From the Busy Basement

François Truffaut and Steven Spielberg on set. How ridiculously amazing is that?!

Just imagine watching Richard Dreyfuss run across this field....while you're basically sitting in the field.

Warning: There be spoilers ahead!

Don't let the title or ad campaign fool you - it's about so much more than a wedding

I am not a wedding person. I have never been a bridesmaid* or a maid of honor. In fact, I have only been to three weddings in the last seven years, despite a large number of my high school and college classmates having gotten married in that time. I do watch a lot of wedding programs when I have cable, but mostly because the whole endeavor & the contemporary wedding industry seem so crazy to me ($6,000 on a wedding dress! $30,000 on a ceremony and reception! The tears! Finding the perfect chair to fit the steampunk, Tuscan fairytale theme!). Okay….I also just really like cake programs - making, decorating, judging, whatever. I love it. I guess I also like passing judgment on the couple’s choices. (Don’t judge me. You do it too.)

My point is that, while I imagine it’s very true that Bridesmaids speaks to the absurdity of the wedding/bridesmaid experience and the unique iteration of female friendship that it brings to light, that cannot account for my love for the film and its characters. Neither can it really account for the pleasure male viewers take in the film or the connection they might feel with Annie (Kristen Wiig).

But this isn’t really a movie about a wedding or being a bridesmaid - only a few scenes actually have to do with wedding preparations and I don’t think the scene from the trailer where Annie drinks and Googles “maid of honor duties” is even in the film. Annie’s unease with her best friend Lillian’s marriage isn’t about relationship status or jealousy or feeling empty as a single person - it’s about feeling stalled. It seems like Lillian’s life is moving forward, while Annie’s is not. That is an insanely frustrating feeling and can engender a lot of self-pity, especially when you have actually tried hard to move your life forward.  Annie is no Ben (Seth Rogen in Knocked Up), who initially “fails” because he doesn’t try at all. Once he does apply himself (thanks to the “love of a good women” and the paternal imperative), he gets a job, grows up, and is a dorky, slightly immature “catch”. Annie did try. She opened a small business, had a “grown-up” life and a boyfriend, was good at what she did - if Officer Nathan’s (the adorable Chris O'Dowd from UK's The IT Crowd) declarations don’t convince you, there’s the framed article in Annie’s room to prove it.  How much more affecting, then, to fail or be rejected for reasons at least partly outside of your control (in Annie’s case, due to the economy)?

I’d argue that this is a much more relatable situation and also a richer, more difficult one.  There are times in most people’s lives when things just do not go right, despite your best and most strenuous efforts.  Your life is a mess and simply hooking up with the right person (Knocked Up, countless rom-coms) or taking a trip (Eat, Pray, Love) or finding your ‘passion’ no matter how ridiculous (designing shoes? Really, P.S. I Love You?) won’t magically make it better. As I am personally learning, you have to just endure it and do your best to improve what you can: your self-image, your state of mind, your relationships. Annie’s personal journey doesn’t end in a happy resolution of all her problems. She still lives with her mom, she is still unemployed. What Annie gains (aside from an adorable Irish boyfriend) is a greater sense of self-worth and self-awareness.  She is able to find joy in baking again, even if she doesn’t have her business back. She has enough self-respect to realize she’d rather be alone and feel good about herself than continue in an emotionally, psychologically and physically unsatisfying pseudo-relationship. It's true that she doesn’t have to be alone for long (thanks to Officer Nathan), but getting together with Nathan seems more the icing on the cake (pun intended) than something necessary for or the ultimate indicator of Annie's success. Annie is not ‘fixed’, but she is starting to see herself as something that is not permanently damaged. The film isn't wrapped up with a tidy little bow, but it's so much more interesting (and real?) that way.

