Worth Melting For

by Kevin Powers

A couple weeks ago, the plan was to take our 7th graders to the park as an incentive for the kids who make good grades and have clean marks, behavior-wise. It being late March in East Tennessee, we could have never expected it to be 23 degrees that morning. So, we started the day with a viewing of Disney's Frozen. Thank heavens! It was an absolutely unexpected dose of sweetness to cure what ailments there were. The kids loved it, sang along, and I became a believer in this year's Oscar winner for Best Animated Feature. 

The best thing about Frozen is simple: it is a classic Disney musical. It fits, for me, in the same realm as the greats from Disney's renaissance of the late 80s and early 90s (see: Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, and The Lion King). It opens with a musical sequence, men chopping blocks of ice from a frozen fjord. It is set in a Scandinavian country once-upon-a-time. The opening sequence shifts to a castle where a cute little redhead named Anna wakes up her older sister to play in the wee hours of the morning. See, the older sister, the blonde Elsa, has a special magic. She can conjure up ICE. After a nearly-tragic accident, the girls' parents (the King and Queen), following the advice of the nearby trolls, begin training Elsa to hide her powers for the safety of the realm (and little Anna, whose memories have been wiped by the trolls). 

Then the music starts. "Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?" is perhaps the sweetest thing I've seen/heard in years. It serves as a time passage as Anna and Elsa grow up. Elsa hiding in her room and Anna begging for her sister back. Anna (Kristen Bell) sings through the closed door as the two grow older into adolescence, through the death of their parents, all the way to the big day...Coronation Day, where Elsa (Idina Menzel) will be crowned Queen. This sequence reminds me of the masterful time passage in Pixar's UP! That sequence will never be matched, but this one is close in its sweetness, doing a great job of creating the dynamic between the sisters. 

On Coronation Day, Anna sings her way into the sights of Hans (Santino Fontana), a young prince from The South. After a series of mishaps, misunderstandings, and disagreements between the sisters at the Coronation Ball, Else loses her grip on her powers and is forced to flee into hiding on top of the North Mountain. Anna, leaving her new beau Hans in charge, chases after her. Her journey through the wintry landscape leads her to ice-cutter Kristoff and his reindeer Sven. The three then stumble upon Olaf, the snowman of Anna and Elsa's childhood and the single most-likable character on screen last year. Together, the foursome continue their musical adventure to restore Elsa to the thrown and summer to their people. 

The animated set-pieces and action sequences find the right line between suspense and comedy, including one great piece culminating in a perfectly funny and exciting cliff jump. Elsa's "Let It Go" scene, featuring the Oscar Winning Original Song, is just beautiful. Menzel as Elsa just belts it right out as she builds her beautiful blue mountaintop ice castle. My favorite musical piece is Olaf's "In Summer." So sweet and funny. I'm sure kids just ate that one up. 

Frozen is a formulaic movie. There is nothing new, it's not completely original, and most adults will see it all coming. We know who Anna will really fall in love with. We know Elsa will come back and all will be restored. We even know the old "only love will save us" routine. That's just as well. I felt like a kid watching this movie. It is just so lovely in its icy-blue color palette, sweet little sing-alongs, and heart-"melting" one-liners. As soon as school was out that Wednesday, my wife and I went to Target and bought the Blu-Ray. One day, we'll sit back and watch our future children fall in love and sing along, and all will be right in the world for that ninety minutes of pure escape. 

A Grand Hotel Indeed

The Grand Budapest Hotel     ****

A Review by Kevin Powers

In The Royal Tenenbaums, Wes Anderson opens with a shot of a book called, well, The Royal Tenenbaums, the camera hovers directly over the top, perfectly centered as the prose written on its first page is read by the Narrator (Alec Baldwin). That opening ranks among the most memorable of any movie for me. And the story-of-a-story, or story-within-a-story, is a motif running through several of Anderson's movies, including The Fantastic Mr. Fox (based on a Roald Dahl children's book) and now, his latest, The Grand Budapest Hotel.

The idea of story-within-a-story is brought fully and clearly to life in Anderson's latest film, The Grand Budapest Hotel. With this one, Anderson does something I've never seen, out-doing himself, and many others who try this idea. Here there is a girl, somewhere in Europe, visiting a graveyard, a statue of an writer, she holds his book, The Grand Budapest Hotel. It is the 1980s. The film then cuts to Author (Tom Wilkinson) talking to a camera. He is filming promotional material for the book. This era (the 1980s) is shot in a widescreen standard 35mm aspect ratio of 1.85:1.

