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I just wanted my groceries; To Oscar or not to Oscar
I just wanted to pay for my groceries.
I was in line behind a woman with a hand-carry basket. We were both behind a family that looked vaguely Iranian? Iraqi? Middle Eastern. Their groceries were all bagged in the cart ready to go, when someone noticed a mistake on the receipt. The cashier took it back, examined it. Stared at it for a full five minutes with intense concentration, like she was reading a Twilight novel. She was young, blond, a bit paunchy. Had the exact facial bone structure of a pug dog.
Then I got to see the item in question. A fruit roll-up. I wish I were kidding. A fucking FRUIT ROLL-UP. Unless it rang up for $50 or something, there's just no reason for this. I think they actually bought five of them (because what kind of Commies buy just one fruit roll-up?), but still. The savings that they were pushing for couldn't have been that great.
Then someone had to be sent off to the aisle to find the correct price. Then the transaction had to be rectified. Blondie started fumbling with keys, scanning the candy. Scanned it again. Studied the register screen intensely. Scanned it again. I glared at her (and the family) with the hate of a million red hot supernovas, which probably didn't help anyone but it beat the hell out of doing NOTHING.
Meanwhile the man behind me had moved to the next line over. Someone with less patience than me? I should have proposed. However, the cashier there tried to pick up one of those gallon jugs of the unnatural lime-green juice drink; it slipped out of his hands and exploded all over the floor, creating a small unnaturally lime-green lake. "Boy, there's just no right answer here, is there?" the line jumper said to me. "Nope, we can't win," I agreed.
I gave Blondie another five minutes of apparently fruitless (pun sort of intended) scanning and keying before fleeing to another lane. Got everything rung up and passed her again on my way out, where the family was still standing and I heard Blondie say, "Okay. I'm just going to start all over again."
I just wanted to pay for my groceries.
~*~
Tery is hell-bent on seeing as many likely Oscar nominees as possible before the big event (she is every year, however, this year has an extra sense of urgency since she decided to throw a party and hold a contest to vote for the winners). As for me, I can't stand watching awards shows, and in fact vowed never to again after the last one took about six hours with all the commercials and crap.
So, without further ado, I give you first Gran Torino: Walt Kowalski (Eastwood) is an irascible, racist old man. His wife has just died. His family is a bunch of selfish, disrespectful, spoiled brats -- his grand-daughter attends the funeral in a mini-halter, showing off her belly ring while she texts non-stop on her phone through the ceremony and pops her gum. Walt growls at her. At the wake afterwards, she stumbles upon the eponymous car in the garage. "Awesome vintage car, grandpa. Can I have it?" she asks completely guilelessly. Walt growls at her. I told Tery, "Have they never met the man? Christ, I've known the guy for seven minutes and I could tell you what a stupid question that was."
To make matters worse, the neighborhood is being taken over by gooks and swamp rats, epithets he doesn't hesitate to shout to their faces anytime they dare show them outside the house. No one understands why he sticks around -- his well-meaning family stops by with retirement resort pamphlets. Walt growls at them. "He could kill you with those pamphlets," I said to Tery.
There's a young, fresh-faced priest who looks more than a little like Joss Whedon, imploring Walt to go to confession to fulfill the dying wish of his wife. Walt growls at him and all but kicks him out of his house. His soul is tainted by the things he did in Korea, and no boy just out of the seminary can help him.
The family next door is nice enough despite being Hmong. Three generations, including brother and sister Sue and Thao (who Walt calls "Toad" until about 3/4 through the film). Thao is harassed by his cousin, who wants him to join his bad-ass gang (not clear why. Thao is a wimpy, introverted bookworm who prefers gardening. I certainly wouldn't want him to have my back if I were in the gang). When a scuffle between them spills onto Walt's property, we get the infamous rifle scene from the trailer, "Get off my lawn." Walt growls at them down the barrel. The gang wets themselves and scurries off, after making a weak attempt at manly threats that seem rather silly. Dirty Harry ain't afraid of no zipperheads.
This act makes him quite the neighborhood hero, and the Hmong families fill his porch steps with grateful offerings of flowers and food. Walt growls at them and throws it all away.
The gang hasn't given up. They still want to initiate Thao, and now the assignment is the theft of Walt's Gran Torino. Walt catches him in the garage, but despite supposedly hating these people with every fiber of his being, Walt lets him off unscathed. Yep.
Walt comes across Sue and her Vanilla Ice boyfriend being harassed by some black gangbangers in town. He comes to her rescue, because he hates Asians but he evidently hates blacks even more. This of course results in even more tributes on his porch, which he begrudgingly starts to allow.