Annie’s stalled status also isn’t necessarily a gendered experience or state of being.  While much of the strength and richness of the film is based in what I feel to be a decent representation of female friendships, Annie’s feelings of self-pity, her loss of financial independence, the way she returns to a (non)relationship that is not good for her……a lot of people - men, women, trans, gay, straight - can relate to that. I have no doubts that cisgendered women like myself with at least one strong female friendship will feel more connected to the film, but Annie’s appeal is much broader than that demographic.  Aside from being hysterically funny, she is also a well-drawn character with flaws and problems that are relatable across the gender spectrum - the very least of which is whether to go to Vegas or the Lake House for the bachelorette party.

Want to read some more about Bridesmaids? Check these out!

• Dana Stevens's review for Slate
• Anne Helen Peterson's "Ten Simple Reasons to Go See Bridesmaids"
• "Seeing Bridesmaids is a social responsibility" - While I may not go as far as to say it's a social responsibility to see the film, Rebecca Traister's article on the importance of the film in the current entertainment climate is a good read
• "BRIDESMAIDS, Will You Be My BFF?" by Amanda Ann Klein

*...never in my adult life. I was a bridesmaid once in high school, for my neighbor's second wedding.  Her kids, my sisters, and I were all in the wedding party, but we pretty much just had to pick out the color & embellishments for our dresses and stand still during the ceremony.  Fun fact: that bridesmaid dress doubled as my dress for junior prom!

While I won't officially graduate until May - convenient for me, as I can still take advantage of teaching assistant opportunities - I completed my degree requirements for the M.A. in Cultural Studies at Claremont Graduate University. As part of my degree, I prepared a "paper of publishable quality", which is my department's version of a thesis. I'll be presenting an abbreviated version of this paper at the upcoming PCA/ACA conference in San Antonio, Texas, and thought I'd share it here for anyone who wants to read it in its entirety!



"Come see a fat, old man sometime!" Masculinity and Aging in True Grit and Unforgiven analyzes the way True Grit (1969) and Unforgiven (1992) grapple with the antithetical construction of aging and masculinity in Western society. This analysis is achieved primarily through close readings of the films as works of historical fiction that project current concerns about masculinity into the past. Guided by scholarship on age in men and masculinity studies and on masculinity in Westerns, this reading foregrounds the way the aging heroes meet and largely overcome challenges to their masculinity, primarily through traditional demonstrations of strength, violence, and competence aided by the iconicity of each film's star. It is in the nature of these recuperations that a line between the untroubled masculinity of True Grit and the fractured masculinity of Unforgiven can be drawn. Both films reject the antithetical positioning of aging and masculinity in Western society (and many Westerns) and suggest through the bodies of aging gunslingers that even old men can be masculine. While this may seem an uplifting reclamation of masculine identity for older men, its reliance on the demonstration of physical strength, power, and domination tie it to growing requirements that men “age successfully” - which may be just as damaging as denying older men “masculinity” altogether.





Eventually, likely after it comes out on DVD and I can get a second viewing, I'll write a post or two about the new True Grit, the ways it both improves upon and has difficulty measuring up to the previous film, and the different portrayals of Mattie in the two films and novel.  If you're interested in the new film, I highly recommend Kelli Marshall's posts on the film. 

You may remember the assignment I completed for my visual research methods course with the fantastic Alex Juhasz.  Well, this Friday, November 12, I will be presenting it as part of the Vampire Love area of the 2010 Film & History Conference in Milwaukee, WI.  The theme for the conference this year is "Representations of Love in Film and Television" and the Keynote Speaker will be Laura Mulvey - so you can only imagine how excited I am to participate.  It's a great opportunity to present a unique piece of scholarship of which I am quite proud and will be the focus of future research I do, and I get to visit the "beer capital of the world".

For those who cannot be at the panel (happening November 12, 2:30-4p, Session 236B – Lakeshore C (1^st Floor) for those who will be there), I've decided to post the brief presentation I will give before showing the video essay.  After thinking on it, I decided to contextualize the video essay - what drew me to the project, the Twilight debates, my approach in/to the video essay - rather than .  This is partly to avoid being repetitive, but also because .  Part of the reason I chose the medium of video essay to address its specific topic was that it allowed me to do so in a way a traditional paper could not.  Trying to translate the video essay into a traditional paper/presentation format would be very difficult and would destroy some of its impact and insight.  Needless to say, I am curious how my work will fit into the conference proceedings...

