One of the most Iconic Genre-defining Books of all time is Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood. It heralded the arrival of the Non-fiction Novel.

The 1967 Movie Version of this book has a unique poster. The eyes in the movie poster are actually those of the real-life killers Dick Hickock & Perry Smith (and not of the actors).

The 2007 Film An American Crime is based on the real life murder of Gertrude Baniszewski, a housewife. So, aptly, the poster pays a tribute to In Cold Blood.

Still from "The Sorcerer's Apprentice"; image courtesy of theanimationblog.com

I recently put together a post on Fantasia for Dark Room, a blog my friend Caitlin runs. As Caitlin is quite the feminist horror film scholar, her blog focuses mainly on movies and some television programs that are either scary, darkly comedic, or both. Appropriately, I wrote about how the movie in question scared me as a kid as part of an ongoing series on childhood cinematic traumas.  

It should be noted that I’m a bit of a ‘fraidy cat when it comes to horror movies. Thus, Caitlin is responsible for opening my eyes to the feminist possibilities of watching and interpreting horror. If you’re a feminist music geek who’s a bit skittish about the genre, I highly recommend reading her pieces on Dario Argento’s Opera and horror-informed music videos. I also value her assessments of TV shows like True Blood and movies like An American Crime, Palindromes, Heavenly Creatures, and Jennifer’s Body, among many others. 

And if you’re a feminist music geek who loves horror, you should already be reading Dark Room.   

James Franco, star of Pineapple Express and the aboved pictured delicious Gucci ad campaign, is taking a brief foray into the world of daytime television with a small arc on General Hospital. After years of laughing at my mother for her addiction to soap operas, I shall now become the victim to my mom’s jeers on November 23rd, the date of Franco’s first scheduled appearance.

People are talking madness about Franco’s decision to take a step backwards in a career that has been steadily progressing since his turn as a boy hooker in 2002’s “Sonny”. Franco has never been a conventional actor, mostly choosing roles in extremely offbeat movies.Please watch, “An American Crime” a.s.a.p. and join me in the hole of sadness I fell into after viewing the aforementioned movie. Franco is amazing and I look forward to seeing him invade General Hospital and turn it on it’s ass. Enjoy a Franco pic for the road.

Seems like all of my hits are coming from people who really wanna know about Ellen Page.  Well, I’ll tell you.

Ellen was born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada on February 21, 1987.

She started acting when she was ten in a television film.  In 2005 she starred in the movie Hard Candy, which, in my opinion was thoroughly effed-up, but in a completely awesome way.

She also starred in X-Men: 3, which, again in my opinion, totally sucked.  She played Kitty Pryde, the girl who can walk through walls and ice-skated with Bobby, causing Rogue to go all jealous and get the mutant-cure.  Stupid Rogue.

She won a Golden Globe and earned an Oscar nomination for her role in Juno, which was totally insanely brilliant and heart-felt.  If I do say so myself.

She was also in Smart People, An American Crime, and will be appearing with Cilian Murphy in a movie called Peacock later this year.

She’s also in Drew Berrymore’s directorial debut Whip It! which is coming out this Friday.  It looks totally awesome and I can’t wait for it!

In 2010, she’ll be costarring with Leonardo DiCaprio in a film called Inception and she’s also going to be playing Jane Eyre.  Hmmm….

On a personal note, she has a dog named Patti.

And she’s also very attractive, if you’re into that sort of quirky-girl-next-door thing.  XD  So now I’ll give you what you really want… some cute pictures.

With her boyfriend, Mark Rendall. So effing cute!

I saved the best for last... she is just SO gorgeous!

An American Crime ve Juno filmleriyle adını duyuran minyon aktris Ellen Page’in başrolünü üstlendiği Whip it filminin fragmanı yayınlandı. Drew Barrymore’u da görmek ayrı bir mutluluk tabi.

Confessions from the Ladies Room opened at the North Canton Playhouse this past weekend.  Now, as I indicated in my last entry, I wasn’t all that thrilled with how things were starting out when I joined the rest of the cast for rehearsals after David and Lisa.  I wasn’t in the mood to do an outrageous comedy (which is about the best way to describe this show) and as always, would have much rather done some revolting, Machiavellian role…say, something akin to Gertrude Baniszewski in An American Crime. 

But, I forged ahead, as we all did, and the final result is, thank God, entertaining and energetic.  Shane Riggs, the author of Confessions, came to see the Saturday night performance (Sept. 12–my birthday, incidentally) and seemed more than pleased with what we had done.  Attendance was decent over the opening weekend, despite our competing with the opening of Rent at the Players Guild of Canton on Friday and the Ohio State game on Saturday.  The opening night audience was very stoic, but Saturday and Sunday’s groups were riotous.  Which is exactly what this play needs; as with most comedies, without audience response, it is D.O.A. 

So…I’m enjoying myself, having a good time playing this rather zany and effervescent, sarcastic yet stout-hearted part, even if it is secondary to the title ladies.  And after we close this coming weekend, I plan to go into hibernation for at least five months.  The batteries need recharged so badly it’s not even funny.

WORD OF WARNING: There’s a lot of screwed up stuff discussed in this post. Beware.

