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| image courtesy of imdb.com |
I was talking with my wife the other day about how in 2014 I'd hoped to see all the movies and know what was going on in the world of filmmaking. Yet, when they announced the nominations for this year's Academy Award for best picture, I sheepishly realized I hadn't seen a single one.
Before going further, I should note that I put less stock in the Oscars than the Oscars do. I don't really believe in the Academy Awards as a means of establishing who and what are the best in the business that year. I believe the Academy Awards are a means of establishing who won the Academy Award for that year, and not much else.
This is probably because I'm an underdog-snob. Usually the movies I'm rooting for win in technical departments but not much else. (Of course, there was The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, but that's another post.) So I'm aware of the awards, and I'm curious to see who won, but usually it either reinforces my skepticism over the merit vs. popularity issue or baffles me outright. In the end, the award's existence makes me aware of movies I wouldn't be aware of otherwise, so in that it's useful. (I'm not sure if that's just because I'm a slacker of an amateur movie critic or what, but so be it.)
Nevertheless, suffice to say that I felt out of touch. So help me, I at least wanted to find out if any of these movies were any good. So this evening we rented a copy of Boyhood, a film that's got pretty much universal approval from the various critical aggregates around the web, and which I felt had generally some pretty good buzz. At least I remember someone saying it was good, I'm not sure.
And we watched it. All of it. All two and three-quarter hours of it. Hoooooooaaaahh.
I guess what I'm surprised about in retrospect is how many critics recommended that I watch it. As someone who likes movies, I am glad I watched it, but I'm also glad I don't ever have to watch it again.
Did I like Boyhood? I think I did. Did I enjoy watching it? Unfortunately, no.
Did I like Boyhood? I think I did. Did I enjoy watching it? Unfortunately, no.
I don't rate myself as an experienced enough amateur movie critic to call this post a review. Generally I think it's out of line for me to hand out unfavorable reviews when I don't have any suggestions for how to make it better. And in this case the scope of the project alone daunts me into humble diffidence; I think I understand what the filmmakers were trying to do, and they took a big chance investing twelve years of time in a project that might not work out. I don't think I've ever spent twelve years working on any one thing, so my hat's off to them there.
For this reason I'm just going to call this a blog post, take it or leave it. Not a review. And since it's not a review, I won't bother with a synopsis or an introduction of who's in it as would be standard otherwise. If you haven't seen it, skip ahead to the next bold text.
But I do have experience as a movie watcher, and as a storyteller, or at least as someone who's trying to figure out what makes stories stores, and what makes good stories good. And that part of me wants to write some more about this movie, and about what went wrong (possibly) with the storytelling, and what went wrong (I think) with the critics talking about it.
For this reason I'm just going to call this a blog post, take it or leave it. Not a review. And since it's not a review, I won't bother with a synopsis or an introduction of who's in it as would be standard otherwise. If you haven't seen it, skip ahead to the next bold text.
But I do have experience as a movie watcher, and as a storyteller, or at least as someone who's trying to figure out what makes stories stores, and what makes good stories good. And that part of me wants to write some more about this movie, and about what went wrong (possibly) with the storytelling, and what went wrong (I think) with the critics talking about it.
First of all, I said before that I like it, but that I didn't enjoy it. Does a movie have to be enjoyable to be good? Of course not. City of God and Requiem for a Dream spring to mind as examples of well-known movies which are excellent but not light or easy viewing.
"But they're hard to watch for a reason!" part of me wants to say. Both movies were made to portray something the filmmakers obviously think is wrong with the world, maybe not because they're trying to fix it but because they think the wrongness is important to be known about.
Watching Boyhood, the two most frequently experienced emotions were waiting for things to happen and gut-clenching dread when they did. The drama was all on a domestic and human scale (the whole thing takes place in several cities/towns across Texas), and largely typical of many, many families in the first world today.
And the problems it conveys are real problems, that real people have to deal with all the time. I guess the main thing that bothered me about this aspect of the movie is that almost everything that goes wrong happens to side-characters, and is resolved by side-characters, while the character at the movie's focus is in the backseat, watching everything happen.
Which I guess in the long run is also fine, and true to life; all this stuff is going wrong when the main character is a kid, and you don't have control of what's happening to you when you're a kid, the grown-ups do. But is there a counter-point to this? You see the kid grow up, sure, but do you see him develop as a character? I mean, he starts talking more, but when he does, the movie noticeably changes from a quasi-documentary feel back into a movie with a script again.
Once you look past its central conceit of the time-lapse, there's not much above-average material left to the (nearly three-hour!) movie in terms of acting (Ethan Hawke excepted), or narrative structure, or cinematography, you name it. Almost every beat of the familial melodrama is slow-pitched a good fifteen minutes in advance, and the intense scenes essentially start training the viewer to feel a pang of relief when the action jumps ahead to the next stretch of time and nothing horrible wound up happening. Maybe that's just me.