One day Walt is on his porch enjoying a brewski. The family is having yet another party. Sue comes out to invite Walt over. He predictably refuses at first, but then is easily swayed when he realizes he's run out of beer. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you....oh, you have booze? Why didn't you say so?" Thank god I don't drink, or I might be BFFs with Tracey if this is all it takes.
That IS all it takes, and suddenly Walt is hanging out with Thao all the time -- mostly because he's been sentenced to community service to the old man to restore the family's honor he destroyed by trying to steal the car.
Before you know it, Walt is like one of the family. Making it especially tragic the night the gang returns in a drive-by attack on the house, and assaults Sue (off-screen, though the resulting physical damage is horrific enough). Walt is pissed, and the priest is too. The men talk and the priest implies Walt is the only one who can do anything about it. "Where's this alternate universe where priests sanction murder?" I asked Tery.
Thao naturally is clamoring for revenge, the first real emotion the actor shows in the whole film. Walt can't allow him to be damned the way he was in the war, and tricks him into the basement where he locks him in. He finally goes to the priest for confession, which disappointingly consists of pretty tame, run-of-the-mill transgressions, not the lurid war crimes we were expecting.
Then he's off to the gang's den, where he confronts them and is killed -- essentially tricks them into gunning him down in front of multiple witnesses, so the gang goes away to prison, presumably for life. Not what I expected, but looking back I see it's the only logical course of action. Throughout the movie Walt has mysterious jags of coughing up blood, and though we get no details, the sense is that it's probably terminal.
Which is where the movie really loses me. Yes, Walt's sacrifice is noble, but I feel somewhat less so since he didn't have long to live anyway. Not to mention I could tell we were working up to his funeral and I prepared to start crying. I probably even would have, except the turnout seemed a little thin. He gave up everything for these people, it should have been standing room-only full of Hmong. Instead there were maybe 15? 20?
Not only didn't I cry, but then the closing credits music is a song sung in Clint's raspy, gravelly voice. Unbearably schmaltzy.
I suppose Clint wasn't too bad. It's the same role he's played for most of his career, after all. But all the actors around him were bad. Really, really awfully awful. Embarrassingly awful. Tery and I couldn't believe this was nominated for a Golden Globe. And as of this morning, it wasn't even nominated for an Oscar, which means we essentially watched it for nothing.
Second was Revolutionary Road: Kate and Leo together again since Titanic, but it's hardly as romantic as expected.
They're a young couple on the cusp of 30, who realize they aren't terribly happy with their lives and still have time to do something about it. Leo works in a marketing firm, Kate (since it's the 50's) is stuck at home raising two children.
Kate has the brilliant idea for them to drop everything and move to Paris, for an idyllic 6 months of Kate supporting Leo while he decides what he really wants to do with his life. Ah, little wifey patiently waiting for the man to choose his path. Love the 50's.
There's a wrench in the plans, however, when Kate realizes she's pregnant. She's decided that she wants an abortion, but suddenly Leo isn't sure. They agree they have 12 weeks to do it safely, then proceed to never talk about it again. Leo, who thought he hated his job, is suddenly offered a promotion and starts to have doubts about Paris. They fight and fight and fight, and that's when the movie starts reminding me of American Beauty (I had no idea Sam Mendes directed this one too).
The highlight of the film comes in the very small role played by Michael Shannon, as the scientist who had a nervous breakdown and has consequently lost any interest in social niceties. He's highly entertaining in a refreshing, hostile kind of way. I said he was Heath Ledger's Joker without the makeup, a comparison that tickled Tery enough to mention in Oscar talk at the bar.
Kate and Leo miss the 12-week deadline, Leo still waffling heavily, seemingly content to let time make the decision for them. Paris is forgotten as the pipe dream it always was. Kate and Leo have the biggest fight yet, resulting in her wandering numbly in the woods hours after sundown. Leo can't sleep all night for worrying.
Next morning Kate serves Leo his breakfast with a forced smile. He actually believes everything is fine. He goes off to work and she sobs over the dishes in the sink. It begs the question, is it worse to be unhappy or to be unhappy and have to pretend that you're not?
The ending, similar to American Beauty, is unexpectedly tragic, but in a really understated, poetic way. I've said too much already.
Also as of this morning, this is another one that Oscar snubbed. Although Michael Shannon fully deserves best supporting, unfortunately he's up against Heath Ledger, so chances are probably slim.
All I'm saying is two movies on a Sunday, my weepiest day, and dry as a bone. If teardrops were Academy votes, it's pretty clear why these weren't nominated.