My good friend Kristen sent me a link to the trailer for an indie horror film called Deadgirl. The film screened at various film festivals in the fall of 2008 and will be released at a limited number of theaters across the US tomorrow. Its concept will make many squeamish: two teenage boys discover a dead girl tied up in the basement of an old insane asylum. They soon realize that the dead girl is, in fact, undead and decide to use her as a sex toy. Play the red band trailer below for a peek:

When Kristen initially sent me the link, I wondered if I would be able to see this movie based solely on the description. Watching the trailer, however, made me reconsider. The film appears substantive in its contemplation of the moral and ethical ramifications of the boys’ actions. Like many rape-revenge narratives of the past, it also looks like the boys face grave consequences for their behavior, with the film illiciting sympathy for the monsterous dead girl a la George Romero. In short, this looks like the most promising horror premise since Teeth. But as with Teeth, I expect that Deadgirl will remain relatively obscure to most moviegoers due to the heavy subject-matter.

More female lips on my blog. This time, their on the poster for Deadgirl. Taken from Flickr.

What most fascinates me about Deadgirl is the way that it echoes famous real-life instances of sexual violence toward girls. Two cases immediately come to mind: The Fritzl case and the Sylvia Likens case. The Fritzl case occured in Amstetten, Austria, where in April 2008 a 42-year-old woman named Elisabeth Fritzl told police that her father had held her captive for 24 years in a hidden basement chamber. During that time, Elisabeth’s father repeatedly raped her, fathering seven children. Thankfully, Fritzl and her six surviving children (three of whom were raised above-ground by Elisabeth’s parents) currently live at an undisclosed location where they receive pscyhological treatment at the Austrian government’s cost. Fritzl’s father received a life sentence for his crimes.

As a film scholar and horror enthusiast, a case like this drives home the limitations of the film medium to capture the lived experience of a person like Elisabeth Fritzl. Film could never, for instance, replicate the experience of being deprived of daylight for twenty-four years. I count this as a positive since such a possibility would give the medium far more power than I am comfortable with it having. Ultimately, film can inspire sympathy, but will always fall short of evoking empathy in the viewer in cases such as this one.

This inability to fully identify with a character’s pain raises questions both philosophical and political. I am reminded specifically of Elaine Scarry’s study entitled The Body In Pain. Scarry contemplates the vulnerability of the human body and the ways in which those who suffer have a limited ability to articulate their experiences of pain. On the flip side, Scarry points out the inability of individuals to fully empathize with those in pain. The recent discussions about water-boarding in the media demonstrate this disconnect and the political consequences of our inability to understand the physical experience of drowning that results from this method of torture (See Chuck Kleinhans’ essay in Jump Cut for further reading). Similarly, while horror films clearly attempt to evoke pain for the spectator, replication will always be impossible.

What all films, including horror, can do is cultivate sympathies for characters, but how they do this and with whom we are to identify can be ideologically fraught, particularly in representations of true crimes. Specifically, the balancing of sympathies between various characters sometimes requires omitting details that occured during the actual events. For example, the 2007 film An American Crime depicts the true crime story of the torture and murder of Sylvia Likens.

In the fall of 1965, Likens died of a brain hemorrhage, shock, and malnutrition while under the care of Gertrude Baniszewski, a single mother with several children of her own who offered to take care of Likens and her sister Jenny while their parents traveled as carnival workers. After an ambulance was summoned and authorities brought to the scene, Jenny relayed the terrifying details of the events leading to Sylvia’s death. Angry at Sylvia for allegedly spreading rumors about her daughters and stealing from her, Baniszewski physically abused Sylvia. The abuse escalated and Sylvia was eventually locked in the cellar where neighborhood children beat her at Baniszewski’s behest. Baniszewski and one of the neighborhood boys carved the words “I’m a prostitute and proud of it” into Sylvia’s stomach with a hot needle, and, most notoriously, Sylvia was forced to masturbate with a Coke Bottle. An American Crime depicts or implies many of these abuses, as you can see in the trailer below:

While the spectator’s sympathies most clearly lie with Sylvia (played brilliantly by Ellen Page), a humanist approach is taken with regard to the perpetrators. Gertrude (portrayed by the talented Catherine Keener) is presented as asthmatic, overmedicated, and struggling to make ends meet. These details reflect the facts of the case and highlighting them provides insight into Baniszewski’s motivations; however, An American Crime omits some of the more grotesque details of the crime. While there may be many reasons for excising certain events (to avoid sensationalism, to keep the audience engaged with the story, etc.), I believe that one reason may be that such cruelties would jeopardize the audience’s sympathy for Gertrude and her children.

In contrast, the 2007 film The Girl Next Door, based on the Jack Ketchum novel inspired by the Likens case, takes an opposite approach in its characterizing of Sylvia’s torturers. The trailer demonstrates this difference:

Ruth (the character based on Baniszewski) lacks any kind of depth or likability. She serves the neighborhood boys beer, preaches misogyny, and abuses the angelic Meg (based on Sylvia) and her disabled sister Ann (based on Jenny). While An American Crime highlights the sexism inherent in the Likens torture and murder, The Girl Next Door takes this element up to 11 by including a scene of rape and genital mutilation. Ruth also dies at the hands of Davey, the film’s primary protagonist and narrator. As a result, Ruth takes on the qualities of a psychopathic killer who must be murdered to stop her violent rampage.