"But they're hard to watch for a reason!" part of me wants to say. Both movies were made to portray something the filmmakers obviously think is wrong with the world, maybe not because they're trying to fix it but because they think the wrongness is important to be known about.
Watching Boyhood, the two most frequently experienced emotions were waiting for things to happen and gut-clenching dread when they did. The drama was all on a domestic and human scale (the whole thing takes place in several cities/towns across Texas), and largely typical of many, many families in the first world today.
And the problems it conveys are real problems, that real people have to deal with all the time. I guess the main thing that bothered me about this aspect of the movie is that almost everything that goes wrong happens to side-characters, and is resolved by side-characters, while the character at the movie's focus is in the backseat, watching everything happen.
Which I guess in the long run is also fine, and true to life; all this stuff is going wrong when the main character is a kid, and you don't have control of what's happening to you when you're a kid, the grown-ups do. But is there a counter-point to this? You see the kid grow up, sure, but do you see him develop as a character? I mean, he starts talking more, but when he does, the movie noticeably changes from a quasi-documentary feel back into a movie with a script again.
Once you look past its central conceit of the time-lapse, there's not much above-average material left to the (nearly three-hour!) movie in terms of acting (Ethan Hawke excepted), or narrative structure, or cinematography, you name it. Almost every beat of the familial melodrama is slow-pitched a good fifteen minutes in advance, and the intense scenes essentially start training the viewer to feel a pang of relief when the action jumps ahead to the next stretch of time and nothing horrible wound up happening. Maybe that's just me.
There were some things I liked about it; it played some interesting tricks with characterization in those side characters, and in that it felt very true to life a lot of the time. It has a knack for making successful people into deadbeats and deadbeats into successful people, once you get past appearances and spend time with them, sort of.
If the film makers were going for the feel of life, I think they more or less succeeded. The trouble as I see it is that life in general, and this one in particular, can largely be bland, disappointing, and unpleasant.
But if capturing life was what they meant to do, didn't they succeed?
So what's the problem, then?
First, I think the success of Boyhood on sites like Rotten Tomatoes helps illustrate one of the main things wrong with the Tamometer way of looking at movies.
As everyone knows, or should, a 100% score on Rotten Tomatoes does not mean that the movie is perfect and un-improvable. It just means that, of all critics polled, 100% gave it a "see it" rather than a "don't see it" review.
When a movie took twelve years to make, and actually winds up being pretty readable as an introductory look at the middle-developmental stages of a human in the US, I don't think there's many critics around who will say "don't see this."
Professional critics watch movies. A lot of movies. More than one a day, often, and they're writing about them all the time. Most of the time I'd say that this amount of practice gives anyone a pretty keen edge for separating good work from bad, and being able to clearly get across their reasons for thinking so in 1000 words or less (which is way more than I can say for this post, by the way).
But the one thing I think critics are genuinely unprepared for, by watching movies all the time, is for something that's actually new.
Think about it. Especially when it comes to genre movies, as most movies are, like romantic comedies, action flicks, or coming-of-age high school films, what you're likely to see will be very, very similar to what you've seen already. Producers, the people paying for the movies to get made, like successes, and formulas and tested tropes tend to succeed with us popular movie watchers way better than new things a lot of the time.
So when these poor, sensory-deprived people get hit with something as behind-the-scenes monumental as Boyhood, how can they say no?
So I dug a little deeper, and took a random sampling of the positive reviews. It's possible that the buzz was because everyone gave it a 7/10, and since EVERYONE gave it a 7/10, it's a 10/10 on Rotten Tomatoes. Right?
Wrong.
The two biggest disadvantages I think I have in not enjoying this movie is that I'm still comparatively young (this is probably naive, but I feel like my emotional/maturity age is still stuck hovering somewhere around 25) and I don't have kids of my own.
A lot of what the critics are saying about this movie as positives simply never occurred to me. People barely recognize the young man at the end of the movie, and the critic felt touched, because they watched him grow up. I didn't feel that at all.
But at least part of my suspicion plays out; most everyone talks about the technical achievement of the aging on screen, and how this changes the way you watch the movie how you watch it. I didn't get that. I think the closest I came to understanding what they're talking about is that the main person in the movie went from not talking much and having zero control over his fate to talking a lot and having (making use of??) considerably more of his fate.
So what?
Really, what's the big deal? Why am I so down on this movie? Why am I criticizing the critics?? They're better at this than I am, and they have every right to say what they said. This whole post is starting to feel like an unfortunate episode of Seinfeld where George follows some poor stranger home, to where they live, in order to have the last word on some trivial point.
