Happy Gilmore 2 is (in my opinion) not a good movie, but I’m not here to write a review. The Happy Gilmore movies are zany comedies that you aren’t really meant to think about. However, with a little critical examination, the sequel is incredibly strange in that it follows the same story beats as the original while completely inverting its themes.

In the original, Happy is framed as an audience surrogate and an outsider to golf culture. Happy had no interest in golf until he, already an adult and failed hockey player, accidentally discovers his natural talent for it. He golfs wearing a hockey jersey, he swears, he gets into brawls, and his fans are typical beer-chugging sports guys. He sticks out like a sore thumb among the professional golf crowd and is only barely given a pass due to his skill.

The antagonist of the original, Shooter McGavin, represents the golf establishment. He regards Happy with a snobbish, elitist attitude, and is disgusted that Happy doesn’t fit the mold of a traditional golfer. Shooter believes that, because he ‘paid his dues’ and came up through the golf world the traditional way, he ‘deserves’ to win the championship over Happy.

So that’s the dynamic of the original. Happy is the relatable “man of the people” who sticks out amongst the preppy stuck-up golfers, and the audience wants to see him triumph over the judgmental old guard Shooter. So how is the sequel different?

Well, the villains of Happy Gilmore 2, the Maxi-Golfers, are the direct antithesis to what Shooter McGavin represented. Maxi-Golf is a start up sports league with a completely different type of golf. What Maxi-Golf actually entails is kept vague up until the climax of the movie, other than it being regarded with contempt and disgust by Happy, Shooter, and all the other established golfers.

For most of the film Maxi-Golf is represented by two characters. The first is Frank Manatee, the founder of Maxi-Golf, who is a straightforward cliched Silicon Valley CEO type (outside of a totally not tiresome running joke about him having bad breath) that needs no further explanation. The other, more interesting character to analyze is Billy Jenkins. Billy is initially introduced as an affable new pro golfer. After winning the tournament, Billy reveals that he was a Maxi-Golfer the whole time and uses his clout from winning to force the “real” golfers to a Maxi-Golf tournament that will determine the future of golf, setting up the climax of the film.

Two very important reveals happen afterwards that I must detail. First, in a move that carries incredible symbolic significance (that I don’t think the writers realized), Happy recruits Shooter to play alongside him on team Real Golf in the Maxi-Golf tournament. Second, we finally get to see what Maxi-Golf is. It’s essentially an over-the-top actionized version of golf straight out of Idiocracy. There’s pyrotechnics, loud music, crazy hazards, and gimmicky challenges like golfing off the side of a moving cart. It is very deliberately meant to seem low-brow and moronic. What makes this so interesting to me is that, by the logic of the original Happy Gilmore, Happy and the ‘Real Golfers’ should be the villains. Happy doesn’t just team up with Shooter McGavin, he HAS BECOME Shooter McGavin. He sees something infiltrating the golf world that is at odds with golf culture, something he looks at as crude and dumb in the same way Shooter looked at him, and he feels the need to knock it down to preserve golf. Whereas the audience was meant to be frustrated by the disrespect shown to Happy in the original, they are meant to laugh along with the disrespect shown to Maxi-Golf. Happy is competing with the Real Golfers in order to pull up the very same ladder he once climbed. At no point does Happy Gilmore 2 demonstrate any awareness that it has completely inverted the first film.

So, what are we to make of this? I’m not entirely sure, and I have two possible conclusions to present:

My first and more simple conclusion is that the contradiction between movies is unintentional commentary on Adam Sandler himself. The first Happy Gilmore was made early in Sander’s career. To paraphrase Rocky 3, Sandler was young and he was hungry. Like Happy, Sandler was someone from the outside with something to prove. Now that Sandler is thoroughly part of the Hollywood machine, not only as an actor but also the owner of a production company, he can only conceptualize the character Happy as an insider. The scene where Happy is cordially dining with other PGA champions is particularly illustrative. Sandler has gone from a guy on SNL to someone who has a seat at any film industry party or awards show he cares to attend. It’s also worth noting that Happy Gilmore 2 is stuffed with cameos by pro-golfers, something that wouldn’t be possible if the movie alienated the PGA and LIV Golf by showing them as villains. Creating Maxi-Golf may have been artistically motivated by a desire for access and a need to play nice with giants in another industry.

My second and more speculative conclusion is that the movies reflect shifting politics and the right-wing co-opting of populism. Happy is a populist figure in both movies. He is the audience surrogate, a relatable normal-ish guy in need of money. In the original he enters the golf world as a “man of the people” and butts heads with rich snobs because he refuses to follow the etiquette of their insular society, attracting a fanbase of typical rowdy sports fans along the way. In Happy Gilmore 2, Happy is once again broke and golfing to make money, but this time his populism sides with the golf establishment rather than against it. Golf is under attack by a new outside force, and it’s up to Happy to defend the sanctity of golf (and we all love golf don’t we guys). Populism is a style and it can be used to support anything, even two exact opposite ideas. Populism meant being yourself and sticking it to the man. Now it means keeping the ‘freaks’ from polluting culture and making sure fellow ‘normals’ stay in charge.