I was in line behind a woman with a hand-carry basket. We were both behind a family that looked vaguely Iranian? Iraqi? Middle Eastern. Their groceries were all bagged in the cart ready to go, when someone noticed a mistake on the receipt. The cashier took it back, examined it. Stared at it for a full five minutes with intense concentration, like she was reading a Twilight novel. She was young, blond, a bit paunchy. Had the exact facial bone structure of a pug dog.
Then I got to see the item in question. A fruit roll-up. I wish I were kidding. A fucking FRUIT ROLL-UP. Unless it rang up for $50 or something, there's just no reason for this. I think they actually bought five of them (because what kind of Commies buy just one fruit roll-up?), but still. The savings that they were pushing for couldn't have been that great.
Then someone had to be sent off to the aisle to find the correct price. Then the transaction had to be rectified. Blondie started fumbling with keys, scanning the candy. Scanned it again. Studied the register screen intensely. Scanned it again. I glared at her (and the family) with the hate of a million red hot supernovas, which probably didn't help anyone but it beat the hell out of doing NOTHING.
Meanwhile the man behind me had moved to the next line over. Someone with less patience than me? I should have proposed. However, the cashier there tried to pick up one of those gallon jugs of the unnatural lime-green juice drink; it slipped out of his hands and exploded all over the floor, creating a small unnaturally lime-green lake. "Boy, there's just no right answer here, is there?" the line jumper said to me. "Nope, we can't win," I agreed.
I gave Blondie another five minutes of apparently fruitless (pun sort of intended) scanning and keying before fleeing to another lane. Got everything rung up and passed her again on my way out, where the family was still standing and I heard Blondie say, "Okay. I'm just going to start all over again."
I just wanted to pay for my groceries.
~*~
Tery is hell-bent on seeing as many likely Oscar nominees as possible before the big event (she is every year, however, this year has an extra sense of urgency since she decided to throw a party and hold a contest to vote for the winners). As for me, I can't stand watching awards shows, and in fact vowed never to again after the last one took about six hours with all the commercials and crap.
So, without further ado, I give you first Gran Torino: Walt Kowalski (Eastwood) is an irascible, racist old man. His wife has just died. His family is a bunch of selfish, disrespectful, spoiled brats -- his grand-daughter attends the funeral in a mini-halter, showing off her belly ring while she texts non-stop on her phone through the ceremony and pops her gum. Walt growls at her. At the wake afterwards, she stumbles upon the eponymous car in the garage. "Awesome vintage car, grandpa. Can I have it?" she asks completely guilelessly. Walt growls at her. I told Tery, "Have they never met the man? Christ, I've known the guy for seven minutes and I could tell you what a stupid question that was."
To make matters worse, the neighborhood is being taken over by gooks and swamp rats, epithets he doesn't hesitate to shout to their faces anytime they dare show them outside the house. No one understands why he sticks around -- his well-meaning family stops by with retirement resort pamphlets. Walt growls at them. "He could kill you with those pamphlets," I said to Tery.
There's a young, fresh-faced priest who looks more than a little like Joss Whedon, imploring Walt to go to confession to fulfill the dying wish of his wife. Walt growls at him and all but kicks him out of his house. His soul is tainted by the things he did in Korea, and no boy just out of the seminary can help him.
The family next door is nice enough despite being Hmong. Three generations, including brother and sister Sue and Thao (who Walt calls "Toad" until about 3/4 through the film). Thao is harassed by his cousin, who wants him to join his bad-ass gang (not clear why. Thao is a wimpy, introverted bookworm who prefers gardening. I certainly wouldn't want him to have my back if I were in the gang). When a scuffle between them spills onto Walt's property, we get the infamous rifle scene from the trailer, "Get off my lawn." Walt growls at them down the barrel. The gang wets themselves and scurries off, after making a weak attempt at manly threats that seem rather silly. Dirty Harry ain't afraid of no zipperheads.
This act makes him quite the neighborhood hero, and the Hmong families fill his porch steps with grateful offerings of flowers and food. Walt growls at them and throws it all away.
The gang hasn't given up. They still want to initiate Thao, and now the assignment is the theft of Walt's Gran Torino. Walt catches him in the garage, but despite supposedly hating these people with every fiber of his being, Walt lets him off unscathed. Yep.
Walt comes across Sue and her Vanilla Ice boyfriend being harassed by some black gangbangers in town. He comes to her rescue, because he hates Asians but he evidently hates blacks even more. This of course results in even more tributes on his porch, which he begrudgingly starts to allow.
One day Walt is on his porch enjoying a brewski. The family is having yet another party. Sue comes out to invite Walt over. He predictably refuses at first, but then is easily swayed when he realizes he's run out of beer. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you....oh, you have booze? Why didn't you say so?" Thank god I don't drink, or I might be BFFs with Tracey if this is all it takes.
