The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

Directed by: Julian Schnabel

Written by: Ronald Harwood (screenplay); Jean-Dominique Bauby (book)
















I can't recall ever seeing a movie as stunning and striking and beautiful.  Perhaps other movies have had one of two of those features, but never before have they all come together in such a powerful way.

Jean-Dominique Bauby (Amalric) wakes to find himself in a hospital, unable to move his body except to blink.  He is trapped in his own mind, a victim of a massive stroke and "locked-in syndrome."  Gradually, he learns to communicate through blinking as other recite letters.  He attempts to come to terms with his permanent condition and the life he left behind - his job as an editor, the book he was writing, his children and their mother, his mistress, and his aging father (von Sydow).

To be honest, I am rarely at a loss for words.  But in this case, I may have met my match.  (Even my summary above seems pithy and unworthy of the film's plot.)

I highly recommend you see this movie.  Just be prepared to encounter something incredible.

The story is heroic and tragic.  The film is beautifully shot and edited.  The acting is strong and heart-wrenching.

See it.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

Directed by: Andrew Dominik

Written by: Andrew Dominik (screenplay), Ron Hansen (novel)

There exists a large division between art films and star-powered features. "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" manages to exist in the small area where the two can overlap. It's also amazing that the film is thoroughly entertaining despite the fact that the title gives away the outcome of the film.

Facing the end of his career, Jesse James (Pitt) takes in Robert Ford (Affleck) as part of his gang for his last few robberies, though it turns out that Ford has an unhealthy obsession with James's mythology. Later, as James's cautiousness deteriorates into paranoia, Ford is presented with an opportunity to collect a large reward to assassinate his hero.

This movie is big and grand, both in terms of its scope and in terms of its story. The movie may have bitten off more than it could chew - but most importantly, it feels that way.

Stylistically, the film is impressive. It's beautiful. The story is beautiful, the acting is beautiful, the cinematography is beautiful. It's all beautiful. But, even with all that beauty, it manages to maintain the grit and grime of the time period. It feels like the 1800s.

The performances of both Pitt and Affleck are fantastic, as has been discussed elsewhere. Pitt is especially powerful, given the limited amount of screen time he is given. He manages to evoke the overpowering presence of Jesse James, which is no easy feat.

The length of the film does become a bit of an issue. In the attempt to make a deep, full story with a trove of great characters, the story stretches on a bit. There are a few subplots and stories which, although great, could have been pared down. (But who am I to play editor, eh?)

I wanted to like this movie, but the actual experience was less than I had hoped. But on reflection, I can say that I enjoyed it more than I originally wanted to give it credit for. It's a decent western, but a much better character study.

I recommend it, if you like it. If you don't like it, don't say I didn't warn you.

The War

Directed by: Ken Burns, Lynn Novick

Written by: Geoffrey C. Ward

Ken Burns, who is known for making comprehensive documentaries about essential elements of American culture, tackles what is perhaps the defining moment in 20th century American history - the United States involvement in World War II.

With only seven episodes (approximately fourteen hours), "The War" is somewhat limited in its scope, considering the vast amount of material available. This is especially true considering how recent the events of this film are to modern times, relatively speaking compared to Burns's previous subjects. To focus the film, and to avert criticism, each episode begins with the epigram "The Second World War was fought in thousands of places, too many for any one accounting. This is the story of four American towns and how their citizens experienced that war."

This film marks a significant departure from the typical Ken Burns style. Usually, he divides his documentaries into a mix of interweaving storylines and character sketches, backed with historical narratiion and dynamic and illustrated maps. Although the narration remains (in the deep voice of Keith David), the use of maps was limited and the storylines and character sketches were conspicuous in their absence. In their place, the film leans heavily on powerful first-person interviews and narratives with those who were actually a part of the war effort. It's hard to criticize such a shift in style - especially given the opportunity Ken Burns could take advantage of to have these people share such incredible stories. But it's also hard not to imagine which character sketches could have been included, considering the vibrant major participants - Eisenhower, Roosevelt, and, of course, Patton.

