The Gates: Tonight on HBO

If you're one of those very lucky people who has HBO, you should strongly consider turning on your TV tonight at 10pm and watching the TV premiere of The Gates. It follows artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude in their 26-year campaign to convince the City of New York to allow them to create a massive installation in Central Park, from their first request in 1979 to the realization of The Gates in 2005. I saw the documentary back in October at the Coolidge Corner Theatre, and I can't fathom why it wasn't nominated for a Best Documentary Oscar.

The first half of the film documents the artists' extremely long and frustrating quest to gain approval for this project, which arguably became the most successful piece of installation art in modern times. It's truly unbelievable how many art-hating, curmudgeon-y New Yorkers tried to stand in their way for no good reason, and generated a controversy out of nothing. The second half is pure aesthetic joy. I imagine it approximates the feeling of visiting The Gates in person. Don't let yourself be bored just because there's no dialog. The simple beauty of the sunlight filtering though the saffron-colored nylon, or the wind whipping through the fabric's pleats, will be more than enough for Christo and Jeanne-Claude to win you over. I recommend that you watch it in your pajamas with a glass of wine or a mug of hot chocolate, and you'll go to bed relaxed and with a smile on your face.

Here's a little preview:

Oscars Redux

Having TiVo-ed through the Oscars 24 hours after it aired (the only way to do it, in my opinion), I can only say this of the results: everything is as it should be. Jon Stewart was funny enough to earn himself another hosting gig next year. The Coen Brothers have taken up their rightful place in cinematic history (and are, appropriately, off to the races on another couple of comedies). Javier Bardem and Marion Cotillard are the hottest new commodities in Hollywood. Daniel Day-Lewis will probably give us another Oscar-worthy performance in another decade or so. Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova beat out Enchanted's three stupid nominations, and eventually, the Academy even let both of them speak. (Despite a lovely performance from the always wonderful Kristin Chenowith, it isn't even fair to call that category a competition. Where did all the good musicals go?) And Diablo Cody won without being generic. And without wearing the "pimp shooz." I think her billowy, tattoo-baring, slit-up-to-there, leopard-print dress was the best "f you" to Joan Rivers since Diane Keaton's suit.

I have to say, though, that my opinion of the Oscars is still decidedly Woody Allen-esque: they're too showy, mainly driven by market forces, and decidedly irrelevant. I mean, Miley Cyrus? She's cute and all, but come on. And Jessica Alba, despite being really pretty, shouldn't be allowed within 500 yards of a statuette until Good Luck Chuck has been erased from public consciousness. Oscar's taken out a restraining order, honey. You've been served.

The image of Diablo Cody saying "ghrgerggr" in her hotel room post-Oscars is lifted from her very entertaining MySpace blog.

WGA Victorious; AMPTP Still Kind Of Weasely

I've been so busy reading old issues of Playboy magazine these past few days (for research, seriously!) that I completely forgot to celebrate the fact that the writer's strike is officially over, as of Tuesday night. While I'm not totally convinced the AMPTP aren't still a bunch of ugly fascist weasels, I'm going to allow myself to be optimistic about the future of screenwriting. So here are the top ten things I'm looking forward to now that the strike is officially over:

10. And now, for tonight's word. Also, The Daily Show (as opposed to A Daily Show).
9. Not having to watch my fellow Americans embarrass and pimp themselves nightly on the latest insipid reality show. NBC recently purchased the rights to a new series entitled, I shit you not, Rockstar Curling. While Canadians are no doubt in a whirl of excitement over this, I think it's safe to say that this show will not resemble quality programming. They're courting either Jon Bon Jovi or Bruce Springsteen to host. Hopefully by the time it airs we'll have some marginally acceptable scripted shows to turn to instead. I'd even take another season of Big Shots over this.
8. Jurassic Park IV. Just messin' with ya there. I'm most definitely not looking forward to it. Though it actually might happen. But hopefully not.
7. The next two slaps, whenever they may come. April Slaps Day? Slapsoween? Slapsmas? Doesn't matter; I'll be there.
6. The return of Tina Fey and 30 Rock to television, because Cleveland hasn't taken nearly enough abuse yet.
5. Aaron Sorkin and Stephen Spielberg's The Trial of the Chicago Seven. Most every Sorkin product I see ends with me thumping my fist to my heart in passionate liberal pride.
4. The possibility of an Arrested Development movie, which should be extra exciting now that Michael Cera is all grown up and Jason Bateman is still really hot.
3. The Coen Brothers' A Serious Man. It sounds quirky enough to be the heir to The Big Lebowski. Joel and Ethan, if you will consider giving Jesus Quintana a cameo in this one, I promise I'll eat my own foot.
2. Joss Whedon's Dollhouse. See previous gushy post for more. Also, two of my favorite things, Joss and dance, are about to collide: he's is in the process of writing and producing some sort of ballet short with Summer Glau, who has already kicked ass with grace and style in both Serenity and Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. It'll be filmed in late Spring or early Summer. Count me giddy with anticipation!
1. Any new words that come from the pen of Diablo Cody. Apologies to Joss. I wanted to give him the number one spot, but that's reserved for witty former Minneapolis strippers with blogs called The Pussy Ranch. Diablo, I'll follow you anywhere: Movies, TV, YouTube, the cage of a hungry lion, The United States of Tara, Jennifer's Body, Girly Style, and Juno II, III, and IV. Ever since I saw Juno three times, Cody's dialogue has been subconsciously showing up in my everyday conversation with a frequency I haven't experienced since the days of Buffy. I swear, when the day comes (far, far in the future) that I become pregnant myself, I'm going to reveal this fact to everyone by proclaiming I'm "fo' shizz, up the spout."

p.s. The picture above is of Joss Whedon (wearing a Red Sox hat, natch) and Ron Moore (of Battlestar Galactica) delivering half a million fan-purchased pencils to various studios during the strike back in December. My dozen pencils are in there somewhere.

The Lives of Others

Holy Fuck.

I don't say that a lot. I try to to swear excessively. Not out of any sense of personal responsibility; I'm just a firm believer that overusing expletives will cause them to become less effective when they are truly necessary to make a point. So believe me when I plead for you to watch The Lives of Others immediately, if not sooner.

I'm a bit late to the party, I know. The movie was released in the U.S. almost a year ago; the Coolidge Corner Theater, which I mostly swear by for movie recommendations, played it for several months. It won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film in 2006. It should have won the Oscar for Best Film Ever Made, Ever, In the History of the Universe.

It's a drama/thriller about a couple in East Germany in the mid-1980s and the secret police agent who has been assigned to spy on them. In the process of listening to their conversations, arguments, and intimate moments, the agent becomes unintentionally intertwined in their lives without their knowledge. Although he is a patriotic man who believes wholeheartedly in the Communist values of the German Democratic Republic, he must also grapple with the reality of a government that fails to live up to its own ideals.

As the best movies are, this film is about human relationships, especially the nature of compassion and betrayal when a person's most unguarded moments are placed in another's trust. The story--at times suspenseful, funny, and tragic--could have been treated in a very sappy and melodramatic way. But restraint is what makes the movie great. The actors are masters of understated emotion; the script is minimal and relies on meaningful silences, visual storytelling, and a haunting original score that is actually central to the story. The artistry of the movie is achieved by a delicate layering of plot elements until they come to a shattering climax. The final twist is unexpected, yet it fits so perfectly you will find yourself wondering why you were unable to predict it.

Aside from the awesomeness of the acting, screenplay, and direction, this movie also provoked some thought on a personal level. It's a historical drama, yet it's set in my lifetime, and I know almost nothing about the reality of the Stasi in East Germany. The facts of political oppression of Communist regimes in Europe never really permeated my generation's consciousness. I remember when the Berlin wall came down, it was a cause for celebration for adults, but it didn't mean that much to me. All I knew was that we had to change the maps, and they sold pieces of the wall in little cardboard boxes in K-Mart. Yet the subject is so fresh in German minds that the film was quite controversial when it was produced in Germany. I hate to harp on the sad state of historical and political awareness on the part of Americans, but I'm glad when a story like this calls attention to aspects of our own history that have been forgotten, ignored, or just plain avoided.