The Author's story then travels back in time to the 1960s, where Young Writer (Jude Law) is at the old, broken down Grand Budapest Hotel, modernized from its glory days in the 1920s and 1930s. He sees an old man sitting there in the lobby. Who is this guy? The concierge M. Jean (Jason Schwartzman) tells him it is Mr. Moustaffa (F. Murray Abraham). In the renowned Turkish Baths of the Grand Budapest, Young Author happens upon Mr. Moustaffa again. He is curious about the old man. Mr. Moustaffa invites Young Author to dinner where he will tell his story. This era (the 1960s) is shot in anamorphic 35mm widescreen, 2.35:1.

Mr. Moustaffa's story (narrated in F. Murray Abraham's oddly flat voice) will take up the better part of the running time. He tells the story of how he became the right hand of the greatest concierge the Grand Budapest had ever seen--M. Gustave H. (Ralph Fiennes), a smooth-talking yet long-winded lover of all, including the octogenarians who frequent the hotel. It is 1932 and the fascist regimes of Europe are beginning their takeover. This era (the 1930s) is shot in the original 35mm silent film ratio of 1.33:1.

To summarize (thus far), there is a girl who loves a story written by a guy shooting a promotional film from his home, who, in the 1960s, met a man who worked for a great concierge in a 1930s hotel. A story-within-a-story-within-a-story-within-a-story. I recall reading something about The Grand Budapest Hotel as one of the Russian nesting dolls. Great description! Wes Anderson is no doubt a born storyteller. He weaves details among details through shot after shot, filling every frame with things that just astound the viewer. In this one, his 8th feature film, Anderson accomplishes his greatest feat. He brings his eye for detail, his love of narrative, and the joy of live-action animation together. Is this the greatest of Anderson's work? Not for me, but that argument could certainly be made.

I don't want to offer any more details about the plot of this film. I will only add that Mr. Zero Moustaffa, at some point, became the owner of The Grand Budapest, rising as a young teenaged Lobby Boy (Tony Revolori) into the right hand of Gustave H, who becomes embroiled in a whodunit after one of his elderly lovers dies mysteriously during the final years before Europe would crumble during WWII. It, like all of Anderson's films starting with The Royal Tenenbaums, has one of the greatest ensemble casts of characters ever created and assembled. In addition to those already mentioned, here are a few names: Adrian Brody, Bill Murray, Harvey Keitel, Willem Dafoe, Jeff Goldblum, Edward Norton, Owen Wilson, on and on and on. Every performance, even those that take only 30 seconds of screen time are perfect.

I went to such great lengths earlier to describe the shifting time period aspect ratios because it is proof of the idea that Anderson's work is so great with each subsequent movie due to the addition of new tricks with each one. Wes Anderson is well-known for the distinct look and style of his movies. This one is Wes Anderson to the max.

Apart from the genius time-period shifts, The Grand Budapest Hotel contains two other noteworthy differences from anything else in the Wes Anderson filmography:  violence and action set-pieces. Now, this is not to say that there hasn't been violence or action in his movies before. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou has plenty of both. However, the way Anderson treated the violence in this movie seemed so real to me. At the same time, the action sequences seemed so obviously animated. Almost as if Anderson made a stop-motion animated movie with real actors. Here's what I mean: there are two scenes that stand out. The first one is a prison break sequence in which the camera follows four escapees in and out of windows down narrow shafts through tunnels and up through a manhole. It reminds me so much of a similar scene in Anderson's fully-stop-motion animated feature from 2009 The Fantastic Mr. Fox. Another scene is even more "animated." In the climactic action sequence of the film, Zero and M. Gustave chase the villainous Jopling (Willem Dafoe), in a sled down a steep Alpine slope. The camera is far above the action. Jopling (on skis) and the two heros (on sled) rush at cartoonish speed down the mountain. Close-ups give us the actors bodies and faces, but from above its like something out of a great animated movie. It becomes something new to add to Anderson's book of tricks. For a lover of movies, it doesn't get any better than seeing a great filmmaker just master his form, his vision coming to life.

Above all, The Grand Budapest Hotel continues Wes Anderson's quest to find the perfect balance between story and style. It is of the best narratives he's ever spun (see: Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, The Darjeeling Limited, and Moonrise Kingdom). I laughed, my heart was warmed, and I instantly wanted to see it again. Perhaps the greatest thing about Wes Anderson (and the reason he is my favorite director) is that his movies don't only reward repeated viewings but demand them. The details that fill every frame are pure imagination captured on film, and I can't wait to watch every single one them again and again. 

List: Impossible - The Films of Wes Anderson

by Kevin Powers

About two weeks ago, I posted a picture collage on Instagram with the Criterion Collection cover art of four Wes Anderson films (see above). The four in that picture are what I consider to be my favorites. Many of the movie buffs I follow on Instagram began to laud Anderson's latest film, The Grand Budapest Hotel, as his best work. At the time, I hadn't yet seen it. I since have and will discuss later in this blog post. However, I will stand by the four in the picture above as not any kind of best of but as the ones that touch me most.