Another departure from the usual Ken Burns model is that this film does not seek any kind of balance in the narrative. Enough has already been written about the omission of, and later inclusion of, the contributions of African-Americans, Latino-Americans, and Native-Americans to the war effort, so I will not add to that. This lack of balance, though, extends to the fact that only the American side of the story is told. No description of the experiences of the British, French, Russion, or German people is provided. This surprised me, given how much consideration was provided to the Confederates in Burns's prior work "The Civil War." I appreciate the need to limit the scope of the project, but I feel that a little more depth on some of the non-American subjects would have enhanced the overall picture.

All of this criticism aside: This film is perhaps the single most complete description of the American experience at America's defining moment. It's amazing how four moderately sized cities managed to have representatives at nearly every major event in the war, which shows what an all-encompassing event World War II was. Burns managed to effectively balance the experiences of the military servicemen - the battles that typically define a war - and the perhaps equally important experiences of their friends and families back in the city related to the war - the supply rationing, the shift in industrial output, and the emotional strain known as the "home front."

Credit should be given to Burns for not shying away from the well-documented horrors of war. Brutal, graphic, disturbing pictures are shown in full color without any censoring. Some of the interview subjects describe their awful physical and emotional experiences, often in horrific and indelible detail. None of it is shined or candy-coated or softened or twisted into some kind of patriotic message. I will never forget the story of one widow who received the telegram informing her of her husband's death. Although this could have been turned into a message about patriotic sacrifice, Burns instead leaves an eerie silence after describing the widow's "unearthly howl."

Personally, I appreciated the significant amount of time given to the air war of the European theatre, which Burns focused especially on the experiences of B-17 bomber crews. WWII documentaries tend to focus on ground battles because they are easier to document and recreate, but the fact is that the bombing campaign over Germany crippled (if inefficiently) German industry, which directly provided the Allies a critical advantage during the invasion of Europe. (My own personal stake - my grandfather was a B-17 pilot in the Army Air Corps - 8th Air Force, 100th bomb group.)

To conclude: "The War" may be the single best overarching documentary of WWII, a cornerstone of the modern American culture. It is limited in scale to only include the American perspective and involvement in the war, and it is limited in scope to focus on only the involvement of the citizens of four American cities. Despite these necessary limitations, the film manages to include every major campaign and battle in gritty detail. There may be better documentaries about individual aspects of the war, but it is hard to imagine a documentary that better encapsulates the entire American experience known simply as "the War."

Poor People

The heart of William T. Vollmann’s 2007 book on world-wide poverty is a simple question: “Why are you poor?” Yet the simplicity of most of the answers that he received from impoverished people throughout the world allowed him to write this reflection on the nature of poverty. At times powerful and depressing, this book exposes life under the poverty line all over the world and the reality of what it means to live, as Adam Smith declared, not being able to “afford to enjoy the necessaries, conveniences, and amusements of human life.”

Vollmann neatly breaks apart this longer philosophical work into several categories into which all of the chapters fit (with each chapter being, essentially, an individual essay or reflection), and so that is how I will break apart my discussion of his work.

In the first section, “Self-Defintions,” Vollmann provides us first with definitions which provide us the ability to discuss poverty, given that poverty itself exists as a somewhat abstract (if, at the same time, completely tangible) idea within the complex social-structure that is humanity. From here, he begins to paint us several portraits of poverty all over the world, from the drunk Sunee in Thailand to two beggar women in Russia (including their clearly disabled families) to two Japanese men who live under a bridge in Kyoto. These portraits are sometimes touching, sometimes disturbing, always interesting. From these sketches, Vollmann clearly reveals that poverty is not the same everywhere for everyone, including how the people came to poverty and even if the people consider themselves poor.