An American Crime easily tops The Girl Next Door in terms of form, content, and sophistication (in other words, I would NOT recommend the latter film). As Carol Clover points out while discussing Hollywood’s coopting of the rape-revenge subgenre, there is something gained in a broader, more nuanced treatment of violence and its social impact, but there is also something lost. At times, I felt like An American Crime tried too hard to make Baniszewski sympathetic; reading the full details of the case, I couldn’t help but see her in the monstrous light in which she was portrayed in The Girl Next Door. While I am more politically inclined toward the aims of An American Crime and find its version of the events more “true to life,” some emotional needs aren’t served with its approach.

Hence, the three films discussed in this entry differ greatly in their portrayals of those who perpetrate sex crimes against girls. Where all three of these films align is through the use of the basement to examine misogyny. That these sexual crimes take place in this underground space speaks to the hidden nature of such real life crimes. But while sexual assaults may often occur in private, the silence surrounding many of these incidents is what truly keeps these sins under wraps. All of these films grapple with the ways in which a group mentality of agreed secrecy and intentional ignorance enables such terrifying acts. I would argue that Americans perpetuate such blindness about sexual assault by refusing to acknowledge the problem. All three of these films confront these issues head-on, attempting to bring these crimes to light, to pull them out of the cellar and onto the screen.

Die Welt ist eine Collage.

In den seltensten Fällen ist Zetern wirklich angebracht, denn die meisten Filme, die es in Deutschland nicht ins Kino schaffen, gehören dort auch nicht unbedingt hin. Ausnahmen bestätigen die Regel, und dass wichtige Titel der letzten Jahre wie Terry Gilliams „Tideland“, Oliver Stones „W.“ oder gar John Woos „Red Cliff“ keine reguläre Auswertung auf hiesigen Leinwänden erfahren haben, belegt vor allem, wie unsicher die Verleiher hierzulande angesichts eines übermächtigen Blockbusterangebotes aus den USA geworden sind. Große Namen vor und hinter der Kamera garantieren keine Erfolge mehr, und so sind DVD-Premieren längst nicht mehr auf billig abgedrehte B-, C- und Z-Filme beschränkt. Echte Entdeckungen bleiben jedoch rar und gehen im Überangebot verloren, das Monat für Monat den Markt überflutet. Umso nachdrücklicher lohnt es sich, auf diesen mehrfach ausgezeichneten Independent-Film aufmerksam zu machen, der in vielerlei Hinsicht Neuland betritt und auf bemerkenswerte Weise die Grenzziehung zwischen klassischem Erzählkino und Videoinstallation entschärft. „Tracey Fragments“ ist Romanverfilmung und narratives Experiment gleichermaßen. Wer sich schon immer gefragt hat, ob das Kino überhaupt in der Lage ist, die literarisch längst gängige Annäherungen an den Bewusstseinsstrom mit eigenen Mitteln zu leisten, findet hier einen interessanten Antwortversuch. Regisseur Bruce McDonald und seine Cutter erfinden das Kino zwar nicht gleich neu, aber ihr Konzept gerät so modern und medial übergreifend, dass es auf der Leinwand eigentlich völlig deplaziert ist.

Wie so oft bei schwierigen Fällen hat die Vermarktung (jedenfalls auf dem hiesigen Markt) wenig mit dem eigentlichen Film zu tun. Wer eine konventionelle Geschichte oder auch nur eine leicht konsumierbare Machart erwartet, wird bereits nach wenigen Minuten wieder aussteigen. Richtig ist: „Tracey Fragments“ kreist um ein 15-jähriges Mädchen (Ellen Page) und ihr emotionales Chaos aus Angst, Wut, Schuldgefühlen und Zurückweisung. Eines Tages verschwindet ihr kleiner Bruder, der sich für einen Hund hält (Tracey hat ihn hypnotisiert), und die Situation gerät endgültig außer Kontrolle. Ein marodes Elternhaus, ein transsexueller Psychiater, Kleinkriminelle und Menschenhändler bilden das Ensemble – Erinnerungen, Träume, Fantastereien den Resonanzraum. Als Grundton, wenn man so will, auf den sich alle Fragmente beziehen, dient die Psyche der Hauptfigur, und dass dort Dissonanzen vorherrschen, versteht sich angesichts des Seelenlebens eines Teenagers von selbst. Die Erzählform ist es jedoch, von der her sich dieser Film definiert, und die mag so manchen befremden, der von falschen Erwartungen geleitet ist.

Dass die Geschichte in Fragmenten erzählt wird, die erst in der Zusammenschau einen schlüssigen Halt bekommen, ist eine Notwendigkeit des Drehbuchs. Maureen Medved, die auch den Roman verfasst hat, hält sich hier weitestgehend an ihre eigene Vorlage, ohne entscheidende Strukturänderungen vorzunehmen. Erst der eigentlich filmische Anteil wagt den Schritt über die bloße Adaption hinaus und nimmt sich offensichtlich ein ganz anderes literarisches Medium zum Vorbild. Das Bildkonzept beruht nämlich auf einem Panel-Prinzip, wie es sonst nur in Comics auftaucht, und wüsste man es nicht besser, könnte man meinen, McDonald hätte eine Graphic Novel umgesetzt (die tatsächlich aber erst im Anschluss an den Film entstand) – und das kongenialer als alles andere, was auf diesem Feld in den letzten Jahren auf die Leinwand gelangt ist.