I posted the following comment to accompany the Instagram post:

"I had a conversation with my wife @amvpowers today regarding Wes Anderson. We agreed that you can't really rank his films in a traditional sense. You have to categorize. This is how you do it:

The Most Personal: For me, it's Rushmore (1998)

The Coolest: The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004)

The Best as a Narrative: Moonrise Kingdom (2012)

The Best Overall (Looks, Laughs, Soundtrack, Identification with Characters): The Darjeeling Limited (2007)

Sadly, The Grand Budapest Hotel is not yet playing in Knoxville. More to come on the blog..."

I can't rationally make a ranked list of Wes Anderson's work. It just doesn't happen that way with him. Each of his films builds on the one previous creating a lasting mosaic of images in your mind. Anderson is a visual genius. His work oozes order and color and magic and animation and love. He imagines and realizes every detail of every frame of every movie he has made. He is a true artist, and his movies are funny and touching and gorgeous all at the same time.

I'll start by discussing the films not involved in my categories above.

Bottle Rocket (1996) is Anderson's first feature. He was a young, Texas filmmaker, who got a huge lucky break in the form of real studio money to make a debut. Unheard of really at the time. It is a great film containing a surprisingly powerful (and unexpected) love story at its center. It introduced us to some of the tricks we would come to adore in Anderson's subsequent work, including, foremost, characters obsessed with order and plans. It also introduced the world to brother Luke and Owen Wilson (Anderson's classmate at the University of Texas).

I think this one would go in the "cool" category. It's a unique film, something new for its time. Dignan (Owen Wilson) is the leader. He has a meticulously detailed five-year plan...and beyond. And this marks the first time we see Anderson's penchant for order and detail. Dignan's journal is one of the great things about this film. He is a character driven by an obsession for control, as all of Anderson's characters are. Dignan's goal is to commit some small burglaries and get in with the local crime boss (James Caan). Along with Anthony (Luke Wilson) and Bob Mapplethorpe (Robert Musgrave), Dignan puts the plan into action. The most memorable scenes occur early as the trio obtain some guns, and, in one of the great sequences of 1990s film, shoot them in an open field. Anderson shoots close-up on the guns, their faces. The narrative takes a really interesting shift after their first botched heist (of a library) and the film becomes this almost meandering journey through the outskirts of Dallas in the summertime. The end of Bottle Rocket always felt un-focused and messy to me. It's downfall. What it did, though, was start the career of some really great comic actors and put Wes Anderson on the map.

The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), Anderson's third feature is a pure, fully-realized blend of style and narrative. It tells the story of a wealthy family in this dreamlike New York City. The patriarch, Royal Tenenbaum (Gene Hackman) is ousted by his wife, Etheline (Angelica Huston), and, at the beginning of the film, which is narrated by Alec Baldwin, we are introduced to another of Anderson's trademarks:  the stacking of perfectly framed images in succession complete with title cards (almost as lists). It also displays, for the first time, his ability to cast the perfect ensembles of actors, which will continue through the rest of his films. This one goes in the "best overall" category.

The grown "Family of Geniuses" (the Tenenbaum children), played as adults by Ben Stiller, Luke Wilson, and Gwyneth Palrow, have lost their childhood genius in adulthood. When Royal resurfaces with new of terminal cancer, the family comes back together bringing the past to the present and struggling (hilariously) along the way. Upon first viewing The Royal Tenenbaums, I was struck by the perfect choices in soundtrack selection with songs ranging from Paul Simon's "Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard" to Nico's cover of Jackson Browne's "These Days". There are also often beautiful images, some funny, some shocking, some sad. My favorite scene has Royal showing up at the local Y to try to meet his grandsons for the first time. Bob Dylan's forgotten classic "Wigwam" plays on the soundtrack as Anderson's camera, led by cinematographer Robert Yeoman, executes this shot I'd never seen before or since. The camera zooms quickly and tightly into Royal's face then cuts and zooms sort of out and back in at the same speed to the two boys doing sit ups and pull ups on a jungle gym. It is just perfect, so memorable.

The Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009) is Anderson's first fully-animated film, live stop-motion animation. It represents to me a film in a category all its own. Being animated, it doesn't get to a personal level for me, though it is surely paced, quick-witted, and accessible to people of any age. It is an adaptation of Roald Dahl's classic children's book of the same name and works on many levels. Having now seen The Grand Budapest Hotel, I have a new outlook on this one. You'll see what I mean later.

