After a stunningly disappointing series of misses on my Netflix queue (which had me questioning by what sad criteria anything is ever "recommended" for me), I saw a couple of great movies recently. Beginning with the Denver International Film Fest kickoff of Juno, to which Lighthouse bought a block of tix. Even if you didn't stay for the all-inclusive dessert reception (and I confess, we would have had we not gorged ourselves at Tamayo beforehand), this one was worth the 35 smackers to witness (a) the Dancing Elk Condor Track team---or guys paid to impersonate the same---who preceded director Jason Reitman on stage for the intro (only imagine them each with their own personal jugs of Sunny-D),
and (b) during the Q & A afterward, an actual account of a "success story" that originates from previously thought of as time-wasting blogging. (The screenwriter for the film, Diablo Cody---who, granted, has the added benefit of being a former stripper or something---was discovered through her blog, which I've never read, but it must be something.) She was apparently hunted down by someone who spotted her innate talent, got her a book deal, then asked her to write a screenplay. So she went out and read a few screenplays to get the, you know, formula down, then wrote the 'play for Juno. See? It's easy!
With the risk of inviting the mantle of "bad taste" from one of our three readers, I'll confess that the other film I really enjoyed recently was Into the Wild. Which, yes, is kind of Hollywood (Denby in the New Yorker compared some of the shots to those one might find in an SUV commercial. I probably wept through those. What a sucker!), and yes, it was directed by the somewhat taking-thyself-a-bit-too-seriously Sean Penn. But never have I seen a hippie who was SO identical to the hippies my parents hung out with when I was a kid (i.e. Original Hippie-sters) as this guy on the left:
Mike Henry even turned to me after the movie and asked if I thought the crew went off and found an OH (still hanging out with my parents, I imagine) off the street. He deserves a best supporting actor nod or something. I heard another neg review decrying the Eddie Vedder soundtrack, something about "howling ballads," which I admit I liked. So, trust this little capsule review as far as you can throw it (but before throwing your computer, please reread section 4, line 10 of the Lighthouse disclaimer).
--AD