Aber auch dieser Eindruck stimmt nur auf den ersten Blick. Während im Comic die Anordnung der Bilder zu einem Gitter eine zeitliche Folge impliziert, nutzt der Film die Aufteilung der Fläche in einzelne Einheiten zur parallelen Collagierung unterschiedlicher Wahrnehmungs-, Gefühls- oder Erinnerungsebenen. Der Gedanke dahinter ist von assoziativer Natur, denn erst die Gemeinsamkeit aller Elemente einer Fläche bildet die Einheit des jeweiligen Erzählmomentes. Mal wird eine und dieselbe Szene in mehrere Einstellungen und Perspektiven aufgelöst, mal stehen die einzelnen Panels in keiner direkten Beziehung zueinander, sondern ergänzen sich erst auf einer Meta-Ebene.

Der Vergleich mit ähnlichen Herangehensweisen und klassischem Split-Screen verdeutlicht diese Idee. In „24“ etwa ist der Echtzeiteffekt die treibende Kraft: Die Aufteilung des Bildschirms in das Nebenher gleicher Schauplätze zur selben Zeit dient ausschließlich der Spannungsdramaturgie. Ähnlich bei Brian de Palma: In „Sisters“ zum Beispiel ist es weniger die Zeit, die den Figuren im Nacken sitzt, sondern dasjenige, was gerade an einem anderen Schauplatz geschieht. De Palma nutzt die Spaltung der Leinwand für den Suspense-Effekt, bei dem der Zuschauer bekanntlich mehr weiß als die Protagonisten. Mike Figgis unterteilt in „Timecode“ die Bildfläche gar beständig in vier gleiche Panels. Hier ist es die Erzählnotwendigkeit, von der her sich die gewählte Struktur ergibt. Denn erst durch die gleichzeitige Wahrnehmung aller vier Handlungskomponenten erschließt sich die Geschichte. Weitere Beispiele lassen sich nach Belieben aufzählen.

Mit keinem dieser Ansätze hat „Tracey Fragments“ auch nur das Geringste gemein. Am nächsten ist der Film vielleicht noch Peter Greenaways an Größenwahn grenzenden Letterbox-Variationen aus „Prospero´s Books“, doch fungiert dort die Aufteilung der Bildfläche mehr als ästhetisches Referenzsystem und weniger als Ausdruck der Innenwelt einzelner Figuren. Mit seinem assoziativem Ansatz kehrt das Konzept von McDonald in gewissem Sinne zu den Wurzeln des Split-Screen zurück. Abel Gance hatte das Verfahren in seinem 1927er „Napoleon“-Monument zur Allegorisierung eingesetzt und aus Bildern mit voneinander unabhängigen Motiven synthetische Einheiten angedeutet (berühmtestes Beispiel: der Kopf des Kaisers sui generis auf dem Körper eines Adlers).

McDonald verfährt jedoch weitaus weniger plakativ, zugleich aber auch merklich unbestimmter. Viele Collagen wirken beim ersten Ansehen fast beliebig, andere hingegen bloß ästhetisierend. Erst beim wiederholten Betrachten erschließt sich die ungemeine Präzision, mit der die einzelnen Panels zu Einheiten montiert worden sind. Fast ein halbes Jahr hat die Postproduktion in Anspruch genommen, und umso kunstvoller ist das Ergebnis geraten. „Tracey Fragments“ erschließt sich im Detail, unabhängig von seiner schnell nacherzählten Geschichte, erst durch mehrfaches Wahrnehmen. Die DVD ist dazu tatsächlich das ideale Medium. Abschnitte herauszuheben und gesondert zu betrachten, zwischendurch anzuhalten und einzelne Bildkompositionen genauer zu analysieren, ja Kapitel gar neu anzuordnen, dazu lädt dieser Film geradezu ein.

Eine begleitende Aktion hat diesen Gedanken aufgegriffen und das gesamte Rohmaterial öffentlich freigegeben. Junge Filmemacher waren unter dem Titel „Tracey: Re-Fragmented“ dazu aufgerufen, ihre eigene Montageversion zu erstellen. Eine immense Herausforderung. Umso ernüchternder erscheinen die vergleichsweise konventionellen Ergebnisse, von denen drei dem Bonusmaterial der DVD beigefügt sind.

Im Grunde gehört „Tracey Fragments“ eher als Videoinstallation auf die Art Basel und weniger als geschlossene Einheit auf die Kinoleinwand. Zum wiederholten Ansehen prädestiniert, entwickelt der Film eine Sogwirkung, die sich vor allem dann einstellt, wenn man einzelne Abschnitte in Schleife laufen lässt. Erstaunlich ist dabei, wie unprätentiös er angesichts seines experimentellen Ansatzes wirkt, und wie nah man seiner Hauptfigur nicht nur trotz, sondern gerade wegen der sperrigen Erzählform kommt. Ein großer Anteil geht dabei unbestreitbar an die damals gerade einmal 20-jährige Ellen Page, die nicht nur völlig in ihrer Rolle aufgeht, sondern auch jetzt bereits in der Lage ist, das Echo früherer Filme („Hard Candy“, „Juno“, „An American Crime“) mit einzubringen und ihre Figuren auf diese Weise zusätzlich aufzuladen.