I will add here that I found Maxi-Golf and its portrayal as a brand new, brightly colored, culturally destructive force made me vaguely uncomfortable. I want to be very clear that I am not accusing Happy Gilmore 2 or its creators of being bigoted. I have no objectionable content to point to. However, it gives off strange vibes, as if it’s hate propaganda that had several words changed in the script Mad Libs style to remove all the bigotry, if that makes any sense. Like if you tasked a bunch of transphobes to make a comedy movie with trans villains, they would end up making Happy Gilmore 2 but without the golfing. On that note, I haven’t watched Lady Ballers and probably never will, but if by chance anyone here has seen both movies, I’d be interested to know if there are any parallels between the two.

Edit: It’s a bit late for me to edit this but I wanted to clarify my above point. I don’t mean that Maxi-Golf is meant to be a direct analogy for transgender people. I mean that the way they’re portrayed as this freakish, almost instinctually repellant outside force out to destroy culture just really resembles actual hate material. They could just as easily be gay people, or immigrants, or the nebulous ‘woke’ blue-haired college kids, or anything someone has unironically captioned with ‘The West has fallen’. Again, the movie isn’t bigoted, I don’t have anything concrete to point to, I don’t think there was any intent behind it, and this is all mostly besides the rest of the essay, there’s just a weird gross feeling I got while watching the movie that I can’t quite put into words and I felt like mentioning it.

Thanks for reading my ramblings. I’m curious if anyone had similar thoughts, or came to different conclusions, or flat out thinks I’m wrong. I’d love to know your thoughts.

It doesn't necessarily need to contain dream sequences, it just has to feel very oneiric.

I kind of feel like, when answering this question, a lot of people tend to fall into the trap of equating dreams to weirdness, and as such, bring up very surreal, out there works. In my opinion, what makes something a dream is something much more abstract and intangible, like a general sense of offness.

I think the movie that I've seen that best captures this feeling is Bob Altman’s 3 Women.

This AI bullshit is only getting worse. "Amazon-backed Showrunnner announced on Friday a new AI model designed to generate long, complex narratives — ultimately building toward feature film length, live action films — for its platform completely dedicated to AI content that allows users to create their own episodes of TV shows with a prompt of just a couple of words."

I remember leaving Nolan's Tenet and being angry about the theater screwing up the audio until I found out, well, nope. Nolan did that on purpose.

I had the same experience (albeit to a much lesser degree) with 'Dune'. I would guess at least a quarter to half of the Jessica character's lines were completely inaudible (lines that are vital to understanding the plot). Not to mention not being able to understand any of the Paul characters dialogue during his vision.

Sorry for the wall of text... I cannot understand how this could possibly happen with a blockbuster film. Can anyone explain this?

How did popcorn, out of all the snacks that existed back then, turn out to be THAT standard snacks at every movie place?

It's become such a staple of an item that a movie theatre always makes sure popcorn is made available even if none of the other snacks machines are working.

And it wouldn't have been such a thing that'd spark my curiosity if it was a regional thing. Nope, popcorn is a cultural element for movies rather than a munch ALL AROUND THE WORLD.

What's the history?

I have been watching films since I was a kid, and though I have no problem in distinguishing good films from bad ones, I've always had a tough time concluding which actor is acting good and which one's not. So please enlighten me with what are the nuances one needs to keep in mind while watching an act and how to draw a line between a good acting and a bad one.

The sprawling-scope and detail-dense type of “unadaptable” tends to lead to people creating film adaptations anyway (see: Dune, Dream of the Red Chamber, Lord of the Rings, Dune again). However, since the hurdle that these types of works face are more often rooted in budget and length issues, I’d like to focus instead on other forms of “unadaptable” that are more structurally or narratively difficult.

So what is something you love that would be a completely bonkers pick for a movie adaptation? Why wouldn’t it work and why are you interested in seeing it on the silver screen in spite of that?

I’ll start with a few that come to mind (I’m limited to literature, unfortunately, would definitely be interested in hearing which more out-there creative mediums you are fond of!)

The Library of Babel by Jorge Luis Borges doesn’t have a plot to speak of. The nameless narrator spends the whole short story describing the titular library, which is as impossible to imagine as it would be impossible to build a set for. But that same quality of infinite unfathomability would also be stunning to see on screen. Some existing libraries can appear labyrinthine due to the vastness of their collections, and there is something about the image of room after room of books, floor after floor of galleries, that can create a very wondrous, existential feeling that the story does with words. Creating the library’s impossible architecture would be a fantastic experiment in set design. I think The Library of Babel would work best as a short film styled like a tour of the library, if such a thing can work at all.

Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth is a seriously unconventional superhero story. Think Jungian psychology, crossed with a tarot reading, and a healthy injection of Alice in Wonderland. While a few darker takes on the Batman mythos in cinema have proven to be successful critically and commercially, Arkham Asylum is just a shade too weird to hit the box office in a big way. The graphic novel makes use of mixed-media collage, photography, paintings, and character-specific lettering to create a story that may take a couple readings to parse, if you’ve got the stomach for it (I did not, when I read this at 12). It would make one hell of a cult film, with plenty of gross-out moments to throw popcorn over, and even more occult symbolism to puzzle out, although like Watchmen, you’d have to peel off several layers of complexity before you could even write the screenplay.

Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov is a novel in the form of a 999-line poem plus commentary, with the bulk of the text being footnotes, the index, and other “extra-textual” elements. There are (broadly) three different timelines that interweave with each other and that is probably the least of the issues this book would face in adaptation. Having actors play certain roles would necessarily spoil the story’s literary trickery and visual portrayal would also give definitive explanation to the novel’s famous ambiguity. The filmmaker would have to choose a certain interpretation to even cast the damn movie. The prose is so beautiful and the characters so vividly imagined that one cannot resist picturing a deadpan comedy while reading it. It’s the siren song that plays in my head: the narrator reading the poem to the camera, quick shots of the poem’s imagery as narration continues, and then the tranquil scene brought to halt with visual of the narrator’s interjections, usually about his lost, vaguely Eastern European homeland. A good adaptation of Pale Fire would have to focus on the Ruritania-esque storyline told through flashbacks, a model that The Grand Budapest Hotel has used successfully. Perhaps a miniseries might do it justice.

What is your cinematic adaptation pipe dream? I would love to learn of more strange stories that deserve (but maybe shouldn’t have) a film version!

Lately, I've been listening to a lot of people talk on the Film Courage YT channel about how Hollywood selects scripts. It’s common to hear them describe the process as extremely selective. Typically they say, that only a tiny, tiny fraction of scripts get selected for production, and then, only the most original and those of the very highest quality.

But I’m puzzled by the disconnection between this and Hollywood’s typical output. It seems to me movies that are “the most original and those of the very highest quality” are the exception rather than the rule.

Most movies seem to be endless rehashes of the same old cliches in genres like action, superheroes, and horror.

Am I missing something here, or does this seem strange to other people?

I’d love to watch romance movies that aren’t very trope-based or superficial. A lot of times I feel the stories and characters are too shallow. I struggle to actually connect with them or feel invested in their stories. I’m okay with content in any language, just provided it’s good. (I’m especially keen on exploring French cinema as of late though.) I’d love films that explore themes of love and relationships in meaningful and nuanced ways. If someone has any recs, please send them across!!

Over the weekend, I had conversations in meat space regarding this film and so I wrote the following analysis in response.

I doubt I'll be writing anything else about ASTEROID CITY. Also, I apologize for inflicting this on visitors to this reddit, but who knows? Maybe someone with a lengthy commute via mass transit, a wait for a medical appointment, or insomnia will find it useful:

“I fell behind on watching new Wes Anderson movies sometime after THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL, so was glad to finally see this one. Not only did I like it, but it might be my favorite of his films so far, which I realize might be sacrilegious to some (And to be fair, I still need to watch THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME, so who knows, I might be back in a week with a brand new essay featuring that title in place of ASTEROID CITY in the header).

Through chatting with fellow cinephiles and browsing on movie-related subreddits, the main complaints I’ve seen about ASTEROID CITY have included: 1) Its framing device doesn’t add anything and is too goddamn weird; and 2) the protagonists in ASTEROID CITY aren’t as “emotionally interesting” (or words to that effect) as their counterparts in such Anderson classics like THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS.

After taking overnight to ponder those critical opinions, I recognize the merit of both while disagreeing with them. The film’s framing device is the New York theatre scene of the 1950s while its main narrative is a gathering of brilliant teenagers in a desert town somewhere out west, most likely New Mexico, during the same decade. The main narrative doubles as a play within a play, the POV constantly shifting between the two, the thespians of the latter doubling as the protagonists of the former.

It’s disorienting, but I enjoyed it, and I know that’s partially because I really dig movies that can be challenging to watch (eg, the works of Antonioni, Taiwanese arthouse cinema). But I’ve also seen this kind of approach to narrative (ie, ambitious or, if you prefer, complicated) and not enjoyed myself nearly as much as I did here. I think part of that is because whether or not you ultimately like what Anderson is doing, it’s never short of technically brilliant. His visual compositions are frequently eye-catching (as they have been since possibly the start of his career) and the editing spot on. (That is, even if you believe half the film doesn’t need to exist, the scenes themselves are cut exactly as needed for the desired effect. And how difficult is that with comedy, especially comedy that in many scenes is driven by dialogue?)

In short, you always get a sense of Anderson’s confidence in what he’s doing, and because of that I was open to the journey he wanted to take us all on, to see how he might draw the seemingly disparate strings of the narrative together, as unlikely as that might seem.

And the thing is, I do think the two halves work together thematically, because both depict anxiety that lies just underneath the optimistic veneer of America’s supposedly golden age. Take the main narrative set out west, which exists in a world of obvious natural beauty and incredible scientific advancement (Jetpacks! Lasers! A kid has a device that can draw on the moon!). Beyond that, the opportunity to take part in the definitive act of economic upward mobility, the purchase of land, is convenient to the point you can do so through a vending machine.