I guess I'm just wary of something I've noticed time and time again in movies over the years: Importance.
Importance happens when a movie has so much buzz, either as a topically relevant biopic, or an edgy exploration of something no one wants to talk about, or some other gimmick, that no one is able to say anything bad about it while it's popular. It's too Important.
Does anyone remember Crash? Not the one about sexy car crashes (not joking) that Mr. Ebert loved and was always bringing up at the oddest times, the one from 2004 where everyone in L.A. is basically a horrible person, for different reasons. It won the Oscar for best picture, and for that reason I watched it, and I didn't like it at all. And now, today, this year, who's watching it?
A better example, if we're going to get hung up on the Oscars, is Forrest Gump, which by any measure is inferior to both Pulp Fiction and The Shawshank Redemption, both of which it beat in the box office and at the awards. It's aged okay, but it's not really the classic that everyone at the time took it for; it's mostly sort of a slide show of Things That The Baby Boomers Lived Through that will probably decrease in relevance gradually and go out as my generation exits the stage. The other two, I hope, will be remembered and watched long after that time, because they're really excellent movies and deserve attention.
Were Pulp Fiction and Shawshank important? Maybe, in a sense. Tarantino was a really big deal in the 90s, to be sure. We're still getting over how many people copied his style; remember The Boondock Saints? But Shawshank? It's typical Hollywood hogwash. It's a story with villains, and a hero, and a struggle that he's trying to overcome, and even a moral lesson. It has a narrator, for Christ's sake. If it deconstructs anything, it does so through dialogue, and by having people just say what they think, rather than obscure hints and cross-scene allusions. But it also happens to be very, very good storytelling. It's just also unimportant.
But it's entirely fruitless to get hung up on awards. Milestones are important. Writing down what movies "won the award" each year will at least give movies notice into the future, whether they win or not (probably less so now that they're nominating, what, seven or eight pictures a year? Who can keep up?).
But Boyhood feels like exactly that kind of movie. No one can say anything bad about it because they've never seen anything like it before, and probably won't again. It's this incredible mutant, half-documentary thing that was incredibly brave to make, and has the unfortunate legacy, I predict, of not eventually really having much of a point. The main character ages, we wait for him to become sympathetic and not just quiet and thoughtful, and then the script gets thoughtful, and we see more little hints of what year it is pass by, and we keep waiting.
Ultimately I think this is one instance of professional critics being short-sighted by hype, and confusing "difficult to make" with "valuable to the craft." And because this movie is unlikely to ever be made again, Unless the trend catches on, and we're all watching reality films in twelve years like we watch reality TV now, I feel like this one will be of long-term interest only to film students and their professors.
But there are lots and lots of different reasons for watching movies.
There are probably as many different reasons to watch movies as there are movies to be watched. Entertainment isn't everything.
But I suppose what I learned from all this is that I like unimportant storytelling, if it means the storytelling is good. Important will only get you so far, and then the next Important thing comes along and washes you away. Is that so bad? Not at all, especially if you're an earnest and thoughtful filmmaker with a clear goal and twelve years of perseverance.
I'm sure I'll remember Boyhood for the rest of my life, and not as a traumatic incident or anything like that. But I won't have to watch it again. And I don't think the guy who made it really wants me to, I think he would say that to make his point, one viewing is enough.
But, am I still out of touch on movies? Does anybody else who saw it feel this way?
So what's the problem, then?
First, I think the success of Boyhood on sites like Rotten Tomatoes helps illustrate one of the main things wrong with the Tamometer way of looking at movies.
As everyone knows, or should, a 100% score on Rotten Tomatoes does not mean that the movie is perfect and un-improvable. It just means that, of all critics polled, 100% gave it a "see it" rather than a "don't see it" review.
When a movie took twelve years to make, and actually winds up being pretty readable as an introductory look at the middle-developmental stages of a human in the US, I don't think there's many critics around who will say "don't see this."
Professional critics watch movies. A lot of movies. More than one a day, often, and they're writing about them all the time. Most of the time I'd say that this amount of practice gives anyone a pretty keen edge for separating good work from bad, and being able to clearly get across their reasons for thinking so in 1000 words or less (which is way more than I can say for this post, by the way).
But the one thing I think critics are genuinely unprepared for, by watching movies all the time, is for something that's actually new.
Think about it. Especially when it comes to genre movies, as most movies are, like romantic comedies, action flicks, or coming-of-age high school films, what you're likely to see will be very, very similar to what you've seen already. Producers, the people paying for the movies to get made, like successes, and formulas and tested tropes tend to succeed with us popular movie watchers way better than new things a lot of the time.