So how did I come to certain conclusions with the four I'm saying are my favorites? Here you go:

The Most Personal

Rushmore is the second perfect movie I saw as a high school cinephile (the first is Joel and Ethan Coen's Fargo, still my favorite movie ever). It tells the story of Max Fischer (Jason Schwartzman), the kid involved in every club and extra-curricular activity with no time or interest in studying. Oh, the style! Oh, the soundtrack! Herman Blume (Bill Murray), a local millionaire, delivers a chapel address at Max's all-boys private school, Rushmore. He stands outside having a talk with Dr. Guggenheim (Brian Cox). Enter Max. He tells Mr. Blume how much he loved his speech. As Max leaves, Blume says to Guggenheim, "Sharp little guy." To which, he replies, "He's one of the worst students we've got." As The Creation's song "Making Time" plays on the soundtrack, we are introduced to Max Fischer and all of his club activities in succession complete with title cards. It was one of the best things I'd ever seen. I was totally in awe.

Max goes on to fall in love with a young Kindergarten teacher at Rushmore and ends up competing with Blume for said love. Max writes and directs plays. He gets Latin cancelled then reinstated. He is, at once, both likable and loathe-able.

It has some of the most memorable lines of any movie I've seen. "OR they?" "She's my Rushmore, Max." "I'll take punctuality." "You just have to find something you're good at and do it for the rest of your life. For me, it's going to Rushmore." It must be seen my all people and is one of the most profound movies in my movie life.

The Coolest

"Esteban was bitten!?" "No! Eaten" How great is that exchange to begin a movie. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004) features Bill Murray in the lead as a Jacques Cousteau rip-off artist who makes documentaries about his adventures at sea. His crack team of sea-faring oddities, includes a Portuguese guitar player covering David Bowie songs; his long-lost son from Kentucky, Ned (Owen Wilson); a foul-mouthed, pregnant British journalist (Cate Blanchett); a former German bus driver named Klaus (Willem Defoe); his wife, Eleanor (Angelica Huston), and his "nemesis" Hennessy (Jeff Goldblum). At the time I first saw this movie, it was the "coolest" thing I'd ever seen to that point.

There are Filipino pirate attacks, interns with guns, a topless chick, red caps and speedos, and a life-size built cutaway of the ship, The Belafonte. In one of the most genius shots ever, Anderson has his camera glide from room to room in this elaborate ship set as Steve (Murray) introduces Ned to his boat. Mark Mothersbaugh's interesting score highlights the scene that ends with a shot of an old small deep sea diver with the name "Jacqueline" marked out. "What happened to Jacqueline?" Ned asks. "She didn't really love me," Steve replies. At the end of this journey, a beautiful thing happens. The MacGuffin is revealed. What follows is so touching, it can't be described.

Many people, especially critics, hated this movie. And, for good reason... It is over-long, self-indulgent, and cost $50 million to make. Way more than any other Anderson film. It allowed him to over-do, n many ways, the tricks up his sleeve. But those tricks are memorable to me. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou is a grand piece of work. And a dude plays acoustic versions of David Bowie songs in Portuguese. Now that is cool.

The Best as a Narrative

Moonrise Kingdom tells the story of 12-year-olds in love on a small New England island town called New Penzance. Sam Shakusky (Jared Gilman) and Suzy Bishop (Kara Heyward) had met the year previous during a town school pageant. He, an orphaned Khaki scout, and she, an avid reader playing a raven in the play. We see this in flashback as they correspond and plan to meet and run away together. Anderson weaves this backstory together with ease, framing their correspondence together in perfectly framed images. At one point, Sam is writing a letter, while his "greaser" foster brothers stand in the background. It is simple, but it shows what an imagination Anderson has to add that little detail of time period to the background. 

When Sam and Susie finally meet again, it became the most fresh and magical romance I'd seen on screen in a long while. It is incredibly ridiculous and funny as well. The cast of characters rivals The Royal Tenenbaums. Bruce Willis as Police Captain Sharp, tasked with leading the search party for the missing; Bill Murray and Frances McDormand as Mr. And Mrs. Bishop, Suzy's absent-in-plain-sight, attorney parents; Ed Norton as Scout Master Ward, the man guilted and motivated by his loss of a scout; Jason Schwartzman (in a brilliant cameo) as Cousin Ben, a Scout Master from a neighboring troop, who also officiates weddings; and Bob Balaban as the coolest movie Narrator of all-time. In this regard, it works the best for me, out of all of Anderson's work, as a story. And the ending of this story is so sweet, it's hard to hate anything about it. Anderson is able to use all his tricks and fill all the frames with his idiosyncratic details while, this time, maintaining a sweet, honest coming-of-age love story. It contains the truest young love scene in any movie I've seen. I couldn't believe I was seeing it.