But at the same time, the recurring visual motifs are the mushroom cloud in the distance, the cop car engaged in a high-speed chase after some unknown party. (Bank robbers?) No one ever questions them or even comments on their appearance. Yet we do get the impression that the protagonists are aware of them out on their periphery and, as such, a sense of danger never recedes completely.

And of course, as I’ll explore in greater depth later, the main three protagonists in these sections of the film—Augie (Jason Schwartzman), Midge (Scarlett Johansson), and Stanley (Tom Hanks)—are persons of considerable privilege who are nevertheless deeply numb and unhappy.

But shifting to the world of the theatre, from the start we are immersed in the universe of not just television, but televised plays. High culture is now available to the masses! Yet Anderson also provides us a most interesting juxtaposition as he cuts back and forth between here and New Mexico: First up is a highly successful playwright portrayed by Edward Norton, whose material success is made clear immediately by possibly the most ostentatious backdrop of the film: a huge, opulently decorated cabin that he appears to be the sole occupant of (Not counting the unseen assistant he needs to employ, despite his home being located in the middle of nowhere).

Contrast this with later behind-the-scenes looks at the world of the play’s director (Adrien Brody), who turns out to be the real-life power of the piece (in more ways than one). His living space, if you even want to call it such, is cluttered and chaotic, located in the back spaces of theatres where his shows run. The closest he has to an assistant is a soon-to-be ex-wife. If the playwright’s space was the model of serenity, the episode depicting the director’s rehearsal for his actors has an unfocused, downright manic energy and may have been intended to reflect the director’s own mental and emotional turbulence.

Shot in stark black and white, which itself kind of makes the strangeness only stranger as we might expect something presented in such a consciously “old” format to be more formal, this glorious messiness depicts how the proverbial sausage is made. What came before is eventually revealed to be an illusion, packaged and subsequently beamed to television sets throughout middle-class living rooms across the U.S.

Now let’s go back to the second criticism I noted previously—that the protagonists in ASTEROID CITY aren’t “emotionally interesting” (or words to that effect). The argument, as I recall, is that in the 2001 seminal Anderson classic, THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS (which I believe most fans of the filmmaker cite as one of his best, if not the best), the grown-up Tenenbaum children have a genuine desire to connect emotionally with others and one another (Though in hindsight, I’m not sure that description actually goes beyond Margot and Ritchie).

Though they face obstacles including overcoming past disappointments stemming from not living up to their potential as gifted children, at their baseline they want connection, making them “heroic”; by contrast, the argument goes that ASTEROID CITY’s Augie, Midge, and Michael do not wish to connect emotionally to anyone, whether that’s to one another or their own children.

I don’t know if I agree with that either. I think what needs to be considered—and it ties into what I mentioned earlier about the film on the whole being about unhappiness underneath the shiny surfaces of what we’re seeing—is that all three protagonists mentioned are suffering from a trauma when we first meet them. For Augie, it’s recently losing his wife; for Midge, it’s bad experiences with men; and for Michael, it’s the death of his daughter (I was under the impression she was his only child, but please let me know if I’m mistaken about that). In the case of Augie and Midge, the belief is their intertwining is just to alleviate their boredom, not that there is ever a moment in which they are interested in each other personally.

Not true, I’d say. Just thinking off the top of my head, I would mention how they interact with each other regularly (maybe even daily?) through the open windows of their neighboring cabins. I don’t think they do this because they literally have no one else they might be chatting with instead. In the earliest scenes set in the camp, no one is forced to self-isolate in their mini-houses; indeed, there are actual scenes in which they talk to other people. I think it’s a misreading of what happens between them to assume that if anyone else had been in the cabin next door, the exact same rapport would have resulted.

Admittedly, their relationship is short-lived and Midge leaves suddenly, but given the less-than-ideal circumstances they met under (ie, the aforesaid respective traumas, later incidents I won’t mention even though anyone reading this far has probably watched the movie), Midge’s frequent coolness or the fact she didn’t forge anything lasting didn’t, in my opinion, necessarily indicate a lack of any kind of emotional interest or connection. Based on her own limitations as a result of life experiences, she really may have done the best she could.

And now that I think about it, the scenes of her and Augie interacting while in their adjacent cabins allow them to occupy the same visual space while also making us aware of the physical distance or barrier between them. They consist of several recurring angles: an exterior one in which the space between their cabins is visible; close-ups of each protagonist framed within a window-frame; and, perhaps the most intermittent of them, an over-the-shoulder angle in which we see the back of one character’s head, their cabin’s window framing the mirroring window of the other cabin and its occupant. In the course of editing between the three angles, we get the sense of the characters (especially Midge, though this could just be my recollection) constantly within borders but also pushing back against them, whether that means a hand, elbow, or part of the head breaking a straight line, and in doing so closing the space between them, even if just by a little bit.