That said, my presentation lies behind the jump!  Enjoy and please, please let me know if you have any comments or suggestions.

I've added a new page to the blog called "Papers".  While it doesn't have much to it at the moment, I'll be updating it periodically with pieces I've written for courses, conferences and publications.  I'm interested in making them available to a larger audience/community, so that others might make use of them, give me suggestions and additional resources, and otherwise engage in greater dialogue about media.  To kick things off, I'd like to share an analysis of the use of audio exaggeration in Raising Arizona (1987), directed by the Coen Brothers, that I wrote for my film theory course this semester.  The downloadable link to the PDF of the essay can be found on the new Papers page.

Photo from deadline.com

  Earlier this week, it was announced that Stephen King's massive 7-book, metafictional Dark Tower series would be finally making its way onto the big and small screens.  In what is being hailed as an unprecedented move, Universal Pictures and NBC Universal Television Entertainment will turn the book series into three feature films, each spanned by a network television series.  Akiva Goldsman (Cinderella Man, A Beautiful Mind, and some of my favorite episodes of Fringe) will write the screenplay of at least the first film and television series, both of which Ron Howard has already agreed to direct.  Brian Grazer, Goldsman, and Stephen King will produce.  The television series will feature the same actors as the feature films and be headed by the same creative forces - a utilization of a media conglomerate's vertically integrated resources never before attempted.


I am a big enough fan of King's work and the Dark Tower series in particular to be both obnoxiously excited and ridiculously nervous about the upcoming film/television series.  I was a little disappointed when the Abrams-Cuse-Lindelof adaptation fizzled because of the trio's expressed affection for the King series and have always been somewhat skeptical of how well The Dark Tower will translate to the screen.  King's works are not known for working well as films, owing not in small part to the graphic nature of most of his stories and that there is a great deal of "action" that is internal to the characters.  While I have not read the Dark Tower graphic novels yet, there is something about the comic medium that seems to fit well for me with the story.  On top of all of this, you still have the issues of casting, production design, story arch choices, etc.  If all this isn't enough to make a fan nervous, I don't know what is.


And yet....I am hopeful for this upcoming adaptation, should everyone follow through with it.  I think it is ambitious to embark on this kind of project - especially with such a convoluted, meta-fictional, mixed genre series - but it is that ambitiousness that gives me hope.  Much of my hesitation about potential film/television adaptations of the Dark Tower series (in addition to the general ones about King's work noted about) is its scope.  The thing is MASSIVE - the mass market paperback that I own of the final book in the series clocks in at 1072 pages all by itself.  Add in the other six books, flashbacks, and side stories, and you have a series to rival those by Lewis and Tolkien (if in heft alone).  It could not fit into a traditional film (or trio of films) without devastating cuts.  In this way, it is more suited to television, where it could take time to unravel the story, spend an episode or two on the back stories of characters and so on.  However, the nature of the story almost requires the resources of a big-budget film (and studio).  It will require massive effects work, not to mention elaborate costuming and staging if certain portions of the story remain in place.  Using feature films to tell the "big parts" of the story and a television series to fill in the spaces between the films (presumably the "slower" or more drawn out portions) seems a creative way to use each medium as it can best tell the story.

It will be an exciting experiment in cross-platform storytelling.  Perhaps, years from now, we media scholars will look back on it as a shining example of transmedia and medium specificity.  For now, there are still many questions to answer.  Who will play Roland? How will they handle the metafictional elements (ie, King himself becoming a character late in the series, the connections to other King works, etc)?  Will there be online/print comics in the vein of Marvel's graphic novels to help further fill in character backstory (my opinion: it's almost necessary)?  Will audiences go for it - both in terms of the unpleasantness of the story and commitment to the franchise? Is Ron Howard really the right director?