That IS all it takes, and suddenly Walt is hanging out with Thao all the time -- mostly because he's been sentenced to community service to the old man to restore the family's honor he destroyed by trying to steal the car.
Before you know it, Walt is like one of the family. Making it especially tragic the night the gang returns in a drive-by attack on the house, and assaults Sue (off-screen, though the resulting physical damage is horrific enough). Walt is pissed, and the priest is too. The men talk and the priest implies Walt is the only one who can do anything about it. "Where's this alternate universe where priests sanction murder?" I asked Tery.
Thao naturally is clamoring for revenge, the first real emotion the actor shows in the whole film. Walt can't allow him to be damned the way he was in the war, and tricks him into the basement where he locks him in. He finally goes to the priest for confession, which disappointingly consists of pretty tame, run-of-the-mill transgressions, not the lurid war crimes we were expecting.
Then he's off to the gang's den, where he confronts them and is killed -- essentially tricks them into gunning him down in front of multiple witnesses, so the gang goes away to prison, presumably for life. Not what I expected, but looking back I see it's the only logical course of action. Throughout the movie Walt has mysterious jags of coughing up blood, and though we get no details, the sense is that it's probably terminal.
Which is where the movie really loses me. Yes, Walt's sacrifice is noble, but I feel somewhat less so since he didn't have long to live anyway. Not to mention I could tell we were working up to his funeral and I prepared to start crying. I probably even would have, except the turnout seemed a little thin. He gave up everything for these people, it should have been standing room-only full of Hmong. Instead there were maybe 15? 20?
Not only didn't I cry, but then the closing credits music is a song sung in Clint's raspy, gravelly voice. Unbearably schmaltzy.
I suppose Clint wasn't too bad. It's the same role he's played for most of his career, after all. But all the actors around him were bad. Really, really awfully awful. Embarrassingly awful. Tery and I couldn't believe this was nominated for a Golden Globe. And as of this morning, it wasn't even nominated for an Oscar, which means we essentially watched it for nothing.
Second was Revolutionary Road: Kate and Leo together again since Titanic, but it's hardly as romantic as expected.
They're a young couple on the cusp of 30, who realize they aren't terribly happy with their lives and still have time to do something about it. Leo works in a marketing firm, Kate (since it's the 50's) is stuck at home raising two children.
Kate has the brilliant idea for them to drop everything and move to Paris, for an idyllic 6 months of Kate supporting Leo while he decides what he really wants to do with his life. Ah, little wifey patiently waiting for the man to choose his path. Love the 50's.
There's a wrench in the plans, however, when Kate realizes she's pregnant. She's decided that she wants an abortion, but suddenly Leo isn't sure. They agree they have 12 weeks to do it safely, then proceed to never talk about it again. Leo, who thought he hated his job, is suddenly offered a promotion and starts to have doubts about Paris. They fight and fight and fight, and that's when the movie starts reminding me of American Beauty (I had no idea Sam Mendes directed this one too).
The highlight of the film comes in the very small role played by Michael Shannon, as the scientist who had a nervous breakdown and has consequently lost any interest in social niceties. He's highly entertaining in a refreshing, hostile kind of way. I said he was Heath Ledger's Joker without the makeup, a comparison that tickled Tery enough to mention in Oscar talk at the bar.
Kate and Leo miss the 12-week deadline, Leo still waffling heavily, seemingly content to let time make the decision for them. Paris is forgotten as the pipe dream it always was. Kate and Leo have the biggest fight yet, resulting in her wandering numbly in the woods hours after sundown. Leo can't sleep all night for worrying.
Next morning Kate serves Leo his breakfast with a forced smile. He actually believes everything is fine. He goes off to work and she sobs over the dishes in the sink. It begs the question, is it worse to be unhappy or to be unhappy and have to pretend that you're not?
The ending, similar to American Beauty, is unexpectedly tragic, but in a really understated, poetic way. I've said too much already.
Also as of this morning, this is another one that Oscar snubbed. Although Michael Shannon fully deserves best supporting, unfortunately he's up against Heath Ledger, so chances are probably slim.
All I'm saying is two movies on a Sunday, my weepiest day, and dry as a bone. If teardrops were Academy votes, it's pretty clear why these weren't nominated.
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(Anonymous) 2009-01-25 03:26 am (UTC)(link)I am not reading your reviews yet b'cuz I haven't seen those yet. The only awardy movies I've seen so far are Doubt and WALL-E. I'm hoping to get to the movies next weekend maybe. xox
OFB
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We saw Doubt this past weekend and loved it. Watch this space.