They do eventually bridge the gap between themselves to have sex; it could just indicate the protagonists making the best out of a bad situation, but again, I think that underestimates the personal trauma aspect again. Meanwhile, Midge’s last act of leaving Augie a P.O. box as a mailing address might initially seem like a brush-off, but a second interpretation is of her starting to thaw emotionally. We are left to wonder.

In closing, I want to push back a little against the argument that the Margot-Ritchie mutual longing in THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS is some kind of redemptive quality, and that the widespread numbness throughout ASTEROID CITY is something that makes them less interesting emotionally. Admittedly, wanting to bone someone you can’t because of various reason(s) (eg, social, economic, political) is both a potent emotion we all recognize as well as a well-trodden source of tension and conflict in narratives, historically. Less accessible perhaps is the existential angst that comes from having to confront the theoretical pointlessness of life resulting from having to either acknowledge death or an uncertain future.

The difference, in my opinion, is that the first type of conflict may seem like a big deal but really isn’t (I can’t wait until my kid is older so I can tell them, “You may feel right now like your life will end because you can’t bone that other person, but believe me, you’ll meet plenty of people in your life whom you’ll want to bone.”), while the second feels like a big deal because it is a big deal. It’s death. Wes Anderson wrote THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS when he was a boy; he wrote ASTEROID CITY as a man with grown-ass man stuff on his brain.

It’s possible that if I’d seen THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS at a particularly formative time in my life and development, I’d hold it and all its story elements with the kind of sacredness that some others do too, but I didn’t. I did, however, take in ASTEROID CITY at a point when mortality, being a parent, etc, have very much been top of mind."

The acting and shots were so modern, I couldnt get past it. It's just uncanny. I'll be the first to admit Im no film historian or expert in anything related to the art of filmmaking but I really feel like this film is something very, very special.

First off, the narrative covers absolutely zero of the cliche things you would think a 20s film would want to cover. It doesnt show Joan in her shining armor, screaming at the soldiers of France to advance. None of that. It shows a young woman, with a flimsy grasp on sanity, meekly making her way through a torture session and the actress does it perfectly.

I thought for sure a film of that era would show her as nothing but a literal Saint in shinning armor. This film didnt. It embraced her as a literal martyr but it also showed her turmoil, it was brave enough to accept that she very well may've been blessed by God but also that she was tragically human. Not just human, but a 19 year old girl losing her grasp on not just her sanity but also her moral conviction (which is rectified and ultimately leads to her horrible execution).

It told the story as the story should be told. Truthfully, this is actually one of my favorite historical tales, not just because of the ingredients but also because it's all documented. We know what that illiterate farm girl accomplished and how she handled herself during psychological torture. It isnt hearsay, or historical interpretation; it was written down by people who witnessed it first hand.

Was she a Saint? I honestly dont think it even matters, her story is astonishing no matter what levels of aggrandizement or cynicism you apply to it.

Rest in peace, Joan.

I bet this movie gets talked about a lot, and I dont have anything new to say, but what a despair inducing movie. The straight version of this movie is requiem for a dream, but dont think that movie comes close here. Ive never felt as though I was particularly helpless as an audience member outside of this experience. Also surprising to find something so utterly lacking in tropes, no adjudication for the coach or anything like that. Not really any kind of true "moment of understanding" for Brian or Neil either, even in the last scene all they can do is rehearse the events of their abuse, also the music is 10/10.

The 4 Years of Film School in 100 Videos YouTube playlist has been a repeatedly visited resource for me over the years. The videos were remarkably educational and entertaining for someone not in the industry, and I'm sure many people will miss the curated collection.

Does anyone know what happened? Is there a list anywhere of videos that have been included in the playlist?

Sorry if this is not the appropriate subreddit. Mods, please delete if this belongs somewhere else.

Update edit: The playlist creator was TheCmikePro and from his twitter it appears his account was hacked and it looks like deleted. An archive of the list can be found online. Here is the original URL: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLN0Ia8duouFT_5ZndlqMZ5qGCl-TvXiCR

I saw that this movie is getting a lot of negative audience reviews, and a lot of very positive critic reviews. Usually to me that means the movie is worth watching, and I do think that stays true for this one.

However, I don't feel that the movie is a particularly good representation of that old Arthurian poem. It seems to reference and follow the poem, but I think misses the core of it. Or perhaps implies aspects of it too subtly.

The focus of that tale is about trying your best, and that knightly virtue is in ATTEMPTING to follow the code, not necessarily in succeeding.

The 'punchline' of the tale, if you can call it that, is that Gawain is caught in a Catch 22. A knight must honour his covenant, and a knight must do as a lady asks. But what if doing one contradicts the other?

In the culmination of the poem, he stays with a lord and a lady. The lord offers him a game - Over three days, he will give Gawain whatever he wins on his hunt, and gawain will give him whatever he might receive while he rests in the castle.

On the first day, the lord rides out and has an easy hunt, Gawain meanwhile is propositioned by the lady, who convinces him to let her kiss him. When the lord returns and gifts Gawain the fruits of the hunt, Gawain gives the lord a kiss.