From here, Vollmann moves into his second section, “Phenomena,” in which he describes aspects of poverty evident at different levels in all poor people. These phenomena are invisibility, deformity, unwantedness, dependence, accident-prone-ness, pain, numbness, and estrangement. The most personally striking section is his explanation of how impoverished people everywhere suffer from invisibility, even though their suffering is evident. (Personally, it reminds me of the often deep poverty in which some of my students in Lynwood existed, though my ignorance often blinded me into denial of their circumstances.) Think about it – aren’t there parts of your own town, the poor part of town, that you won’t go? Through not driving through “skid row,” you have rendered those who live there invisible.

The third section, “Choices,” reveals choices which are not truly choices that the truly impoverished must live through in the attempt to escape poverty. He discusses the economic “amoritization” of labor to pay for freedom from poor circumstances, most often through prostitution, but sometimes through darker-than-mafia groups arranging marriages for visas at a massive human cost. Some, such as those in an oil town in Kazahkhstan sacrifice the poisoning of their health for new, nicer roads brought in by the American oil money.

Of course, Vollmann also touches on the “Hopes” that keep those who are in poverty use to keep surviving despite all of the odds being stacked against them. This hope of removal from poverty is most evident in the person of Gary, who gambles nightly on a lottery drawing that he knows is rigged. This hope also exists in the poor community which cleans its own toilet (really, a bowl) without any set outline of responsibility or consequences.

In the last section, “Placeholders,” Vollmann discusses his own personal feelings and experiences with poverty in proximity to his home. Most interesting, to me, was how he compassionately he interacts with the poor who vandalize his property, while, counter intuitively, he fears for the safety of himself and his property. Ultimately, Vollmann leaves us with no single answer or solution, aside from a reference to the pathetic United Nations call for “more aid, better directed.”

Aside from the hollow feeling left by the lack of any sort of positive resolution (and what did I really expect from a book titled “Poor People”), this book is fantastic. It effectively examines and reflects upon poverty through several lenses – statistics, science and psychology, personal experiences, and the visual. The use of photographs of most of those interviewed (except those who feared reprisal from authorities) makes every scene more vivid and powerful. Yet, at no point do Vollmann’s words request guilt or acceptance of blame from the reader. Instead, the book calls the reader to search his or her own soul and to examine his or her own thoughts and feelings about poverty. And, as such a thought provoking book, it is one of the best pieces of non-fiction I’ve ever read.

Atonement

Tagline: “You can only imagine the truth.”

Director Joe Wright’s adaptation of Ian McEwan’s novel “Atonement” tells version of the fable “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” set in World War II England.

In the first act, Briony Tallis (Saoirse Ronan) has a crush on the one of her family’s servants Robbie Turner (James McAvoy), but her image of him is ruined when she reads an inappropriate note he had written to her older sister Cecilia (Keira Knightly) and when she stumbles upon the two in a private moment of passion. When another family member is sexually assaulted, Briony lies and says that she saw Robbie doing it, using the raunchy note as evidence.

In the second act, taking place a few years later in the midst of World War II, Bobby has volunteered to join the British army in exchange for his freedom. Cecilia, realizing her sister’s lie, renews their affair and they exchange letters and passionate visits. Of course, the irony (in case you haven’t caught it) is that he has put his life in danger to earn freedom from a crime he didn’t commit. The two carry on a passionate affair, always with the promise of returning to England together.

The third act involves Brioney (now played by Romola Garai) coming to terms with the effects of her lie. She volunteers as a nurse, only to realize (in a very graphic moment) the power of love compared to the brutalities of war. Briony tracks down her sister, only to have to confront both Cecilia and Robbie, home on leave, together. Although it is too late to change much, Briony agrees to write a letter to the court explaining that she had lied as a child. She leaves, ashamed, giving the lovers a moment of privacy before he needs to report to the front lines.

The film has a coda, though, set in contemporary times. Briony is now an old woman (played by Vanessa Redgrave), and reveals that her latest novel, “Atonement” – telling the story of the triangle of love, sin, and contrition we’ve been watching – is completely true. Except! (she reveals) that Robbie actually died as the British army was evacuating Dunkirk and that her sister was killed by a bomb during the Battle of Britain. The part where Robbie and Cecilia meet up was completely made up by Briony for her book, giving them the chance to be happy together that she had originally taken away.