Artikel © 2009 Thomas Lenz. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
Filmplakat: Koch Media GmbH
Fotos © Tracey Fragments Inc.

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Diese Filmkritiken könnten Sie interessieren:

Sinopse:
Baseado na história real que chochou a nação em 1965, o filme reconstrói um dos crimes mais chocantes já cometidos a uma só vítima. Sylvia e Jennie Fae Likens, as duas filhas de um casal que trabalha com um circo são deixadas para uma estadia demorada em Indianápolis, na casa Gertrude Baniszewski, uma mãe solteira com sete crianças. Tempos difícies, e as necessidades financeiras de Gerturdes, obrigam-na a fazer este arranjo antes de perceber como esta obrigação levará sua natureza instável a um ponto de ruptura. (sic)

Um dos dogmas de qualquer igreja é: fidelidade para praticar a fé cristã na vida diária, trabalho, família e sociedade, e compromisso de pregar a toda a criatura, em palavra e exemplo. Certo? Ok, agora que concordamos com isso, vamos a minha opinião sobre o filme:

Senhora Gertrude Baniszewsky, viúva, sete filhos e doente, decidiu pregar, com a cumplicidade de todos os seus filhos, sua boa notícia a uma inocente garota de 16 anos com base na humilhação, tortura, mutilação e abuso sexual, em um bairro da cidade de Indianápolis, nos anos 60.

A menina em questão era Sylvia Likens (Ellen Page, a Juno), que se manteve nos cuidados de Gertrude com sua irmã mais nova uma vez que seus pais tiveram que sair para trabalhar durante uma temporada. Grande erro. Eles estavam deixando suas filhas nas mãos do mal encarnado, o mal de uma sociedade que justifica suas ações, alegando que essas punições eram necessárias para salvar uma alma perdida. (é sempre a mesma coisa)

O argumento poderia ser um filme horror, mas foi o que aconteceu nos Estados Unidos. Um verdadeiro ato implacável de criminalidade.

Sob a pele de cordeiro e da proteção da igreja, este crime nos dá a clara idéia do que o fanatismo aliado com doença psicológica pode fazer, também podemos observar o poder da influência materna sobre seus filhos. (aqui vem a mensagem sobre os exemplos que damos a todos aqueles que nos admiram).

Em suma, An American Crime é um filme necessário num momento em que as torturas e os abusos estão aí, batendo em nossas portas. Basta assistir os jornais nacionais e internacionais para deparar-se com estas situação frequentemente.

My son and his girlfriend have joined me in exercising to Jillian Michael’s 30 Day Shred. But, my son refused to workout with me again last night. This is how it went …

Son - I was taught in weight lifting not to use weights on the same muscle groups everyday

Me - I know, I was always told that, too. But, I had also heard somewhere that it was ok to do the 30 day shred  everyday because you are only using small weights.

Son – That’s a bunch of BS. If your muscles have pain … and mine have pain, (pointing to the flabby area we get in front of our armpits, cannot think of what the correct name for that area is?) So my muscles have torn and today they are repairing themselves.

Me – Well, you can exercise without the weights today.

Son – Yes, I guess I could do that. 

As you can see, I put “somewhere” in italics. That’s because I have no idea where I read or heard that from. Does Jillian say it on the video? Did I read it in a blog? Hmm!?! So, I again ask for input. You do not have to be a medical expert. I am just curious what you think, how you are doing the Shred, etc?

As for my thoughts on advancing to level 2 or staying on level 1 a while … after viewing the video as suggested, I am opting to stay on level 1 a few more days. I can feel myself getting better at each and every exercise and taking fewer breaks. But, I still struggle on some and I am still doing girly push ups. These next few days I am going to really push myself to move forward to better prepare myself for level 2.

Totally off the subject but definitely in my thoughts today. Has anyone seen “An American Crime?” I had never heard of Sylvia Liken or Gertrude. My son’s girlfriend bought the movie and we watched it last night. When it was over, I was in shock over her mistreatment by so many and how the circumstances were overlooked by people both young and old. Then I have to remind myself of what time period it was and how things were different then. The movie left me wanting to know the real story, so I spent much time last night scouring internet articles. I saw that there were other movies made like “The Girl Next Door.”  And several books based off of Sylvia’s story. Have you seen them or read them and would you recommend them?

[There are some women out there that we just can’t get out of our minds. No, we aren’t switching teams - yet - but we do have some serious crushes on some pretty fierce females. These ladies are all special in their own right and we aren’t ashamed to tell the world we love them.]

Ever since her role in Juno, I’ve had an unhealthy crush on Ellen Page.

While she’s not as mainstream as our past girl crushes, this doesn’t make her any less deserving of the title.  In fact, it makes me love her more. My fellow Canuck obviously has talent – she was, after all, nominated for an Oscar.  She may not have won, but she was the fourth youngest actress to be nominated for the role, and that in itself is pretty darn impressive.