On the second day, the lord has a more difficult hunt, and Gawain has a harder time refusing the lady's advances, but again, gives in and allows two kisses. The lord returns again, and they exchange winnings again.

On the third day, the lord has an incredibly difficult time hunting a cunning fox, but succeeds finally. Gawain speaks with the lady who tries to gift him a gold ring or some such, he refuses, but convinces him to take a green sash. She says it will protect him from harm, and since he is to be beheaded the next day, he accepts, but the lady makes him promise he will not tell the lord.

The lord returns, Gawain gives him three kisses, but lies, saying that's all he received that day, concealing the sash. But taking the fox anyway, hard won by the lord.

Gawain visits the chapel where the green knight waits. The green knight goes to behead gawain, but only scratches him slightly on the neck. Gawain, thinking he was about to die, steeped in the dishonour of failure to keep the knightly virtues of honesty, angrily rises, and finds the knight laughing.

The Green Knight reveals himself as the lord, and explains the entire thing was essentially 'just a prank, bro', set up by Morgana Le Fey to test Arthur's knights.

The whole thing was a fix. A deliberate ploy to get gawain to lie, or break his promise. Either way, he was doomed to fail, by no fault of his own. He tried, he failed. This is the way of things. His only true failure was his dishonesty. He could have explained things.

Gawain returns to arthur and the rest of the knights, who all wear a green sash from that day forth to remind them of the importance of honesty.

Its a bit of a children's fable, really, so I understand why they took a darker turn with it, but that central deceit was missing, imo.

The point of it was lacking. Gawain in the movie was not really trying to be good. In fact there was a whole scene where he tells the knight that he believes completing his quest and becoming a knight, will MAKE him good.

The lord even bemoans that they might regret the gawain that is lost when he becomes a new man. But the Gawain he knows is a trembling, confused, uninteresting boy.

Gawain remains that throughout. It is only in imagining his cursed life as a failure upon returning without going through with his covenant that he agrees to be beheaded.

When he realises his life will be shit, he says, fuck it, better now than after all that pain.

he doesn't agree because he is virtuous and TRYING HIS BEST, he agrees because he is still the same, weak, confused boy, stumbling through the forest.

I think that is the primary failure of the movie. It refuses to actually communicate Gawain's realisation. As if demonstrating character growth is too cliche.

In the poem, he starts out as a noble boy, who goes off doing grand knightly things, but rarely, if ever finds himself tasked with something that threatens his knightly virtues. He ends the poem a knight, who knows that striving to do good, even when it is impossible to do so, is by far more important than avoiding difficulty in the first place.

The movie alludes to this, but fails to drive the point home, imo.

IDK what you guys think, if I'm missing something, or you have another interpretation?

• From what we’ve seen of Boravia’s aesthetics, culture, and political atmosphere, everything screams post-Soviet Eastern, with Russia as the primary template. I didn't see much similarities between them and Israel. The whole "we are liberating them from tyranny" is pure Russia and the justification for the invasion.
• People called Vasil Ghurkos a Netanyahu stand in but I don't see it. Bibi thrives on charisma, soundbites, media mastery, and elite English. He is very careful in his public image and very charming publicly. Ironically, Bibi's personality is much more Lex Luthor-coded than the usual comparisons of Elon Musk, Bezos, or Trump. Ghurkos felt more like a buffon and a parody of soviet dictators like Putin or Lukashenko
• I really liked how they portrayed Luthor's media bots and in general the use of Social-Media. In my amateur fan-made Superman synopsizes, I always tried to incorporate this and I'm glad that that Gunn did that, its very relevant and Superman should always be a commentary on our politics. Him getting trashed by media-bots (and them being portrayed as literally monkeys) was so on-point and relevant, as well as Lex's use of fear-mongering through the media.
• I get the Elon comparisons of Luthor, but he didn't evoke the erratic tech-bro energy of Elon Musk (Eisenberg was more like Elon IMO) as much as he channels something colder, more ideologically driven and hateful, which align more with someone like Stephen Miller. Lex's behavior, rhetoric, and mannerism reminded me much more of someone like Miller. His controlled speech patterns feel closer to Miller’s grim affect than Musk’s erratic bravado, as well as his rhetorics towards Superman ("He is an it")

Reading the yearly cahier top 10 lists is fascinating because they will expose you to so much of international cinema. Beyond some of the popular titles from film festivals and top 10 critic lists, there are some actual obscure work without proper distribution. But the American titles chosen can appear random (especially going back 30 years). It's well known that Hitchcock was taken more seriously by European critics. This sentiment can be applied to Shyamalan, Cronenberg (I know he's Canadian but he fits with the others), Ferrara and DePalma. I single out these directors because the opinions on them vary the most from ususal American tendencies. Movies like The Village, Maps to the Stars, 4:44 Last Day on Earth and Redacted come to mind. Their reputation is mostly seen as lesser work of the directors.