I’ve recently run across the writings of Edward Soja, one of the foremost theorists in spacial studies. In the introduction to his book Postmodern Geographies, Soja argues for the necessity of engaging with and understanding the important confluence of time, space and social being in building what he terms “human geographies”. For Soja, it simply will not do to consider time without space or space without time - they are inextricably linked and social relations are formed in the confluences. The majority of the introduction traces the way an “unbudgeably hegemonic” historicism and preoccupation with time as the primary way to understand human existence that has negated the importance of space.* Soja identifies the way Western Marxism found space a troubling concept, as a grounding in specific localities could threaten a united global proletariat movement and revolution. He also points to the ways Foucault often denied the fact that he was working in/with space (and was in many ways a geographer), as there was no respect for spatiality and no real way to talk about it within the academy. It’s a fascinating read, especially for those who (like myself) were trained in fields that engage with space on a regular basis. I never realized the historical neglect of space as an aspect of social power and understand social relations, but can now see it in the discussions I’ve had with history students with whom I am doing coursework.

Soja was brought up with regard to understanding Scorcese’s Gangs of New York (2002), where time becomes messy and space takes precedence.  For those familiar with the film, I pose an intriguing question: what if the two eruptions of violence at the end of the film (the draft riot and the gang battle) are representative of battles concerned only with time/history (the draft riot, which is a reaction against a historical moment) and space (the gang battle, as Amsterdam Vallon actually states that the gangs at that moment had no mind for what was going on outside Five Points)?  The two cannot remain separate for long, and the temporal and spatial crash into each other as cannon fire and the militia invade Five Points.

My readings of Soja and the discussions of Gangs of New York continually brought to my mind another film, as well - Alfonso Cuarón’s Y Tu Mamá También (2001).  Space, location and the way these are inextricably tied with social conditions are at the very heart of the film.  Many reviewers have discussed the way Mexico itself becomes a character in Cuarón’s film, with the unidentified narrator providing information on other stories and larger social conditions or concerns. Even more interesting is the way Cuarón’s camera often drifts away from the main characters and the temporal narrative being told in the film to linger on a place or social interaction that has little or nothing to do with the story. For example, at a social event early in the film, the camera follows a caterer out to where the staff and chauffeurs stand waiting for their employers to finish their reveling. Both the narrator and the wandering camera (which often coincide) serve to disrupt the (necessary?) privileging of time in the film. It is an interesting way to linger on and explore the importance of space in a medium that seems so tied to the temporal.

I had intended to explore specific sequences, accompanied by video clips, but I wasn’t able to find the ones I wanted. Hopefully I will be able to track them down and come back to it later. Until then, I leave you with the trailer for Y Tu Mamá También:

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*Soja was writing in 1989 and does not engage with the postcolonial theory that had already been present and engaging with space for many years. Apparently, he and other postmodernists would often be criticized for this omission.

After over a year of protest and standing strong against my mother and sister's pleadings, I finally watched Twilight last night. The book and film series has held a bizarre fascination for me ever since an unfortunate episode at the 2008 Comic-Con International convention where a large group of fans nearly ran me over and gave me a migraine with their shrieking (they were trying to get into a line for a raffle where they might have the chance of meeting the actors). The hysteria...the deep attachment of the fans to the story...the way the audience demographic splits between teens and the "Twilight Moms"... I may not find the story interesting or of great value, but I definitely feel all the parts that make up the "phenomenon" are interesting. Thus, my decision to finally watch the first film. I have not yet watched New Moon, but plan to soon - for the sake of thoroughness.

I tried rather unsuccessfully to go in with a fairly open mind. Most of the film confirmed the picture painted for me by clips I'd seen, opinions of other viewers (both proponents and critics), and the little of the books I have read: the camera work was strange and sometimes just bad, the acting often provoked, and the screenplay seemed to do little to improve upon the weak writing of the novel. On a technical level, I've seen worse films, but rarely worse films with such a wide appeal and large box office take.