(Phew! Enough plot summary for now? I think so.)

I guess my strongest criticism of “Atonement” is that it tries to be too many things – an epic, a love story, a period piece, with sprinklings of social commentary. If it had focused on one of these aspects, it would have been a much better film overall. For example, although the visual and emotional effects of the scene of Robbie at the evacuation of Dunkirk were incredibly powerful, I feel that this scene did not necessarily add any meaning or depth to the rest of the movie. Although I appreciated that the film did not shy away from the brutal realities of war – Robbie and Cecilia do not live happily ever after – the final visual of old Briony confessing her sins and working for atonement was little overboard. (If you don’t understand from watching the rest of the movie that writing the book and giving new life to the dead was her penance, then you must be dense.)

My other major problem is that the film was too darn literary. I mean, I understand that it was adapted from a novel, but for a movie with essentially three major characters there was too much time spent creating verisimilitude by developing background characters. I don’t mind symbolism either, but too many times in this movie the symbols were so blatant as to be intellectually jarring (such as how the characters are standing in relation to each other in the scene when Robbie is arrested). Even the moment of catharsis – a powerful scene in which Nurse Briony visits a dying soldier who recalls his lost love – is so telegraphed that there may as well have been a caption reading “THE MOMENT OF CATHARSIS – BRIONY REALIZES THE ERROR OF HER WAYS.”

Part of the reason I am so critical of this movie, though, is because it is so close to being great in my opinion, but just misses the mark. I want desperately to hold it in high esteem, but I restrain myself. It has all the traits of a great movie, but felt like everybody – the director, the actors, even the composer – were trying for a great movie. The music, the scenery, the costumes, the performances – everything felt like it was created with Oscar gold in mind.

So, ultimately, I will say that this was a pretty good movie. (I avoid saying that it was “enjoyable” because any movie in which the audience is exposed, in seriousness, to a man missing part of his skull is hard to call “enjoyable.”) I recommend it highly, and I wish I had seen it in the theatre. I just wish it could have been better, somehow.

Listening Is an Act of Love (2007)

A Celebration of American Life from the StoryCorps Project.

For those of you who have never heard of StoryCorps: You need to listen to NPR more often! Founded by Dave Isay (who edited this collection), the group's mission "is to provide American's of all backgrounds and beliefs with the opportunity to record, share, and preserve the stories of their lives."

Traditionally speaking, history is written by the victors. And not just the victors, but usually only the wealthy and politically powerful victors. So, generations from now, what happens to us - the common man? We decay into statistics and vague generalizations correlating to our time period. And what happens to our private stories of personal triumphs and failures? No matter how wonderful, powerful, or teaching these stories might be, they dissipate into the ether.

Dave Isay set out to stop that vicious cycle. He and his StoryCorps cohort travel the country, giving anybody the opportunity to record a conversation for posterity. In this way, the folk heroes of modern America are given a chance to live forever when all the recordings are stored at the Library of Congress.

This book is a collection of transcripts of exemplary interviews recorded by the project. Although interview excerpts can be heard weekly on NPR (and via the group's podcast), reading these stories presented a new perspective - turning the interviews into true "stories." The nature of these stories ranges from the humorous (a man using a wooden leg to protect himself from a dog) to the powerful (a man returning a favor nearly 50 years later) to the tragic (a prisoner trying to overcome drug addiction). The last section is dedicated solely to tragic stories about September 11 and Hurricane Katrina.

While reading this book, I could not help remembering my grandfather. In retrospect, his experiences in the Great Depression and World War II would have made him an ideal folk hero. Yet, I was happy to read so many stories that paralleled his - people who made it through the hard times with dignity - people never complained about hard work - people who made this world a better place without consideration for individual egos.

I cannot recommend this book for the weak of heart or the emotionally sensitive; some of the stories are downright heartbreaking. But, I wholeheartedly recommend the book. Traced throughout these stories is the strength of the common man during uncommon times. It is a comforting feeling to realize that there are other people who, without glory or commendation, live upright and moral lives. And they live to tell the tale.

