling it," I remind her.

"With the cost of living rising, we--"

She stops herself. I force her to stop with the look in my eyes, which, when I've seen it reflected in mirrors, is one of impatience and lack of compassion. It's not cruelty, simply unconcealed conceit. She returns to her television program, to a commercial break that announces in post-futuristic flourishes the need for every citizen to purchase an upgraded digital television transmitter within the next two months. I've so far refused her the proclaimed necessity on grounds of financial distress.

I work at this desk, on this solid base of wood on which sits a dilapidated laptop, the letter "L" popped from its keyboard. It was sent to me by my gracious employers as a peace offering, a personal sacrifice, they said, considering that business has been so slow for the last few months. I fail to note the change, the files on my desk as demanding and unrelenting as they've ever been.

Before the Depression, my great-grandfather sat opposite this same desk, poured over the financial records of his bank, calculated with great precision just how much success and failure the numbers would allow him to enjoy and endure. It was all a matter of numbers then, the cleanliness of the universal language of mathematics. "In a failing economy...” as she likes to say, "the numbers serve only as soldiers with bleak faces." I calculate, with great precision, not success, merely the likelihood her poetic trials will enslave me in stupidities. The statistics don't play in my favor.

I shouldn't say I hate my mother. It's unallowable even in the foulest of communities. I should say only that I wish her presence were diminished, that she was muted to moronic statements involving weather patterns.

"You don't ask me questions any longer, I'll have you know. You were such an inquisitive child. We all thought you were capable of brilliance. You still are, you know; if you'd exert yourself properly, get a job more…" she starts.

"You've lost the word?"

"Enlightening."

"I'm enlightened daily."

I hate to tell her she bores me. It would offend her. I say only that in my current state of financial distress I could hardly imagine gifting her the money for a new digital television transmitter. She's happy, I think, to leave my resentment at that.

Nobody loves a whiner. I know that. I don't have to be loved, and if you want to know the truth, I've never been in love either. It's a neither give nor get, although there was that overly-painted pixie brunette at The Bat's Club, the one whose glance of strain and discomfort radiated to the pinks of her fingertips. I don't usually have patience for women like that, women who always seem to try too hard. I held her gaze when she caught mine. I held it almost as defiance, as a way of telling her, "I'm better than you and always will be." She met it equally, fearlessly, and in the second after, I realized that I wanted to bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. I haven't kissed a woman in a while. 

I'm not an attractive man. Never have been. It doesn't bother me often, only taints the purity of my vanity from time to time. If I'm honest with myself, I know that I'm vain, horribly vain, as, I believe, every sane man should be. No one, I truly believe, no one is as interesting as I am. I feel this not as some willy-nilly subjective notion but as an undeniable reality of existence. I'm the man God ought to be.

I came upon this first when I was in the fifth grade and watched a boy punch this little blonde in the face. She'd stolen a snack from him, some such nonsense, and a flirtation by adult standards.

She said, "It's your rent."

"For what?"

 "For my heart."

The preciousness of the moment struck me as arrogant, not its intention as endearing. I laughed heartily at the innocent presumption, at her assuredness that she was worthy of adoration. It came as no shock to me that the boy, too dull to gather the full meaning of her words, nailed her with such force smack in the jaw that she flew backwards onto the ground. No sense of righteous anger for justice blazed through my mind, no sense of disturbance to my then very primitive concept of morality. I merely knew that in that second I wanted nothing more than to jab the bastard with as much force and considerable more malice than he'd dealt her. The whole feat took less than fifteen seconds, my fist meeting his chin, my knee ground into his stomach, and the only agony of it, even withstanding the ineffectual chastisement of our pastel-washed principal, was the look of gratitude sketched on the little blonde's face as her eyes met mine. This, I thought, is the look raised up to divinity, a look of utter thankfulness for deliverance. She appeared suddenly small and contemptible in my eyes, and I found I could never, even when I swallowed my pride to do it later, see her as an equal after.

Noralil@picturesandframesmagazine.com

SPOTLIGHT:

Tim Robbins

October 16^th, 1958

My friend Vince Anderson tells a great Tim Robbins story. In the late 90s Vince worked in an independent video store near Gramercy Park in New York City. A video store that was situated between two Blockbusters and who’s latest release on most days tended to be Weekend at Bernies 2. Well, it just so happened that Tim Robbins and his partner Susan Sarandon lived in the area, and rather than rent movies at the two Blockbuster mega stores which certainly had a broader selection, Robbins supported the indie Bernies video store exclusively. He was such a loyal and frequent customer that they decided to make a “Tim Robbins Wall” in honor of him, which, of course, consisted of a meager few tapes. Robbins himself ended up donating the rest.

This may seem like a strange way to start a spotlight on an actor but when Vince told me this story, I really felt that it captured perfectly the way that I’ve come to view Tim Robbins, actor and activist, over the years. As an activist, Robbins has been outspoken about the war in Iraq, about the media’s role in society, and dozens upon dozens of other social causes and issues. All of this has also seeped through into the roles that he chooses as an actor, not to mention the stories that he tells as a writer and a director. Because of his outspoken views, through the years he has been grouped and often dismissed as a kind of “left-wing nut,” his role as a social activist often outweighing his understated brilliance as an actor.

Tim Robbins was born in West Covina, California on October 16^th, 1958. Although he was born in California he was raised in New York City’s Greenwich Village by his parents, folk singer Gil Robbins (The Highwaymen) and actress Mary Robbins. Robbins went on to graduate with honors from UCLA with a Drama degree and soon was seen on TV shows such as “St. Elsewhere,” “Hill Street Blues” and “Moonlighting.” The roles on these shows were minor, often limited to one episode, but they led to small but memorable roles in films such as The Sure Thing, Fraternity Vacation (the first time I remember seeing him), Top Gun, Howard the Duck and Five Corners, the latter featured him in a co-starring role alongside Jodie Foster. But it wasn’t till 1988’s Bull Durham that Tim Robbins officially became a household name.