And the movie was awesome. I don’t know one person who can say they saw Juno and didn’t fall instantly in love with it. Ellen played the main character perfectly and even showcased her vocal skills on the soundtrack, which is as good (if not better) than the movie. Sure, the movie sparked controversy – being all pro-teen pregnancy and all – but that’s not Ellen’s fault. Maybe people should teach their kids about sex before they let them watch movies like this. Or watch Bristol Palin on TV.

But I digress. Back to my love, Ellen Page.

Surprisingly, this isn’t the first or only movie Ellen has been in.  She totally kicked ass AND saved the day in X-Men: The Last Stand before she took on her dad’s new girlfriend while acing her SATs in Smart People.  She’s also been in Hard Candy, The Tracey Fragments, and An American Crime. Her next project is Whip-It, which is directed by Drew Barrymore. Two power girls on one project? Sounds like a winner to me.

While she may be an amazing actress, there are many other reasons why I love Ellen Page.  A self-proclaimed tomboy, Ellen usually plays it safe with basic-black on the red carpet. She’s not fashion forward, but that’s even more crush-worthy. If you’re forced to dress up when you’d rather be wearing a pair of Connies, why try and be a fashionista? She knows her style and she does it right.

Oh and did-you-know (say it fast 10x) she is hilarious? Ok, I guess everyone knows that. I mean, she was Juno. But she’s funny in real life too. And she makes it look so easy. Ellen’s just the kind of cool girl that you’d wanna kick back and have a beer (or 3) with. And I’m totally crushing.

Ellen, if you’re out there, call me! I’ll bring the guitar.

With the 2008 Presidential campaign finally over, I have been mulling over some of the stereotypes that have come out of it.  The first one that comes to mind is the myth of the ideal existence of people living in small towns.   The Republican party never tired of extolling the virtues of Joe “six pack”, hardworking people who had to work 2 jobs to make ends meet, how down to earth all these people are, and last but not least, their mascot, “Joe, the plumber”.  They called small town America, “the real America”, and inferred and sometimes outright said, that large cities were elitist and their people were out of touch.  When listening to them it might seem as if these small town people possessed virtues unlike any “big city” person could ever hope to possess.  Big city people were the “socialist monsters” that wanted to take away small down values and replace it with their big city sins.  To hear it, all small town people were sporting bright, sparkly halos and always had.

The reality, however, is much different.  Small town America has turned out many more “horrific” crimes than any large city in recent memory.

Consider the case of the Clutter family, who in 1959, were murdered in the small town of Holcomb, Kansas by two parolees, Dick Hickock and Perry Smith.  At the time, the Clutters lived in a remote rural area, and no one would suspect that such a gruesome crime would be committed there.    Such was the fascination with this story, that Truman Capote went down to Kansas to interview the murderers and spent six years working on the book that would become, In Cold Blood.  Hickock and Smith heard from a fellow inmate who had worked for Herb Clutter, that he had large amounts of cash in the house.  It started off as a robbery, but when the two men found no cash, they sadistically killed all four family members.  And by the way, the murderers were originally from small towns also.

In 1965, a single mother of a large family in Indianapolis, Indiana (a small town at the time), took in 2 girls that were daughters of carnival people.  She agreed to house them for $20 a week while the parents worked the carnival circuit.  The mother, Gertrude Banisezewski, started to torture one of the daughters about a month after they arrived, when their father did not send the $20 on time.  Even after the money arrived, Gertrude continued to torture the girl, and invited her kids and the neighbor’s kids to torture her also, which they did gladly.  About two months after the torture started, the girl, Sylvia Likens was dead.  Neighbors said later that they saw signs of abuse and heard some screams, but thought it better to “keep to themselves”.  

This is small town ideals?  You know something is wrong and you do nothing about it?

Fast forward to recent times – to April 20^th, at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado.  Two students, considered social pariahs in the affluent small town high school, went on a shooting rampage, killing 12 students and a teacher as well as wounding 23 others, before committing suicide.  The two boys were known outcasts, who wore black trench coats, and were made fun of by other students.  Both boys seemed disturbed and the teachers had to be aware of it.  One of the boys had a website where he methodically listed everything that he hated.  Both boys were allowed to buy guns even though they were known to be troubled.  Neither the parents nor the teachers did anything to protect the other students from boys that were known to be troubled.  Could it be that they refused to acknowledge that there could possibly anything that dark going on in their “small town”?  Are we again seeing that old, let’s put our heads in the sand, it will all go away, small town mentality?  

Now to the examples that the Republicans used as their ideal small town icons…..