Gonzo: The Life of Hunter S. Thompson

An Oral Biography by Jann S. Wenner and Corey Seymour (2007).

Jann S. Wenner, founder and publisher of Rolling Stone, explains in the foreword that this book is basically an extension of the magazine’s tribute to Hunter Thompson after his death. That issue (if you were lucky enough, like me, to grab a copy) was almost completely dedicated to personal reflections from friends and celebrities on the giddy highs and violent lows that defined Hunter Thompson. This book completes that issue in the way that a great bonus disc can complete a great DVD set.

The book is broken apart into many vignettes about Thompson, told in the first-person, by those who were with him. The stories themselves are organized foremost by chronology, and then sub-divided by themes. The contributors consist of people from many aspects of his life, ranging from his childhood friends and neighbors, to his editors and celebrity friends. The stories also range from describing the wild, public side of Thompson, to his more private – almost sensitive – personal side.

Considering that Thompson’s favorite subject was, in many ways, himself, I was surprised to learn so much more about him than I had previously known. Parts of his life which had previously been out of focus, such as his childhood, became much more illuminated. Of course, it was also funny to read some stories that are already legendary – such as his crippling inability to meet a deadline and his superhuman tolerance for alcohol.

This last aspect, though, is also part of the book’s weakness. A few too many of the stories are re-hashes of prior stories, and the same story is sometimes even repeated a few times within this tome. At a few points, it drags on interminably, almost without aim, but yet, at other points, entire decades nearly vanish without comment. Too much time, I feel, is spent on details that did not change or add any meaning to what is already known. Surprisingly (though pleasantly), there is no lengthy discussion of his literary legacy or impact on writing – the book merely ends after his death.

It is hard to give a blanket recommendation for this book. If you have no idea who Thompson is, “Gonzo” is not the place to start. But, if you are already a Thompson fanatic, this book does not add much to his mystique either. I enjoyed this book merely as a reminder of a great writer – a man with so much control over his words – who could have been so much more, if only he had been able to control other parts of his life as well.

The Man from Earth

From Netflix: “Renowned sci-fi writer Jerome Bixby penned the script for this thought-provoking film starring David Lee Smith as John Oldman, a college professor who reveals to his colleagues that he’s actually a centuries-old caveman. And so begins a captivating philosophical meditation on immortality, the last work from screenwriter Bixby, who earned career accolades for his contributions to such genre-defining shows as “Star Trek” and “The Twilight Zone.””

This film was recommended to me based on my interest in the writer’s previous work. In regards to production value, though, the movie is a bit too much like the television shows the writer was famous for – very low. From the very start, the movie is dialogue heavy with little action. In fact, almost the entire movie takes place with the group of characters sitting around and talking. The majority of the film is set with the characters sitting in front of the fireplace of a cabin, with a bunch of boxes in the background.

The premise of the movie (directed by Richard Schenkman) is based on a game of logic – trying to prove or disprove a point that can neither be proven nor disproven. If a man lived for 14,000 years, how could he possibly prove it? At the same time, if someone claimed to live for 14,000 years, how could someone possibly prove him wrong? Much of the early dialogue of the film is spent exploring this, to only come to the conclusion that one must either accept or reject the premise regardless of the proof. This idea, the necessity of proof, leads to the most interesting discussion of the movie.

It turns out, you see, that John Oldman was, in fact, Jesus. He claims that he actually came preaching the same essential ideas as Buddhism, but that his words were misinterpreted and that it was humanity who deified him into the Jesus despite his protests. This idea is reminiscent of Daniel Quinn’s “Ismael,” in which it is posited that much of the Bible is an interpretation of the natural social development of humanity. Anyway…

Ultimately, Oldman tells everyone that he’s not really 14,000 years old, and that it was just a cruel joke. Of course, we all know that he is merely appeasing them because he is just about to move on to begin a new life before people realize that he is not aging. There's also a "deus ex machina" moment right near the end in which one of the characters realizes that Oldman is actually his father, which did not seem to fit in with the rest of the film. The end of the movie occurs very suddenly, and really settles nothing.