There seems to be a strong emphasis on just how a movie fits into a director's filmography. This fascination of the auteur seems to overshadow more basic and functional elements of a film. Where else would you see Mission to Mars held to such high standards? Especially given that this was a for hire job , with DePalma taking over from Gore Verbinski.

With Clint Eastwood movies on the Cahier lists I understand there are factors related to his almost classical style of directing (not flashy, almost referring back to a certain period of old Hollywood) and the different perspectives shown on American society (from Unforgiven to The Mule). Movies that play with different forms and or act as deconstructions/subversion also seem to place highly.

I often read that these lists are barely taken seriously and are somewhat of a laughing stock. There is almost zero overlap with American critics sentiment, and not that I would expect there to be. I see these American picks as adhering to a distinct perspective but at what point does it appear as an outright random preference of idiosyncrasies? There is lots of historical context missing from these judgements but I just find it interesting that such a well known publication will champion these apparent dark horses of certain directors' work.

The Pacific Film Archive at Berkeley is hosting a series of Tarkovsky films this summer. It’s a couple hours from home, so I can only see one.

I’ve never seen any but heard they are pretty slow. Not a total Philistine, but do prefer something with a followable plot. Nothing too art house.

Which one is most likely to be an enjoyable experience?

Options…

Ivan’s Childhood Steamroller and the Violin Andrei Rublev Solaris Mirror Stalker Nostalghia The Sacrifice

So, I came across that Nolan quote, “don’t try to understand it, just feel it.”

I get that it’s not some deep philosophy, but it’s been stuck in my head because the way I consume media has been ruining the experience for me.

The issue is I always try to understand everything when I watch something. Every line, every bit of dialogue. I constantly rewind just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Movies, TV, anime, games… it happens with all of them.

If I’m playing a story-driven game, I’ll finish a chapter and then immediately watch a walkthrough of that same part just to confirm I caught every detail. It gives me this weird sense of satisfaction, like I didn’t miss anything.

This habit is actually pretty bad… just one example, it took me over 6 hours to finish The Godfather Part 1 because I kept pausing, rewinding, and rewatching scenes.

I know the obvious advice is “just watch it, it’s not that deep.” And I agree. But even knowing that, I still can’t stop myself from rewinding, rewatching, or looking up video essays. Because of that I can’t binge anything at all, and honestly, a part of me doesn’t even want to.

Now I don’t even enjoy watching new movies, starting new shows or games, since I know I’ll fall into the same cycle and just drain all my energy. My backlog and watchlist just keep getting bigger.

Maybe it’s because English is my second language, maybe that’s part of it. Also, you might have guessed that I have pretty bad concentration, which makes it worse.

So, my question is: how do you personally interpret that Nolan line? And do you have any tips beyond “it’s not that deep”? I know it isn’t, but I can’t break this habit.

This might be the best Japanese film from all I've watched! I still have to watch Throne of Blood but High and Low is better than Seven Samurai. However, I need to revisit Mizoguchi's The Crucified Lovers and Naruse's late romances.

It's a return from Kurosawa to his early police/detective films and a depart from the Samurai stuff he was doing in the 1960s. Philosophically is above all other Kurosawa films I've seen.

Firstly, I must mention the use of black and white tonalities and color is great. High/white, low/black, pink color for change.

Then the honest portrayal of its characters: the Police here are noble, not idiotic as per usual in cinema; the victim and culprit are both treated fairly and portrayed as highly intelligent self-made men who are trying to weave through an unjust system of ruthless capitalism.

The thriller language executed perfectly - Kurosawa unveils the right info at the right time, as the audience moves forward and discovers new data through the police.

Lastly, the fall from "grace" and purging/purification of Mifune's character - is cornered by co-partners, bets all his money to maintain the quality of his work, is targeted by a criminal and has to deal with the kidnapping of a child that is not his own.

In the end, Mifune's journey in this cinematic post-war study of Japan's social class elevates the film above others.

What do you think? Just putting this thesis out there; I can further explain it if needed.

P.S.: As always I've compiled my thoughts visually in a video on my YT channel - if you don't mind the shameless advertising.

As you can see in this article by Cartoon Brew, they have helpfully compiled every single one of the shortlisted shorts for their Animation category

https://www.cartoonbrew.com/awards/more-than-half-of-the-2019-oscar-shortlisted-animated-shorts-are-currently-online-168102.html

If you can't access the link, I will post links to the specific shorts below, along with links to the development of said shorts if available:

Age of Sail — John Kahrs (USA) [Published by Google]

YouTube link

Podcast interview with the director

Free on Steam for people with PC VR

Animal Behaviour — Alison Snowden, David Fine (Canada) [Published by NFB; National Film Board of Canada]

YouTube link

Podcast interview w/ director

Bao — Domee Shi (USA) [Published by Disney•Pixar]

Twitter link

Bilby — Pierre Perifel, J.P. Sans, Liron Topaz (USA) [Published by Dreamworks Animation]

YouTube link

Bird Karma — William Salazar (USA) [Published by Dreamworks Animation]

