War Horse—Savor it

I’m not really a fan of animal movies. When the wellbeing of an animal becomes greater than the wellbeing of a person, it rubs me the wrong way. So it was a pleasant surprise to find that War Horse is really about people. People who drink. People who mock. People who hate. People who love. People who care. People who overcome. And people who die. The film intersects stories of men and women who do whatever it is they do with grace and kindness, and when they tried with the worst, they continue with simple goodness.

In the same sense that this is much more than an animal movie, it’s also its own breed of war movie. Death here is appropriately horrific and appropriately reverenced. The nightmare of the trenches flashes into you in a way no history book catches, yet with a gentle enough hand for you to grab hold of the respect you need and nothing more.

No one character is particularly glorified or outstanding. They each exhibit greatness as they cross paths momentarily. I was distracted throughout the movie because each new character seemed to look just like someone I know: my dad’s boss, my piano teacher, my neighbor. As I watched soldiers descending into the depths of WWII, it occurred to me that these are people I know.

These average looking and ordinary people represent the men who come before me—at least one of my direct descendants—but more so they stand in for the souls that were just down the street from my relatives, who gave and shared bread with them before they died. Where many family lines ended, mine did not, and it survived with the traces of good neighbors who gave their lives in full in the end and who had likely given bits of their time and spirit to their friends before.

War Horse sweeps across these stories lightly against a color palette of hope in bleakness. See it, and savor it.

Skip It: The definitive word that "Alvin & the Chipmunks" is a wreck of a movie

I'll confess that I get a kick out of pop songs I hate being sung in Chipmunk voices. Some of you may share this guilty pleasure. If you are one of those people, please don't let yourself be deceived like I was into thinking that this pleasure can last for more than three minutes.

I was warned that "Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked" would not be a fun movie. But the fact that it has had the most show times at the dollar theater out of all the other holiday movies made me think it would be great.

The first five minutes are enjoyable, but even while I was enjoying it, I wondered what else six chipmunks and poor Dave could be doing for the next hour and a half. It's really all about the same, with one funny moment (a man dressed in a pelican mascot suit puts his head on backward and says, "I'm always watching you."), lots of references to other movies that are rarely clever and usually creepy (the cutest of the chipettes climbs atop a mango and snarls, "Precious!"), and a few cute moments in which Theodore truly is lovely.

That's all you need to know. If you're still hankering for some chipmunks, just youtube the chipmunk version of your favorite song.

Now, here's something you may not know. Does Sonic sell hamburgers for a dollar on Tuesdays? Yes, they do. Can those hamburgers fit into my coat pockets? Yes, they can. Do they taste great in an empty movie theater? Yes, they do. Do they make me look funny when walking in? Why yes. They do that too. 

Enjoy my favorite bad pop song taken to new heights of awesomeness.

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

"Think nothing," he says on the subway. I'm not sure I'm capable of this, but I did it once on a subway too. That's where this movie gets me.

Few movies are everything I want. Even fewer are everything I need. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close sunk into me in a pleasing and soothing way. It was instructive to my mind: here's crazy. Here's uncrazy. As everything goes in and out of focus for Oscar, I get closer to the holes in my mind, the gaps in my way of thinking, and they close up in the example of how we deal with fear.

Please see it. Savor all of it.

See/Skip/Savor: To Tintin

As I begin this review, I'll remind you of the assumptions behind See/Skip/Savor: I assume that like me you don't have the money to see a film before it hits the dollar theatre, making my review still timely.

So here's the scoop on the adventures of Tintin. In short, I have never liked this animation style, until today. It wasn't the scenery that got me, although the 3D was well used. Where it really made its mark is in the face of Tintin.

I've heard it said that Tintin is a boy's movie. There is more than enough crashing and "car" chases to earn that label. But as a woman, the expressiveness of Tintin's face never ceased to pull me in and engage me. He was the kind of boy I loved at ten and fourteen: curious and slightly dramatic. He also does lots of great monologuing, which I actually, in all seriousness, adore. He's definitely got the lines of a book character, but his face convinces us that he's in all earnestness enjoying the moment.

Will you occasionally groan? Yes. Will there be the odd incredible escape that is physically impossible? Oh yes. Will there actually be numerous escapes that are absolutely impossible? There will in fact be more than you might be able to handle. Will it be enjoyable though? Yes. Savor it for being fun, enjoyable, and still somewhat surprising.  

See/Skip/Savor: My Neighbor Totoro

I'll spare the categories and just cut to the chase: see My Neighbor Totoro and savor it. I was afraid it would scare me. I was afraid I wouldn't like it. I was afraid I would miss something by not watching it with subtitles. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get it back to the library. I was afraid I'd never get it to play on a computer past the first five minutes.

I am obviously afraid of many things. I watched it in spite of those. It's a children's movie after all, right? Yes. And no. It's a movie for everyone. For me though, it was a movie for the mom I am not yet: both literally and spiritually.

I'm afraid of more things than just not liking movies. Unlike Satsuki and Mei, I'm afraid of the dark. I'm afraid of things hiding in corners. I'm afraid of monsters. I'm afraid of ghosts. These are things we normally stop fearing once we're no longer little kids. I think Satsuki and Mei have beaten me to overcoming these though. They step into the darkness with a loud growl and a laugh to scare away anything scary. This is a lovely method, but can a grown woman scream every time the sun goes down?

I'm afraid of my own children some day coming to me with fears that I also have: things under the bed, making new friends, and dark spaces. I need to respond with comfort, proper assurance, and real answers—things I need to give myself now.

I'm afraid of worse things: like losing children. I recognize that I'll become an over-bearing mother who can't let her kids out of her sight. Though I recognize that, I'm determined not to become that. As Satsuki and Mei ran around free in their world, I was nervous. I wanted them to be safe. I wanted someone to know where they were at all times. But as the movie went forward, my worries left. The example of trusting, loving, and hopeful parents stood in place of what I feared. Their children were taken up by a cat bus, for crying out loud, and I was totally okay with that. It's a safe world. My children won't have a Totoro exactly, but are we not constantly encircled in the care of angels? I believe that. I can trust that. I can let my children run. I can escape my own fears.