My biggest bias going into the film, though, was around the Bella/Edward relationship. I tried to clear my mind and approach it as my 13 year old sister might - as a tragic, romantic melodrama. However, when only 30 minutes into the film Edward tells Bella that she would stay away from him, I realized that I would not be able to. I can understand and appreciate the allure of the mysterious stranger - the man you just can't figure out. However, my understanding fails when that man tells you that he has to restrain himself from killing you whenever you're near (minute 53), that you can't trust him (minute 54), that he's sick and masochistic (minute 56), that he's the most dangerous predator in the world and everything about him is designed to pull you in (minute 53), explains your injuries to your family by saying you fell down two flights of stairs and through a window (minute 103), and that you are his "own personal brand of heroin" (minute 54). Ultimately, Edward himself expresses my concern during the film's first half-hour:

Edward: What if I'm not the hero? What if I'm the bad guy?

The most disturbing thing about all of this for me is that no one and nothing about the film challenges the idea that Edward and his relationship with Bella is ultimately good and romantic. The score of the film contains many discordant strains (particularly early on), but what it ultimately seems to communicate is Romance - there is a discordant, tragic theme in their relationship (she will grow old and die while he stays young, they must hide their love for much of the film), but their love is true and good. The soft focus Edward seems perpetually caught in and the way he shines or sparkles in the sun add to the image of Edward as a perfect romantic figure. And, of course, compared to the relatively "normal" and ridiculous boys Bella is surrounded with otherwise, he is. None of the characters in the film seem to have a problem with the relationship, aside from the werewolves. This seems to stem more from ancient tribal conflicts and Jacob's own romantic interest in Bella than any actual problems their relationship might pose.

I feel that there is something wrong here. Many people talk about Twilight as a Gothic romance, and that this explains away the problems in their relationship and its presentation to young women as something to which they should aspire. In my (rather limited, I admit) experiences, it seems that Gothic romances with their brooding, moody, often dangerous heroes usually present the heroes as just that - dangerous. It is not a good idea to get involved with them, and at least one character in the story makes this known. Catherine and Heathcliff's relationship in Wuthering Heights is presented as fundamentally flawed and twisted. Despite their intense attraction (love?) and attachment, it is clear to everyone that nothing good will come of it. In Jane Eyre, we have a brooding, often rude yet somehow charismatic hero, this time significantly older than his heroine - just as in Twilight. Jane does fall in love with this man, but when she finally learns of the danger to both her person (embodied in his mad, violent, and attic-confined secret wife) and her reputation, self-esteem, and values (by becoming his mistress) she decides that love is not enough and leaves. I will admit that this may have more to do with the mores of the age in which Bronte was writing, but I think it is significant that Jane evaluates the effect a liason with Rochester would have on her life. Also, her initial acceptance of her lover's proposal only comes when she can declare they are equals and she is not dependent on him (in the novel, she is able to do so through inheriting a sum of money). Jane does not revel in the power Rochester holds over her or find it romantic. While the Gothic romance shows the allure of the dark and dangerous protagonist, they do so in a way that still exposes the danger and (sometimes) borderline abusive nature of the relationship. Not so in Twilight.

This brings me to my ideas for fulfilling a requirement of my Visual Research Methods course - a video essay on/as visual culture. For my video essay, I want to explore this notion of the unhealthy or abusive nature of the Bella/Edward relationship. I want to shift the focus away from Bella, however. Many people (Twilight enthusiasts included) disparage Bella as whiny, weak, and undeserving of the (perfect, romantic, strong) men who love her. While I don't argue that there isn't validity in these arguments (I find it amusing that Bella gives advice to one of her friends about being a "strong, independent woman"), I think they mask the fact that those men send off a lot of red flags associated with abusive partners.