What has been surprising to me is how well this movie was (generally) received by the critics. It didn't get wild reviews, but I was surprised at how many people were generally impressed by it. I was simply underwhelmed. It is based on a very intriguing concept, but the concept itself was not explored beyond the surface level. There are no flashbacks or scenes that take place away from Oldman's cabin. I've seen student-produced plays that have better staging and blocking.

So, despite the intrigue of the premise and the charm of the low budget, the movie was unsatisfying.

You Don't Love Me Yet

After a heavy read like "Blood Meridian," I tried to ease up a bit and read something a little more lighthearted. Glancing at my shelf, I saw a book I had found in the bargain bin at Barnes and Noble, got excited about and bought, and then instantly forgot about - Jonathan Lethem's 2007 novel "You Don't Love Me Yet."

The book follows a few months in the life of Lucinda Hoekke, tracing the rise and fall of her unnamed band. As the novel begins, she is working for an abstract artist answering and documenting phone call complaints. In her free time, she jams with a band which seems to have a lot of potential (in terms of character), but which hasn't written a breakthrough song, or even played a gig. One day she gets a call from a complainer (a recurring complainer, in fact), and she falls in love with him. During the conversations of their affair, she picks up on several unique phrases - such as "monster eyes" - which inspire her to help write some lyrics which eventually become the bands strongest song. The band gets their first gig at a failed art experiment which morphs into a real party and gets them some positive attention Unfortunately, the complainer was also at the party, and leverages his creation of many of their lyrics into making the band let him join. The complainer then sabotages the band's radio appearance, and they miss their big chance. Yet, in the end, everyone is paired off and happy.

(Oh yeah, and somewhere in the book is a subplot about the guitar player kidnapping a kangaroo from the LA zoo and the zoo denying it to save face.)

The book's biggest limitation was the inability to actually hear the band. Very little is ever even said about how their music would sound - there is a distinct lack of sensory detail for the reader's ears (if that makes sense, somehow).

I remember that there was a lot of negative feedback for Lethem when the book came out. And not undeserved, I can confidently say. This novel pales in comparison to his other novels, and isn't even in the same league as his masterpiece - "The Fortress of Solitude."

But, on the other hand, this novel never really aspires to be that type of book. So how can we complain when it doesn't achieve it? It's more like the outline for a romantic comedy with a twist-of-Lethem (mostly in the names of the characters). It

I can say that it was a nice, smooth read, and that it didn't require a lot of thinking - unlike "Walden" and "Blood Meridian." I can't say that it belongs on the same shelf as those books, though. It doesn't. It just doesn't.

Juno

So, I finally broke down and saw Jason Reitman's 2007 film "Juno" - mainly because Nicole wanted me to.

The movie follows the pregnancy and related life-changes of a teenage girl named Juno (Ellen Page). Not only does she have to deal with her pregnancy, but also the complexities of giving the baby up for adoption as well as the typical challenges of being an American teenager. She decides to give her baby to a young couple - Mark and Vanessa (Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner) - whose marriage then proceeds to fall apart. In the end, she gives away the baby to the suddenly-single Vanessa, and then realizes that she is in love with the father of the child. The end.

There is a moment very early in the film in which Juno's father, just informed of her pregnancy, says that he thought she was the kind of girl who knew when to say when. Juno responds by saying "I don't know what kind of girl I am."

Frankly, that's how I felt about the whole movie. I could not tell which way it was going or what kind of message I was supposed to be getting out of it. Was it supposed to be a realistic drama about teenage pregnancy? Was it supposed to be a comedy? A tragedy? A romance? (I pretty well eliminated sci-fi adventure after the first scene.)