Let’s talk about “Joe six pack”, the guy who works at a job he hates all day, doesn’t make enough money, stops off to buy his six pack on the way home, goes home to his run down house or trailer, drinks it, and then beats his wife and his kids because he is working at a job he hates for not enough money.  If his family is lucky, Joe will drink 2 cans of his six pack, go off to his second job, (which he has to work because his first employer won’t allow a union and as a result Joe is not paid a living wage)and  then drops dead of a heart attack at 50 years old.  People will mourn Joe as a good man either way, this small town icon who struggles for a living while the Republicans support union-busting and support the shipping of good jobs overseas.  Instead of giving tax breaks to businesses that would pay Joe a living wage in his small town (and possibly keep him off the sauce cause now he’s happy), the Republicans give tax breaks to the wealthy and large corporations that shipped  Joe’s good job overseas.  It makes me laugh to think that people are actually swayed by this icon, when it really is a tragic one.  They should be offended, as was an Eskimo Congressman in Alaska, who said that he felt that “Joe six pack” glorified alcoholism, which is a hidden (and sometimes not so hidden) scourge on small town America.

“Joe six pack” was made into flesh with the unveiling of the consummate Republican joke of a working man,  Joe the plumber.  When Joe was first mentioned by Senator McCain during the third and last Presidential Debate, I sat in front of my TV, wondering how Senator McCain could know so much about a guy that asked Senator Obama, and not him, a question on the campaign trail.  By the end of the debate, I realized that Joe was just a plant.  He was from a small town suburb of Toledo, Ohio, and supposedly exemplified all the traits of the “ideal” small town American.  However, when people got curious about Joe and started to delve into his background, they found the darker side of the small town.  Joe the plumber did not have a plumber’s license and neither did the guy he worked for, which really made him Joe the handyman.  The business that he told Senator Obama he wanted to buy, and that would put him into the $250,000 tax bracket, was mysteriously closed (if it ever existed at all).  It goes unsaid that Joe never had any money to buy a business in the first place.  Further exploration into Joe’s background showed his name wasn’t Joe at all, but Samuel, he had a suspended driver’s license from when he lived in Arizona (which then should have made his Ohio license null and void), and the piece de resistance, was that Joe owed back taxes and had a lien against his house as a result. 

Gee, what wonderful small town values.  What a wonderful person to hold up to the American public as the icon of small town America.  Give me a break!!

Now let me be frank and say that I am in no way inferring that people in large cities are perfect.  Anyone with half a brain can reason that there are good and bad people all over this great country and the planet.  The point that I am trying to drive home is that PLEASE don’t try and tell us that SMALL TOWN AMERICA is the real AMERICA, that their existence is Ideal,  and infer that they are better than the rest of us. 

It just ain’t so.

Having no TV (intentionally), I tend to be an avid movie watcher.  It is not unusual to find that I have seen 100% of the movies in our local video store’s (On 15th Video) “recent hits” section.  But last week I found one which I had not heard of before called “An Amercian Crime” which stars Ellen Page and Katherine Keener, two of my favs.  (Turns out I had not heard of it before because it never made it to the screen – went straight from Sundance to Showtime and then DVD.)  With a few others, I rented it.

After a somewhat busy weekend, I came home last night and decided to watch it, since Z was headed to bed and said she did not want to see it.  Well, what I though was going to be some kind of dark crime / courtroom drama turned out to be the most disturbing film I have ever seen.  It’s the true story of the (well documented) abuse and torture of a young girl (Ellen Page) by a twisted woman (Keener), her six kids, and several neighborhood locals who all get in on the “entertainment”.  I guess I need to read the descriptions on the back more carefully…

Had it been a typical fictional horror film, I would have just turned it off mid-way through: over the years my taste for gratuitous violence has waned almost completely – helped along by Zanetha’s near zero tolerance for it, which I have come to admire and respect.  But being a true story, something in me made me face the reality of it – I had to watch it to the end.  Which became increasingly hard through ever increasing fits of tears and sobs.  By the end credits, I was a complete wreck, and had to go wake Z up at 4:00 in the morning to console me and to explain the horrors I had just witnessed.  Knowing her like I do, I forbade her to see the movie under any circumstances.  I think it would do her in completely.  She had no intention of seeing it anyway.

I’m a non-violent peace-nik who espouses diplomacy, empathy and compromise as the only solution to conflict, no matter what the stakes or situation.  Well, last night I was reminded that even I have my limits: Literally, I can think of no greater horror in the known universe than the wanton, inexcusable abuse or torture of innocent children, and witnessing the extremity of this particular case brought up such extreme visions of – and desire for – medieval recompense for the perpetrators that I scared myself to my core nearly as much as the movie had.

Needless to say I got little sleep last night, and none of it restful.

It’s a very well made film.  Yet I can’t say I “recommend” seeing this film ……. unless you can “steel your courage to the sticking place” before hand, which I did not have the benefit of doing.  Like a trip to the dentist, you could go knowing it is going to hurt like hell, and you’ll be better for it when it’s over.  If that’s not for you, based on this warning, I don’t blame you one little bit.  A large part of me wishes I’d been warned, and that I hadn’t seen it.  But I wasn’t, and I did, and now it is a part of me.  And I now have appreciation for yet one more subtle shade of black I had not stared directly at before, and my rainbow color palate of Life has been expanded yet again.

So this is my friendly warning to you about this movie.  And you can choose to do with it what you will.

ps: One of the other movies I rented at the same time was a GREAT, GREAT Tarsem Singh movie called “The Fall“ which you MUST rent!  So beautiful, engrossing, well made, lyrical and intelligent.  Go get it!  It will do to you the opposite of “An American Crime”.