The Best Overall 

The Darjeeling Limited brings all of Anderson's themes together for me. The character who wants to control everything. The loss of a parent (or parents). Sadness and color and heartbreak and warmth abound. Set in present-day India, it tells the story of the three Whitman brothers: Francis (Owen Wilson), Peter (Adrien Brody), and Jack (Jason Schwartzman). They haven't seen each other in over a year, since their father died, each of them hanging on to something of their fathers. Prescription sunglasses, luggage, memories. Francis (like Dignan before him) brings the three together on a well-planned mission: To be a family again by traveling through India on a passenger train. Mishap after mishap finds them off the train and on foot in India. 

Anderson's signature slow motion comes twice in this film. The second time is the signature end scene as the brothers race to catch the train back. The first time it is after a tragic accident that brings the three brothers to a funeral. The Kinks' song "Stranger" melodically pulling them together. Just such a beautiful sequence. As they lie and connive and talk about the third brother to each other behind his back, they do come together. It is the most touching, funny, and perfect work of Anderson's for me. I want to hug these brothers, take over-the-counter codeines and codones with them, have Francis order my meal for me. It contains one of the great tracking shots of any film (and Anderson is known for his elaborate shots of this nature) in which train cars bring together all of these small characters seen throughout the film in one take in different cars to the Rolling Stones' "Play with Fire". I could go on and on about this one. 

It's companion piece plays before it. It is a short film starring Jack (Schwartzman) as he is holed up in a Paris hotel. His estranged girlfriend (Natalie Portman) shows up, they have sex, and that's it. It is, by itself, a beautiful movie, and adds a level of complexity to The Darjeeling Limited you don't notice until you watch a few times. I remember the smallest details of this film, which contains so many I couldn't even begin. I can only say that this is the one to see...

...But so are all of them...

...In my next post...The Grand Budapest Hotel and how it fits in...

To recap, categorize all of Anderson's films:

The Most Personal

Rushmore

The Coolest

Bottle Rocket
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
The Fantastic Mr. Fox

The Best as Narrative

Moonrise Kingdom
The Grand Budapest Hotel

The Best Overall

The Royal Tenenbaums
The Darjeeling Limited (w/ Hotel Chevalier)

Like It's 1999

by Kevin Powers

Two weekends ago, before March Madness took hold and at the beginning of my latest conquest of AMC's The Walking Dead, I watched two movies that have proven themselves formative in my passion for the movies. Both released in 1999 and both dealing with teenage casts, these two films stand out in the list of my favorites from high school and still today. They are vastly different, yet near and dear to me in many ways.

Sofia Coppola's directorial debut, an adaptation of Jeffrey Eugenides' novel The Virgin Suicides, is one of those films that will live in me forever. Its sounds and images forever embedded in the pantheon of my movie memory. It opens perfectly as such, a combination of moving image and music. Lux Lisbon (Kirsten Dunst) standing in the middle of a sun-drenched suburban elm-lined street finishing a lollipop, the first notes of the beautiful, modern movie score by French band, Air. The camera continues its track down that street. Men water their lawns. City workers mark elm trees to be cut down. Small set details depict the 1970s teenage girls' bedroom. Water drips from a tap. My love for music, movies, and Kirsten Dunst (my high school fantasy) all coming together.

Thus begins Sofia Coppola's lesson in adaptation of good literature. The narrator (Giovanni Ribisi) begins the voiceover that will run throughout the movie, it is Euginides' beautifully simple prose: "Cecilia was the first to go." Coppola's camera hovers over a young girl in a bathtub of bloody water. The mood and tone is set. This is a modern movie set in the 1970s about troubled youth, but it is not at all what I, or anyone else having not read the book at the time, thought it would be.

There are five Lisbon sisters, their wimp father, Mr. Lisbon (James Woods), "our math teacher," their mother, Mrs. Lisbon (Kathleen Turner), and the boys, all the boys, the neighborhood boys, infatuated by their beauty and what it represents to them. That young, intelligent, sensitive boys often spend more time daydreaming and crushing instead of acting out their emotions is not lost on Coppola or Eugenides. And that is the beauty of this film.

Trapped by their extremely overbearing mother, Mrs. Lisbon, the five blond, teenage beauties of this particular Detroit suburb circa 1975 have little contact with males their own age, especially outside of school. It is summer, and the Lisbon's decide, after Cecilia attempts suicide, they will throw their daughters a party. The neighborhood boys are all invited, each receiving meticulously detailed and glittering invitations. We see them passing to each of their hands. They show up awkwardly to the party, not knowing how to approach what they see as unattainable. They can barely even talk to the girls. Todd Rundgren's "A Dream Goes On Forever" and The Hollies' "The Air That I Breathe" play underneath. A noise is heard from outside, Cecilia has succeeded in suicide. The party is over.