So when these poor, sensory-deprived people get hit with something as behind-the-scenes monumental as Boyhood, how can they say no?
So I dug a little deeper, and took a random sampling of the positive reviews. It's possible that the buzz was because everyone gave it a 7/10, and since EVERYONE gave it a 7/10, it's a 10/10 on Rotten Tomatoes. Right?
Wrong.
The two biggest disadvantages I think I have in not enjoying this movie is that I'm still comparatively young (this is probably naive, but I feel like my emotional/maturity age is still stuck hovering somewhere around 25) and I don't have kids of my own.
A lot of what the critics are saying about this movie as positives simply never occurred to me. People barely recognize the young man at the end of the movie, and the critic felt touched, because they watched him grow up. I didn't feel that at all.
But at least part of my suspicion plays out; most everyone talks about the technical achievement of the aging on screen, and how this changes the way you watch the movie how you watch it. I didn't get that. I think the closest I came to understanding what they're talking about is that the main person in the movie went from not talking much and having zero control over his fate to talking a lot and having (making use of??) considerably more of his fate.
So what?
Really, what's the big deal? Why am I so down on this movie? Why am I criticizing the critics?? They're better at this than I am, and they have every right to say what they said. This whole post is starting to feel like an unfortunate episode of Seinfeld where George follows some poor stranger home, to where they live, in order to have the last word on some trivial point.
I guess I'm just wary of something I've noticed time and time again in movies over the years: Importance.
Importance happens when a movie has so much buzz, either as a topically relevant biopic, or an edgy exploration of something no one wants to talk about, or some other gimmick, that no one is able to say anything bad about it while it's popular. It's too Important.
Does anyone remember Crash? Not the one about sexy car crashes (not joking) that Mr. Ebert loved and was always bringing up at the oddest times, the one from 2004 where everyone in L.A. is basically a horrible person, for different reasons. It won the Oscar for best picture, and for that reason I watched it, and I didn't like it at all. And now, today, this year, who's watching it?
A better example, if we're going to get hung up on the Oscars, is Forrest Gump, which by any measure is inferior to both Pulp Fiction and The Shawshank Redemption, both of which it beat in the box office and at the awards. It's aged okay, but it's not really the classic that everyone at the time took it for; it's mostly sort of a slide show of Things That The Baby Boomers Lived Through that will probably decrease in relevance gradually and go out as my generation exits the stage. The other two, I hope, will be remembered and watched long after that time, because they're really excellent movies and deserve attention.
Were Pulp Fiction and Shawshank important? Maybe, in a sense. Tarantino was a really big deal in the 90s, to be sure. We're still getting over how many people copied his style; remember The Boondock Saints? But Shawshank? It's typical Hollywood hogwash. It's a story with villains, and a hero, and a struggle that he's trying to overcome, and even a moral lesson. It has a narrator, for Christ's sake. If it deconstructs anything, it does so through dialogue, and by having people just say what they think, rather than obscure hints and cross-scene allusions. But it also happens to be very, very good storytelling. It's just also unimportant.
But it's entirely fruitless to get hung up on awards. Milestones are important. Writing down what movies "won the award" each year will at least give movies notice into the future, whether they win or not (probably less so now that they're nominating, what, seven or eight pictures a year? Who can keep up?).
But Boyhood feels like exactly that kind of movie. No one can say anything bad about it because they've never seen anything like it before, and probably won't again. It's this incredible mutant, half-documentary thing that was incredibly brave to make, and has the unfortunate legacy, I predict, of not eventually really having much of a point. The main character ages, we wait for him to become sympathetic and not just quiet and thoughtful, and then the script gets thoughtful, and we see more little hints of what year it is pass by, and we keep waiting.
Ultimately I think this is one instance of professional critics being short-sighted by hype, and confusing "difficult to make" with "valuable to the craft." And because this movie is unlikely to ever be made again, Unless the trend catches on, and we're all watching reality films in twelve years like we watch reality TV now, I feel like this one will be of long-term interest only to film students and their professors.
But there are lots and lots of different reasons for watching movies.
There are probably as many different reasons to watch movies as there are movies to be watched. Entertainment isn't everything.
But I suppose what I learned from all this is that I like unimportant storytelling, if it means the storytelling is good. Important will only get you so far, and then the next Important thing comes along and washes you away. Is that so bad? Not at all, especially if you're an earnest and thoughtful filmmaker with a clear goal and twelve years of perseverance.
I'm sure I'll remember Boyhood for the rest of my life, and not as a traumatic incident or anything like that. But I won't have to watch it again. And I don't think the guy who made it really wants me to, I think he would say that to make his point, one viewing is enough.
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