Juno MacGuff on sanavalmis 16-vuotias teinityttö, pamahtaa paksuksi parhaalle ystävälleen Bleekerille. Pitkän pohdinnan jälkeen Juno päättää antaa lapsen adoptoitavaksi. Hän löytää ystävänsä avustuksella täydelliset vanhemmat syntymättömälle lapselle - he ovat lapseton, varakas pariskunta Vanessa ja Mark Loring kiiltokuvamaisesta lähiöstä. Yhteinen odotus voi alkaa.

Juno valittiin vuoden parhaimmaksi indie-elokuvaksi ja se sai myös Oscarin parhaasta alkuperäisestä käsikirjoituksesta. Se oli myös Oscar-ehdokkaana kategorioissa paras elokuva, naispääosa ja ohjaus. Diablo Codyn käsikirjoitus toimii heti alkumetreillä. Jo ensimmäiset vuorosanat osoittavat, ettei elokuva tuota pettymystä katsojalle. Mateo Messinan letkeä folk/pop-musiikki on piste “iin” päällä. Elokuvan ohjauksesta vastaa Jason Reitman, jonka ensimmäinen pitkä ohjaus Thank You For Smoking oli kaupallinen menestys. Juno räjäytti kirjaimellisesti pankin, se osoitti heti ilmestymisensä jälkeen olevansa vuoden spektaakkeli.

Elokuva käy läpi 9 kuukauden ajan Junon ja hänen lähimmäistensä elämää. Näiden kuukausien aikana koetaan enemmän ja vähemmän sekavia tunteita, tutkitaan itseä ja omia tuntemuksia sekä matkataan kohti aikuisuutta. Elokuvasta löytyy hienoja juonikuvioita ja yllätyksellisyyttä. Kerrontatyyli ei saarnaa eikä kritisoi teiniraskautta, se ei myöskään kangistu stereotypioihin. Elokuva on tilannekomediaa draamalla höystettynä.

Näyttelijäsuoritukset ovat teräviä, viimeiseen asti hiottuja. Kaikki kunnia kuuluu pääosan esittäjälle, kanadalaiselle 20-vuotiaalle Ellen Pagelle, joka nähtiin myös koskettavassa elokuvassa An American Crime. Junossa Page on aikuismaisen kypsä, mutta samalla kuitenkin vielä lapsi naiivine kommentteineen. Hänen ei tarvitse yksin kantaa elokuvaa eteenpäin, sillä loistavat sivuroolit täydentävät hienosti elokuvaa. Superbadista tuttu Michael Cera esittää nörtähtävää Paulie Bleekeriä, joka ”vahingossa” saattaa ystävänsä raskaaksi. Hän tekeekin yhden elokuvan parhaimmista sivurooleista. Ozin ”Vern” Scillingerinä tunnettu J.K. Simmons on sympaattinen nallekarhu, jonka rooli on olla ymmärtäväinen ja tukeva isä. Tätä samaa sympaattisuutta huokuu myös Allison Janneyn rooli äitipuolena. Jennifer Garner ja Jason Bateman tulkitsevat lahjakkaalla tavalla lapsetonta pariskuntaa. Varsinkin Garnerille on nostettava hattua, kerrankin hänelle on suotu vähän vakavampi rooli.

Elokuva koettelee nauruhermoja, mutta saa myös silmät kostumaan koskettavuudellaan. Se käsittelee asiat tyylilleen sopivalla tavalla. Elokuvasta tullaan puhumaan pitkään, se on todellinen helmi.

Juno, 2008, Yhdysvallat, 96′
Ohjaus Jason Reitman Pääosissa Ellen Page, Michael Cera, Jennifer Garner
Arvosana 4/5

We watched An American Crime, with Ellen Page and freaking Catherine Keener. It was SOOO hard to watch. It was done really well, good good good freaking acting, but my god I will not be able to watch it a second time.  Evidently it’s all a true story about a woman who takes in 2 sisters for some extra money and tortures the shit out of them. (I’m sure Greg will write a legitimate review on this movie so check his blog) IT was awful, this bitch was so brutal, I don’t see how she could come close to ever redeeming herself with God.  God would be like uhhhh Nah, yeaaah No, still not redeemable.

Anyway so I was just kidding about how God would be, I know the Blood of Jesus will cover anything, but MAN she’ll need to lay it on THICK.

Anyway, so I recommend it. I don’t recommend buying it, because you’ll only watch it once… unless you’re a miserable psychopath.

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THEN we watched the Lost Boys 2, the electric boogaloo Tribe.

FLAT OUT SUCKED ASS

BUT I highly recommend it, because of several things.

It’s a freaking sequel to The Lost Boys.

It has Donald Sexy Sutherland’s Very attractive but very creepy son Angus in it. (wonders if he is named after the tall man or acdc) I like him.

Corey Feldman is funny and looks just like Edgar Frog from The Lost Boys.

Tom Savini gets his antisocial, “I hate my fans, but I want them to buy my shit and go to my school” head ripped off RIGHT OFF THE BAT.

AND, It’s pretty stupid but pretty funny, it still sucked, but You should watch it for sure.

So there, Greg and I fell asleep watching the Blues Brothers, a movie that we can both quote all the way through.