After the tragedy, the remaining girls return to their private Catholic school. The boys watch them from afar. Try to talk to them and not. Taking the Eugenides' novel a step further, Coppola interweaves mockumentary-style interviews. In one scene, one of the neighborhood boys, Tim Weiner (Jonathan Tucker), looks out the window in class sees Lux Lisbon out on the lawn, some loser boy whispers in her ear, and Tim says to his buddy, "He made her laugh. I've never heard him say anything remotely intelligent." Perfect. For boys like me, just like Tim, we foolishly thought that intelligence and sensitivity would win over the beauties. Oh, how that is not the case when you're sixteen.

Enter Trip Fontaine (Josh Hartnett in a horribly bad wig), tall and lanky, star athlete, king of the ladies and the sexual conquest. Avoiding the principal, he ducks into the nearest classroom and sees her, Lux Lisbon. She ignores him. Her parents would never allow her to date. He comes over to "watch the tube." He gets in his car. Heart's "Crazy On You" on the soundtrack in one of the best matches between image and sound ever. He is as infatuated as the other boys. He will ask her to "Homecoming," the big dance. We see an adult trip in an interview remembering how much he loved her. He has aged poorly, a recovering alcoholic in a treatment facility. What happens with the boys and the girls leading up to and at the dance is just brilliant. So matter-of-fact.  I won't spoil anymore plot. It's too crazy to.

When I watched The Virgin Suicides on DVD for the first time back in 2000 (age 16), I was that neighborhood boy in infatuation. As I revisited this film many times as I grew into an adult, the greatness of this film became something more to me. This is a simple narrative not about a group of beautiful, trapped sisters but about the boys that loved them. Sofia Coppola took a really good debut novel and turned it into perfect debut film. It opens and closes with his prose and that score by Air. It was the first perfect new movie I saw as an budding adult.

I knew Tracy Flick. We all did in school. She's that girl who gets up at the crack of dawn to bake cupcakes for the voters as the SGA election season begins at Carver High School. This Carver High School is in Omaha, Nebraska. As she sets up her signature booth, her U.S. Government teacher, Mr. McAllister runs laps on the track around the football field. He showers. Puts on his tie, and makes a well-planned mess in the teacher's lounge. We are introduced for the first time to Alexander Payne's style. Simple, normal, perfect. The movie is Election.

Alexander Payne went on from there to make some of my favorite movies (Sideways, The Descendants, Nebraska). But this one, his first hit, is my favorite. This is simply due to the fact that I was there at that age in that time and place. I identify with it. As I said, I knew Tracy Flick (Reese Witherspoon), the ambitious over-achiever. And part of me wanted to be Mr. McAllister, Teacher of the Year, favorite teacher of many. I mean, I became a public school teacher.

Election is generally referred to as a political satire, and it is. The political spectrum in microcosm...a high school SGA presidential election. Flick is the front-runner and unopposed. But McAllister can't stand her. She's that kid who bounces as she raises her hand while the teacher scours for someone else to call on. She also just had an affair with Mr. McAllister's best friend and former co-worker, Dave Novotny (Mark Harelik). Bitter about his friend and stuck in a boring marriage to Diane (Molly Hagan), McAllister enlists injured, dumb, star-athlete and simpleton, Paul Metzler (Chris Klein), to run against Tracy. In a series of twists, Paul's adopted sister, Tammy (Jessica Campbell), decides to run as well. All hell breaks loose, and Tracy's dreams may just get shattered.

Adapted from a novel by Tom Perotta, Election is funny and, at times, shocking. Alexander Payne's style is part of its charm. He is just so matter-of-fact towards his characters. Often, people feel as though Payne is making fun of these salt-of-the-earth types. He is not. He loves them, so we love them. Consider a scene where the camera follows Mr. McAllister down to the basement. He opens a chest filled with old blankets, removes a false-bottom to reveal stacks of porn videos. He puts one on. Its the classic football-player (played by a forty-year-old man) and cheerleader (late twenties) scene. He sips his Pepsi and hears Tracy in his head. "Coke is by far the world's leading soft drink." Cut from the porn vid to a close-up of McAllister's face as he sips. A ding is heard on the soundtrack. "Paul," he says. Cut to footage of a skier wiping out on a steep mountain. Now, a new character is introduced and the voiceover narration (at this point only heard from McCallister and Flick) shifts to Paul, who broke his leg at a skiing trip losing any hope of playing football again.

All told, this film contains four different narrators shifting about throughout the movie. This is my favorite thing about this movie. In another scene, the night before the election, each of the four main characters say a prayer in voice over. The camera hovers above each one lying in bed, and we hear all of their shallow, desperate prayers. Simple people with simple lives and simple prayers. It is the funniest scene in the film. And Election is one of my favorite films, from then and now.