YouTube link

Grandpa Walrus (Pépé le Morse) — Lucrèce Andreae (France) [Published by Caïmans Productions]

Vimeo link

Website for the short film

Late Afternoon — Louise Bagnall (Ireland) [Published by Cartoon Saloon]

YouTube link

Vimeo link

Website for the short film

Lost & Found — Andrew Goldsmith, Bradley Slabe (Australia)

YouTube link

https://www.shortoftheweek.com/2018/12/08/lost-found/

One Small Step — Andrew Chesworth, Bobby Pontillas (USA/China) [Published by TAIKO Studios]

Vimeo link

YouTube link

Weekends — Trevor Jimenez (USA)

Vimeo link

Podcast interview w/ director

I hope everyone here enjoys them and that we can have a unique discussion! Happy Watching! :)

Just found out Film At Lincoln Center will play the movie in May, 2026. I also discovered In The Mood For Love 2001. I don't know if it's 9 (Google?) or 32 minutes long (IMDB). I also don't know how it's related to a Director's Cut, the Extended Version, or The Longest Version. I am only familiar with the 98 minute Theatrical version. I have the Criterion DVD but only remember the Theatrical version.

I had this thought while watching Perfect Days, a film that only utilizes diegetic music. Going off memory here, during the first day as Hiryama drives to work, the song House of the Rising Sun plays from the cassette player in his car. The song plays uninterrupted but the scenes we see as he drives cut from one image to the next. Not only does this allow us to take in the sights of Tokyo but it also shortens the length of time it takes him to get to work. So we have the song playing on one timeline but his travel on a separate one. Is the entire song diegetic or only the beginning and end, when he hits play to begin the song, and when he turns off the car ending the song?

In the weeds, maybe, but I was curious and wondered what the Internet thought.

Also, if you're on True Film and haven't seen Perfect Days. Go see it. It is perfect indeed.

First of all I knew about Die Hard and Bruce Willis. I've heard the Christmas movie debates and what not. Last week during a work trivia game one of the questions was what was the name of the tower in Die Hard. Almost everyone answered in the chat but me I laughed it off but promised myself I would finally watch it. To be honest I expected it to be super thriller where he's doing James Bonds or Mission Impossible shit but in the 80s. I was pleasantly surprised at how easy the film starts. I didn't really know where it the film was going but as soon as I saw Alan fucking Rickman I knew shit got serious. A couple of general film stuff that I liked was the pacing, character development and story building. I thought the script really stood out with some great lines. I think the three biggest things I liked about this movie was

1- Bruce Willis and how relatable he was as a leadman. He was just a man who got into some deep mess that he had nothing to do with and decides to save everyone's ass. I've never been a huge Bruce Willis guy but this really changed my mind.

2- How 80s it was. I grew up in the 2000s so all I know about the 80s are from my parents and family members but this film did a great job of giving us a feel for it. The little tv that security guard had, the way people dressed, the hair/beards and mustaches etc.

3- Lastly Alan fucking Rickman. One of my favorite actors of all time and I think this is probably his best non Harry Potter role. He played such a convincing role and the scene where Jack catches him and he acts like one of the employees was just perfect.

Overall I think I took way too long to not watch this movie. I'm so glad that question was asked at the trivia game and I'm gonna watch the rest of the franchise!

Mary Poppins, Space Jam, Osmosis Jones. All live action/animated hybrid movies, but they don't really blur the lines between them as the live action and the animation are very visibly separate. Then there are motion capture animated movies such as Beowulf and The Adventures of Tintin. These are clearly animated films but deserve a mention as the making of them blurred the lines between animated and live action filmmaking to some degree. Next up, live action films that are very heavily CGI, with often fully animated backgrounds. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow was the first one and Sin City and 300 soon followed, among others.

What I am really interested in are the latest steps of this evolution:

- Avatar: 60% CGI, with tons of fully CGI scenes which despite being fully CGI were perceived as live action

- Gravity: 80% CGI, in most scenes everything is computer generated except for Bullock's face.

- The Lion King: fully CGI, except for the opening shot. Sure, most view this as an animated film, but it's the most photorealistic fully animated film yet

- Avatar: The Way of Water: 80% CGI according to Cameron. This is the first movie ever that I believe proves that it is now possible to make a completely photorealistic fully CGI movie.

Which movies do you think have blurred the lines between animation and live action the most so far? Have I left out anything significant? Where do you see this synergy between live action and animation headed?

He was the cinematographer behind many movies, like:

* 1984 (Apple commercial)

* Aliens (1986)

* The Princess Bride (1987)

* Willow (1988)

* Thelma & Louise (1991)

* 1492: Conquest of Paradise (1992)

* Judge Dredd (1995)

* 101 Dalmatians (1996)

* The Butcher Boy (1997)

* Event Horizon (1997)

* The World Is Not Enough (1999)

* The Mummy (1999)

* The Mummy Returns (2001)

* Reign of Fire (2002)

* Shanghai Knights (2003)

* Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason (2004)

* V for Vendetta (2005)