Thus, my thesis: While the narrative, score, and Twihards present Edward as romantic and the perfect boyfriend - something to aspire to - he much more closely resembles an abusive partner. I plan to explore this idea by opening with images of Edward fans that demonstrate the idea of Edward as romantic and the "perfect boyfriend" (a theme repeated over and over on the message boards I've visited). Ideally, I would follow this with a conversation with my mother about the abusive relationships in which she has seen her friends become involved (in the context of the National Domestic Violence Hotline's lists "Am I Being Abused?" and "Teen Dating Abuse") over scenes/images from Twilight that demonstrate the ways Edward syncs up with many descriptions of abusers. My hope is that removing Edward's actions and dialogue from the narrative and score-related constructs that construe them as "romantic" and juxtaposing them with dialogue about real-life abusive relationships will help give more light to the abusive undertones of the behavior of this "perfect" man/boyfriend. My audience for the essay would primarily be those students in my class, but I also hope it would appeal to young fans of Twilight like my sister who may not otherwise see the links between the film and patterns of abuse.

Obviously, that is a very rough sketch of the final project, but I would love to hear your thoughts!

Before I begin, I have a bit of a confession to make. I really enjoyed watching Avatar - far more than I should have, given my acute awareness of the extremely problematic noble savage-White savior-Fern Gully meets Pocahontas in space issues it raises and fails to question (not to mention the absurdly formulaic plot and the way it positions itself around gender and (dis)ability). As a film-going experience, though, I found it captivating and exciting. I still get excited when I watch the trailer and my eyes skip about the extremely rich visuals. And, while I may disagree with its presentation of the argument, I can understand Cameron's desire to draw parallels to environmental devastation and the havoc (both environmental and cultural) Western (and particularly American) society wreaks by going in with guns blazing and dollar signs in our eyes. He is very open about the fact that Avatar is a political film.

As with any film and filmmaker that claims a desire for moving people towards social change, I wonder how well Cameron achieves this. As the strengths and failings of Avatar's content are being widely discussed in classrooms, blogs, and message boards across the world, I'd like to take a little bit of a different approach. Specifically, does the hyper high definition technology work in favor of stirring up useful emotions for social change or does it actually work against it? To look at this question, I'd like to turn to every creator of avant-garde cinema or theatre's good friend (or the bane of their existence) - Bertolt Brecht.

(Image retrieved from http://faculty-staff.ou.edu/L/A-Robert.R.Lauer-1/Brecht.html)
Brecht was a fascinating and radical director and artist, believing that revolutionary theatre (and cinema) could be used to address social problems and create positive social change. I won't explicate his theories and practices too greatly here, as I'm only scratching the surface in my own reading and a quick Google search will bring up far more in-depth and eloquent summation than I can provide. Most relevant for this discussion is his firm belief that realism and all its concomitant formal and technical 'tricks' are insufficient where social change is concerned. Realistic acting, staging and costuming, an audience "lost" in the viewing experience, and (most) emotive manipulation fail to produce active, motivated audiences. The audience and their experience with the work remains tied to the theatre and does not translate to useful outrage and actions for change in the real world. Instead, Brecht favored techniques of distanciation - or distancing - whereby the audience was constantly reminded of the artifice of the work they were viewing and challenged to approach the politically-charged content on an intellectual level. "Heroes" that are difficult to sympathize with, direct addressing of the audience by the actors, songs, and textualization were just a few of the tools Brecht utilized in his efforts to politicize his audiences. While his methods have been criticized for being sometimes inaccessible to precisely the groups he wanted to reach, Brecht's approach continues to be a major influence on avant-garde cinema and theatre that seek to inspire audiences to "get up and do something" when they leave the theater.

The connection and potential conflict with Cameron's project is easily found. From Cameron's interviews, I believe it's a fair statement that the visual hyperrealism of Pandora and the Na'vi are supposed to make the horror of what the Big Bad Corporation/Western society/the American government or military strike home and raise our (the audience's) awareness/desire for change. The more beautiful and realistic the world, the more distressing it's destruction for the audience. If you connect with the characters, you are more outraged when they are burned. (Interestingly, this is implicit in the narrative of Avatar, as well. It is only by immersing himself physically that Sully can connect with the Na'vi emotionally and see the need to fight against the status quo.) It is a fairly traditional approach to filmmaking and attempting to affect the audience - and precisely what Brecht would attack about the film.