The year 1999 was a great year for movies. Alan Ball and Sam Mendes took home Oscars for the great American Beauty. Frank Darabont (developer of AMC's The Walking Dead) released his second feature and Stephen King adaptation The Green Mile. I was a sophomore in high school. I fell in love with Kirsten Dunst in my head and crushed on a girl named Amanda in real life. I worshipped Steven Spielberg and had watched all of Francis Ford Coppola's Godfather movies. But something different happened that year. I began to appreciate smaller, more personal films, including The Virgin Suicides and Election and began to understand cinema as an art form. I never knew that smaller, independent films existed. I fell in love.  

Take Me Back to the Start: A Look at HBO's True Detective

by Kevin Powers

grit·ty \ˈgri-tē\ adjective  : having strong qualities of uncompromising realism <a gritty novel>

(See also: HBO’s True Detective)

Well, what you've all heard is true, especially those of you who haven't seen it, True Detective is the most important piece of television since The Sopranos. So much so that it has given us a newish concept: The Anthology Series. That is, McConaughey and Harrelson will not do a second season. A second season will happen with different actors in a different place at a different time. This was a "finite thing" as McConaughey told Rolling Stone in a post-Best Actor Win interview. (By the way, you can expect a post-Emmy for Best Lead Actor in a Drama Series interview and statue in his Texas home come Emmy time. This is his finest work, even finer than that in Dallas Buyers Club. Who would've thought? Matthew "they stay the same age" McConaughey is one of the finest dramatic actors of his generation.) What a world all this opens up to HBO, to TV fans, to film fans, to true crime fans, to life itself. True Detective is just that good.

The "anthology" set-up allows for a full story to unfold. Yes, that silly plot diagram they taught you in middle school (see Figure A). All of its parts get filled in. The exposition, the rising actions, the shocking climaxes of episodes 4-6 (the three greatest TV episodes ever made), the falling action, the slow denouement in which a little light is finally brought into the darkness...literally. It is a sight to behold. It will be talked about for years. It will never be matched unless writer-creator Nic Pizzolatto and director Cary Fukunaga somehow outdo themselves in a second season. I was upset when this past Sunday night came and went without more. The story is over, but I want more.

Figure A.

I've decided to start at the end, discussing (lightly) each episode one at a time framed with its title and a quote from Rust Cohle (McConaughey). His now-famous soliloquies are, after all, one of the greatest aspects of this show's wonder. So, here it is:

Form and Void - "Once there was only dark. If you ask me, the light's winning."

Two middle-aged detectives have found their man after 17 years. They are both injured, nearly fatally. They look into the night sky speckled with tiny bits of light, stars, Marty Hart (Woody Harrelson) and Rust Cohle (Matthew McConaughey), and Cohle finally spills it. He is tortured by a tragic past (now 25 years gone). And he let's out with it. The Yellow King is no more. The sadness is lifted if only a little. The denouement.

At first, I felt unsatisfied. Like it was too easy. Too "light" if you will. But perhaps that's the way of things. When you journey so long and hard into torture and pain and tragedy, darkness, the end must have at least a touch of light.

After You've Gone - "Life's barely long enough to get good at one thing. So be careful what you get good at."

That Rust Cohle is such a great detective is not lost on him, or anyone else. The fact is that it's the year 2012, and he hasn't been official police for 10 years. At this point, neither has Marty. He left the Louisiana State Police CID Unit as well for the private detection world. A bit easier to stomach than being the murder police. After all these years apart, Hart lets Cohle back into his life (not really by choice, but sort of), and the hunt begins again. Cohle knows that the "man with the scars" did it. And he knows what was done. He also knows that it goes all the way to the top, to the State House, where a man named Tuttle sits, his long line of relatives into some high cultish religious stuff. It all has to do with young children, ceremonial religious sacrifice, etc. It is "deep and dark" as Cohle says previously. There is a videotape. Its contents can only be guessed at. It plays two times. Both times, it makes grown men cry and scream. The clues are all in place thanks to some shifty work at the CID offices. The falling action.

Haunted Houses - "Without me, there is no you."

2002. The falling out. Two detectives, working cases together for 7 years. Cohle knows he's the best, better than Marty. He keeps thinking that maybe back in 1995, they didn't get their guy after all. He keeps hearing about "The Yellow King." A "man with scars." He remembers things that aren't working out. He remembers the victims' names, Dora Lange, Marie Fontaineau, etc. He sees their faces. He is obsessed. One of the more shocking twists in this or any other television show is found in this episode, perhaps the darkest of the season. Hart and Cohle finally have it out. Cohle has already quit. He disappears.