Bull Durham is one of my all-time favorite movies, and, as it turns out, it is also Robbins’ favorite movie. To this day he cites it as such for many reasons—it launched his career; it dealt with baseball, which, next to hockey, is one of his life-long passions (he is a die-hard Rangers and Mets fan); and it introduced him to the woman whom he would fall in love and have children with, Susan Sarandon. In Bull Durham Robbins plays Ebby Calvin 'Nuke' LaLoosh, an up-and-coming player with a lightning-bolt arm but a “5 cent head.” Laloosh is all spitfire and hormones, and to say that Robbins embodies the role is a real understatement. He brings such joy and humor to Laloosh, but at the same time he also inhabits him with great sensitivity and self-awareness, turning what should be a throwaway, second-string asshole into a first-rate rival for Kevin Costner’s leading man, Crash Davis.

The spirit of joy and youth that Robbins brings to Laloosh in Bull Durham is one that he often carries with him. You can see it in Ed Walters, his soft-spoken idiot savant in the romantic forgotten gem I.Q. You can see it in Norville Barnes, his endearing inventor in The Coen Bros. The Hudsucker Proxy. And you can clearly see that joyful innocence in his most famous role, that of Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption. Shawshank is the film that Robbins is most notable for and yet his turn as Andy Dufresne was not nominated for an Academy Award that year. This may come as a shock to some but considering the fact that Robbins was overlooked in 1992 in The Player, and then overlooked again the next year with Short Cuts, calling Tim Robbins one of the most underappreciated actors of his generation certainly seems fitting.

As a director, however, Robbins has been critically acclaimed and appreciated. His directorial debut, 1992’s Bob Roberts, is an incredible feat even by today’s standards. Robbins wrote, directed, acted and co-wrote, with the help of his brother David, the score and songs featured in the film. The tale of Bob Roberts, crude conservative folk singer turned politician is one that was eerily omniscient in the election year that it was released, but it somehow seems just as relevant in 2008. The fact that Bob Roberts did not sweep the Academy Awards that year is still a mystery to me.

Robbins was however nominated for an Oscar in 1995 as a writer and director for his second film Dead Man Walking. Dead Man Walking was a project that took many years for Robbins to develop. It is based on Sister Helen Prejean’s book about her relationship with death row inmate Matthew Poncelet and Susan Sarandon and Sean Penn, respectively, turn in unforgettable performances in the two roles. The film has been seen as a clear indictment of the death penalty, but for me, it is far more about the complexity of human life and death and the unexplainable intimacy of relationships than about a certain political cause. Much like with Bob Roberts, Dead Man Walking can be seen one way initially, but after several viewings, its multifaceted themes begin to unravel.

Robbins next project as a writer-director, 1999’s Cradle Will Rock, is yet another overlooked gem in Robbins film career. The movie tells the true story of how Orson Welles, along with Diego Rivera, Nelson Rockefeller and William Randolph Hearst, tried to stage a pro-union musical during the Great Depression. The film is powerful and inspiring, and is exactly the kind of material that you would expect Robbins to be involved with. It was critically acclaimed but I find that it is, unfortunately, one of many films of Robbins career that only film buffs often seem to know about.

          As is the case with Tim Robbins inspired performances in independent films such as Code 46, The Secret Life of Words, and Catch a Fire. All of these roles allow Robbins to shine in an entirely new way as he demonstrates a stillness and emotional restraint that is equal parts sad, romantic and inspiring. Robbins has the ability to express what the character is feeling only with his eyes, which often flare with the overwhelming emotion of the scene. One need only look to his performance in Mystic River, the only acting Oscar he has received to date, to witness exactly what Robbins is capable of. There is a terrifying sadness that runs through his Dave Boyle that is truly frightening to watch. Whenever Robbins is onscreen in the film I find myself torn between turning away at the pain he is so deftly displaying, and never allowing my eyes to leave his face.

          It is this face that I often find myself thinking of when I think of Tim Robbins. How sincere, sensitive and manly this 6’4 giant seems to be whenever the camera is pointed on him, and how fortunate we are when he points his camera at others. His latest film, Neil Burger’s The Lucky Ones, which centers on three Iraq soldiers, will be released later this month and I can say with near-absolute certainty that Robbins performance will most likely be overlooked. It seems to be the fate of a man whose contributions to cinema and life are far too genuine and far too grand to ever really be seen by the Hollywood eye, in this lifetime at least.

Lily@picturesandframesmagazine.com

Select Tim Robbins Filmography

City of Ember (2008)

The Lucky Ones (2008)

Catch a Fire (2006)

Zathura: A Space Adventure (2005)

Embedded Live (2005) (V)

The Secret Life of Words (2005)

War of the Worlds (2005)

Code 46 (2003)

Mystic River (2003)

High Fidelity (2000)

Cradle Will Rock (1999) (writer/director)

Arlington Road (1999)

Nothing to Lose (1997)

Dead Man Walking (1995) (writer/director)

I.Q. (1994)

Prêt-à-Porter (1994)

The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

The Hudsucker Proxy (1994)

Short Cuts (1993)

Bob Roberts (1992)

The Player (1992)

Jungle Fever (1991)

Jacob's Ladder (1990)

Tapeheads (1988)

Bull Durham (1988)

Five Corners (1987)

Howard the Duck (1986)

Top Gun (1986)

Fraternity Vacation (1985)

The Sure Thing (1985)