While I am drawn to Brecht's project on an intellectual level, it is difficult for me to deny the emotive power of films like Avatar (for better or worse). Perhaps it all comes down to the question of what we came out of the darkness of the movie theater thinking and feeling. Was it how atrocious the war in Iraq is? Did you come out disgusted about devastation of the rainforest and displacement of indigenous peoples? Did you write your senators, join Greenpeace, switch to fair trade-ecologically friendly products?

Or did you spend the first few minutes after the lights came back up sitting in awe while your heart stopped racing, turn to your buddy and babble about the visuals, then have a brief discussion about its racism/environmentalism/narrative predictability on the way home to continue going about your life like before?



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For anyone interested in the issues Avatar raises (or fails to), I highly recommend Film Studies for Free's recent entry on Avatar and allegory. At the end of a discussion/demystification of "allegory" is a great list of articles/reviews/resources on issues the film trudges up.

Also, it isn't scholarly in any way, but I found it rather amusing (although there is a smidge of language some might find "vulgar" or "offensive"):

Final Note: Do not be surprised if I return to this topic later. I find Brecht fascinating and full of wonderful insight and problems, and I feel this wasn't quite as eloquent and connected as I'd have liked.

I wanted to jump back into the blogging world (and academic blogging arena) with something stunning, mind-boggling, awe-inspiring......but then my time and attention became absurdly absorbed by template and layout modifications. I had completely forgotten how much fun fiddling with HTML and CSS can be (and frustrating, as well)! It took me back to my early days on Livejournal and GreatestJournal.

In the coming weeks and months (and, if anyone reads it, perhaps even years), this blog will contain thoughts, articles, and snippets related to my research, reading, and experiences in academia. For the purposes of checking formatting and getting something out there, however, this post will feature a brief blurb I did for my intentional community's blog/newsletter last year. Please keep in mind it was written for people with no film knowledge and with little to no chance they would actually care or seek out the films...

Movies You Should See - Original Classics
We complain about remakes all the time - how there's no creativity left in Hollywood, etc etc. But how many of the original films have you actually taken the time to watch? Probably not that many, so I have some suggestions to remedy that.

1. The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)
The recent Keanu Reeves remake didn't get great reviews, so maybe you think the original isn't worth your time. Wrong! This 1951 film has an entirely different tone and approach to the issue of alien visitation. Coming after WWII, the bombings of innocent civilians in Japan, and the gearing up of the nuclear arms race, TDtESS presents a much calmer, more logical and humanistic request for the human race to get itself under control. Its special effects may not stand up against today's blockbusters, but there is a tight suspense that runs throughout the film the new one cannot match.

2. Little Shop Around the Corner (1940)
Did you know that "You've Got Mail" is a remake? It shares little in common with the original film than the basic premise - two people who despise each other upon meeting are unknowingly in love in their anonymous email/letter-writing - but the humor and sweetness of the Jimmy Stewart original is well-worth the watch. It's also a little darker than Norah Ephron's take (both in Stewart's sometimes crazed facial expressions and in plot), which adds an interesting dimension. If you like musicals and want to get the full remake treatment, check out Judy Garland's remake "In the Good Old Summertime" (1949).

3. La Jetee (1962) - Okay, this one might be hard to find, but it's definitely worth the effort. A short film upon which the Bruce Willis flick "Twelve Monkeys" was based, La Jetee is a great example of the French New Wave. Clocking in at only 28 minutes, it is composed almost entirely of still photography and tells the story of a post-apocalyptic group of Parisians experimenting with time travel to find a solution to their current situation. There's a love story, some suspense, and many things to puzzle - a great miniature jaunt into art films for a novice!

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Alright! Coming up next, Brecht and Cameron: BFFs or mortal enemies? Stay tuned to find out...