If it seems as if I'm telling you too much, that's the beauty of True Detective. I could never say enough. I haven't even hinted at anything.

The Secret Fate of All Life - "So Death created Time to grow the things that it would kill."

2012. Two middle-aged detectives sit in separate rooms being questioned about what they know about a man named Reggie Ledoux, a man they pegged as the murderer they were after, the killer of Dora Lange, and possibly others.

1995. The scene of the crime. The man Hart and Cohle have been looking for is found way out in the sticks. He is a meth cook, who also dabbles in LSD. A bad man. The victims all have these two drugs in their system. This is their guy. This is the most shockingly unexpected and violent thing I've seen on television.

The middle of this episode (right in the middle of our middle school plot diagram) is our climax. Then, this show frees itself from time altogether for the next episode and a half. It is one of the most astounding things I've ever seen. If I remember correctly, I sat with my mouth gaped open, my eyes glued to the screen, and did not move a muscle for the last 30 minutes of this episode.

Who Goes There - "So, enough with the self-improvement-penance-hand-wringing shit. Let's go to work."

2012. Two middle-aged detectives sit in separate rooms being questioned about what they know about the case so far. The murder of Dora Lange. The procedural.

1995. In which Hart and Cohle catch wind of the involvement of a Texas biker gang into the meth game. Hart's marriage to Maggie (Michele Monaghan) is on the rocks. Cohle decides to go undercover. Hart will be the getaway driver. Cohle gets in with Ginger, one of the biker thugs. They go to rob a stash house in a black gang-ridden housing project. He is coked out of his mind. He is intense. The final 7 minutes is one unbroken shot in and out of houses and across yards and streets with gunshots to the heads, blood aplenty. It is the most technically sound sequence ever shot for television, and recent film history period, for that matter. It put this show on the radar of cinephiles and TV fans alike. It is glorious.

The Locked Room  - (see below)

2012. Two middle-aged detectives sit in separate rooms being questioned about what they know about the murder investigation of a woman named Dora Lange. Rust Cohle is pony-tailed, mustachioed. He looks rough. He takes long drags from his Camel Blues. He drinks Lone Star tall-boys, cuts the empty cans, and makes standing stick figures. He is haunted. He says, "To realize that all your life, all your love, all your hate, all your memories, all your pain, it was all the same thing. It was all the same dream, a dream that you had inside a locked room, a dream about being a person. And like a lot of dreams, there's a monster at the end of it."

1995. The camera glides over a small grassy hill. It slowly zooms in to reveal a man shirtless in his underwear wearing a gas mask. That shot from all the previews you've seen for months as you watched Boardwalk Empire has finally come. And True Detective has truly begun. The rising action begins.

Seeing Things - "I can't say the job made me this way. More like me being this way made me right for the job."

2012. Two middle-aged detectives sit in separate rooms being questioned about what they know about the murder of a woman named Dora Lange. Marty Hart wears a suit in his interview. He is mostly asked questions about who Rust Cohle was as a person. Hart only knows him as a great detective and an enigma.

1995. Two young detectives chase leads based around symbolic wooden stick figures found here and there. Deer antlers, creepy stuff. Newly partnered together, they have a hard time getting along. Hart is the straight family man with a younger woman on the side. Cohle is a tortured soul. He is philosophical. He has problems with drugs and alcohol. He gets to know Hart's family, a wife and two daughters. He likes them. Hart doesn't trust Cohle around his wife and kids. Maggie, Hart's wife, has a soft spot for Rust. He needs love in his life, a woman perhaps. The two find a strange piece of graffiti on an abandoned church wall. Cohle sees visions, has hallucinations. The mood is set. The exposition continues.

The Long Bright Dark - "I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution. We became too self-aware, nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself, we are creatures that should not exist by natural law."

2012. Two middle-aged detectives sit in separate rooms being questioned about what they know about a murdered woman named Dora Lange found posed on her knees in front of an old live oak. She has deer antlers on her head. Two younger detectives question Cohle and Hart separately. They have the pictures, the case files. They have a new murder that suggests some similarities to Dora Lange.

1995. Two young detectives recently partnered together share an uncomfortably silent ride to a crime scene. This new detective to the Louisiana State Police CID, Rust Cohle, is odd. He makes Marty Hart uncomfortable. They find the body. This odd new detective keeps a notebook, a full large notebook. The other detectives at the station-house find this strange, they find him strange. They make fun of him. He doesn't take notes. He draws pictures, very detailed pictures.



From the moment the opening credit sequence begins with the haunting song "Far From Any Road" by The Handsome Family, you are hooked. This show is Southern Gothic Literature to the max. It is true crime like you've never seen. It is literary. It sticks in your mind and possesses your soul. It is unlike anything I have ever seen.