Animated

I have been a fan of graphic novels for a while, so when I heard a while back that Persepolis was being made into an animated feature I was thrilled. Jim and I saw it yesterday as part of our last-date-night-before-baby and loved it. It’s up for an Oscar, and I have to say I’ll be ticked if Ratatouille wins instead. Don’t get me wrong, the little rat movie was very cute. But in terms of artistic achievement I think Persepolis is the hands-down winner.

Other graphic novels I recommend:
The Maus series
Epileptic
One Hundred Demons
Any of the Harvey Pekar publications

Recovered

It’s nice to be feeling relatively normal again—something I’m not taking for granted. Of course I was initially worried about how poor Max faired the stomach flu ordeal, but he seems to be doing just fine. At my appointment last week my doctor reassured me with her complete lack of concern when I told her about The Sickness. Her response went something like, “Uh huh . . . any other issues or questions?” So I figured if she wasn’t worked up about it then I shouldn’t be either.

With my health restored, this weekend we continued our pre-baby movie-seeing quest. This time around it was “There Will Be Blood”. In a word, “WOW”. When we walked out of the theater the first thing I said was “That was NOT a mainstream movie”. Which is great, and what I prefer, but WOW. Daniel Day Lewis does an amazing job as usual, and the soundtrack alone was worth the price of admission. It was written courtesy of the guitarist from Radiohead, and it’s incredibly effective. And eerie. I would be shocked if the film doesn’t end up with several Oscars; it is definitely deserving.

I looked up the reviews on Rotten Tomatoes when we got home and thought Peter Travers said it best (as usual): “Lovers of formula and sugarcoating will hate it. Screw them. In terms of excitement, imagination and rule-busting experimentation, it’s a gusher.”

Nice.

In Heaven, everything is fine.*

Despite the fact that I’m a huge David Lynch fan, I had never seen Eraserhead until last night. I added it to our Netflix queue a while ago, and it was finally time to give it a go. Whoo-boy! In short, it made Blue Velvet look like a sitcom. Totally bizarre and incomprehensible. Disturbing.

David Lynch is famous for never commenting on what his movies REALLY mean, and this is one time that I would die to know. There is a DVD extra that is an interview with Lynch, but it offers absolutely no insight. In fact, it’s one of the most inane things I’ve seen in a while. I kept watching and watching and watching (they thing goes on for at least an hour, but it seemed like two) and waiting for him to say something interesting or offer a tidbit of insight, but I was sorely disappointed. I guess the purpose was for him to talk about the making of the film (which took years and hit many snags). At one point he waxes nostalgic about one of the crew members who happened to love yogurt. The real kind—in the plastic cups. He ate it with a plastic spoon, and he would scrape the bottom to get the last little bit, which really annoyed everyone. Not even kidding. There’s also an odd tale about a dead cat that David Lynch acquires, dissects, and eventually submerges in a pool of tar (or oil? can’t remember). He comes back for the cat a year later, pulls it out of the muck, and he describes the experience like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Jim didn’t exactly appreciate the movie (and he fell asleep during the extra, telling me “Give me the Cliff Notes version when I wake up”), but I’m glad I finally saw it. I can see why it was groundbreaking, and laid the path for Lynch to create his signature style of wackiness. It makes me want to rent the Twin Peaks episodes and some of his other movies again. I guess as much as I like to know the meaning behind art, I also like to be thrown off-guard.

* Lyrics to a song sung by a deformed chipmunk-cheeked lady who lives in a radiator. Yeah, for reals.

Of zombies and psychos

We saw “Grindhouse” last weekend, and I thought Robert Rodriguez’s flick “Planet Terror” was awesome. It was everything a zombie flick should be. And Rose McGowan was great. I’m surprised she isn’t a bigger name at the box office—she’s definitely talented. Though it is a bit hard to get past the dalliance she had with Marilyn Manson a few years back. Because, come on. That guy is so ICK. How does he score such hot babes? I will never understand. His music is lame and the whole get-up is a complete clown show. And believe me, I’m not immune to the powers of weird schtick. I think Rob Zombie is fabulous.

But I digress . . .

Jim finds my love of movies like “Grindhouse”, “Kill Bill”, and “Sin City” totally baffling because there are other categories of gore and horror I can’t stomach. War movies? Forget it. They totally freak me out. I get insanely upset, start crying, etc. It’s because I know not only COULD such violent scenarios occur, they HAVE and will CONTINUE to occur. The thought is so depressing I can’t stand it. I practically melted into a puddle of despair during “Saving Private Ryan” (which I HAD to see because it was getting so much press and was so great and blah blah blah).

I also avoid films like “Saw”, “Seven”, etc. There are some exceptions—”Silence of the Lambs” comes to mind. And don’t get me wrong, it scared the bejesus out of me. But it was a well made film, and that fact somehow helped me cope with the residual psychological trauma. Plus, Jim and I have gotten SO much mileage out of the “it puts the lotion on its skin” line.

Basically, it’s like this. Gore and freakiness that COULD potentially happen (as in a war movie or a torture flick)? Bad. Fictional, over-the-top gore and freakiness? Bearable, and sometimes even great. For example, I realize that a “Halloween” scenario is far-fetched at best, but it COULD happen. And that freaks me right the hell out. I mean, how much would it suck to be chased around a house by a freaky-mask-wearing madman? The consequences of viewing such films is Not Worth It to me. I will stay awake for hours afterwards, plotting my escape from the crazy who is undoubtedly trying to break into our house THISVERYMINUTE and kill us in a horrible way. Should I try to hit him with the bedside lamp? Should we lock ourselves in the bathroom and then jump out the window? We’d better take a couple blankets with us so we can somehow lower the dogs to the ground from the 2nd floor before we jump. Yeah, that’s a good idea. And on. And on.

But “Kill Bill”? Or “Sin City”? Or even the “Grindhouse” flicks? Sure they are gory, but the gore is stylized. And they’re not SCARY, per se. I don’t lie in bed at night and worry that someone with a samurai sword and a saucy attitude is going to track me down so she can chop off my noggin, or that zombies are going to jump out of my closet and start eating my brains.

Anyway, I guess I’ll admit that my tastes are a bit contradictory. Just call me an enigma wrapped in a riddle, sealed with kiss from a mysterious stranger.