As a realistic drama, it failed. The character of Juno was completely unbelievable. No high school junior is familiar with Iggy and the Stooges, the Carpenters, Sonic Youth, Mott the Hoople and is completely comfortable referring to the early seventies as "Punk, Volume One" as well as readily referring to McSweeney's (among her many other underground cultural references). She had the witty comeback and the right thing to say simply too often to be believable. Her parents were even less believable, leaving reality the moment they said that they couldn't believe she was pregnant because they were expecting her to have a DWI or be into hard drugs. Let's face it - no parent would act so casually so soon after hearing that kind of news from their teenage daughter.

As a comedy, it failed. Rainn Wilson and Michael Cera are great at what they do in their other movies and TV shows (well, maybe not Rainn Wilson in his movies), but in this movie their performances seemed forced and fell flat. Rainn Wilson's only scene was shown, nearly in its entirety, in the trailer, and seemed only there to leverage his star power from "The Office." Michael Cera, meanwhile, wasn't given nearly enough screen time to do anything meaningful, except eat Tic-Tacs, or have any impact on the film (but more on that a little later on in this post).

As a film tragedy (perhaps tragedy is the wrong word - character piece?) about the trials and tribulations of a pregnant teenage girl, it failed. Juno cries or shows any major emotion about her situation once (maybe twice) in the entire film. Instead, she spends most of her time showing off how hip she is (or, rather, how hip the writer and director are to include the references) and occasionally complaining about how much she has to pee. I'm not saying that I wanted the baby to die or anything, but a little bit of suffering - or even some discomfort - would have been a bit more appropriate. Instead of any sort of panic or worry when her water breaks, she once again takes the chance to show off how cool she is by referencing the Thundercats when she needs to leave.

Finally, as a romance, it fell completely flat. Juno's romantic interest is her best friend Bleeker (played by Michael Cera), who also happens to be the father of the baby. Yet, he only appears in a handful of scenes. Which is what makes it so surprising that the big cathartic moment in the resolution is when Juno realizes that she is truly in love with Bleeker, and they go playing guitar together happily ever after. I didn't see that coming - mainly because that subplot was so insignificant for the entire movie up until that point!

So - what kind of movie was "Juno" then? (And if anyone says anything like "it was an indie movie," I'm going to pummel them with a truckload of DVDs of the movie!) I'm not quite sure. And that leaves a really dissatisfying taste in my mouth.

Run Fatboy Run

I must admit that I didn't expect much from "Run Fatboy Run" (2007) when I threw it in the DVD player last night. I figured it would be simple, corny, and filled with dry attempts at edgy humor. And, to an extent, my expectations came true. But the movie also had a simple, heart-warming charm that I was not expecting, and which made it an enjoyable film.

It stars Simon Pegg as Danny, a somewhat overweight, lowlife of a man who has major trouble with commitment - running away from his pregnant would-be bride, Libby, moments before the wedding. He is trying to re-spark the relationship with his ex-fiance, when, surprise surprise, he finds out that she has taken on a new lover - the very wealthy and in-shape Whit (played by Hank Azaria). Danny decides to prove that he has matured enough to commit by running in the same marathon as Whit.

Where I feel the movie gains its real charm, though, is through its minor characters and (albiet weak) subplots. Danny and Whit are vying for the affection of both Libby and her son - Danny with humor and Whit with an endless supply of money (and all the things money can buy). Danny's best friend Gordon (Dylan Moran) has a gambling problem, but has managed to wager his entire debt to the underworld on whether Danny can complete the marathon. The sultry daughter of Danny's landlord wagers with Danny that she will forgive all of his past-due rent if he can complete the race, but that she'll evict him immediately if he doesn't. But his kind landlord takes it upon himself to become Danny's "assistant coach" and motivate his training with a swift spatula in the rear-end.

Have I mentioned that this little heartwarmer was directed by non-other than Ross from "Friends"? That's right - this film was the big-screen directorial debut for David Schwimmer. The screenplay was also written in-house (at least, collaboratively) by Simon Pegg.

Most of the people involved in this movie have been a part of bigger and better things. This movie doesn't necessarily mark a low-point in their careers. More of a side project that became overshadowed by everything else surrounding it.