the groundhog day project

Headline from HuffPo : Did Back to the Future Originally End With 'To be Continued'? They say no. I say, fuck HuffPo , fuck whatever Mandela Effect reality you all are from, it was there on the big screen in my head, and was not some thing they added for VHS. I mean, sure we must've rented the movie to watch again at home once it was on video, and I'm sure the copy we dubbed off cable (Or maybe off the rental tape, not that I will admit that we ever did that, you know, with the bit of tape over that little indent on the one side so the machine can make a copy... Or was it breaking the tab in the indent and hoping the rental place didn't notice? I can't actually remember that bit because I have recorded things from one tape to another, entirely legally, so many times that I forgot how to do it illegally. Not that I am admitting that I ever knew how to do it illegally.) included the TO BE CONTINUED and I saw the VHS copy more than I ever saw the movie i...

I should talk about the merchandising. But, 1) I don't think I'd have much to add that won't be covered by some other stuff I'll say below, and 2) I'd rather start with Artoo. Because I realized something yesterday. When Artoo gets shot at the end of the movie, when they're attacking the Death Star, it's tragic, sure. Artoo is funny... although watching the film again these past few days after not watching in a while, Threepio is funnier. "No, I don't like you either" is a great line, with fantastic delivery. And Luke clearly is attached to him, and a little too attached to Obi-Wan as well--seriously, he grieves for that old guy he met in a cave just--as far as we know the way the movie plays out--this morning, or maybe it was yesterday, more than he grieves for Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen, and maybe Uncle Owen was hard on him, but Aunt Beru seemed like a sweet woman who would always offer up a nice cold glass of (blue) bantha milk when you were t...

Our progress so far in this deconstruction: (All, in theory, of course. Plus, it's basically a chicken or the egg problem; like, did I like movies about rebels and outcasts because I already had the interest, or was it my interest that drew me to such movies? Could I already imagine that monsters were human too, and that's something I liked about Young Frankenstein , or was it this movie that formed that notion within me? Or is it all just coincidence with some of these really early films--i.e. movies made before I was born, and put to VHS in my family's house not by my choice, and not even viewed by me necessarily by my choice; I mean, I took an interest in films before I can remember taking such an interest. If there was a movie to watch, I would watch it. Didn't matter what it was about; I'd give it a shot. And, if my mother didn't already know just how adult the film might be, she might try to cover my eyes (though she usually failed, and always piqued m...

I'm only on the third film of this "month" of deconstructing my childhood interactions with film. This month might last a few months. I suggested at the end of yesterday's entry that Young Frankenstein might have influenced my ability (and sometimes, it feels like a need) to appreciate the monster. That is, my ability to pull for the underdog, for the rebel, for those outside the mainstream, the eccentric and bizarre. Throw in Star Wars , for example, which I'll get to later this "month" and it's like 70s cinema was trying to create within its audience an urge toward rebellion... An echo of the real rebellions in the decade before, perhaps. Which, of course, I studied intensively when I went to college (the second time) as an adult. Pop culture of the time idealized outcasts, outlaws, rebels. The Godfather and its sequel. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest . Taxi Driver . A Clockwork Orange , perhaps the most extreme example. Or just plain ol wo...

And sometimes, I take the bad movie personally. Sometimes, it's not supposed to be a bad movie at all. Sometimes it's a sequel to one of my favorite films as a kid and I'm excited, and then increasingly disappointed as I watch the horrible followup. That followup: Highlander II: The Quickening . Roger Ebert's review begins with a lovely line about the awfulness of this film: "This movie has to be seen to be believed. On the other hand, maybe that's too high a price to pay." I have paid that price twice. I saw this movie in the theater. Second run theater, actually. Didn't see it opening weekend. I cannot remember if I knew ahead of time not to rush out to it, maybe some bad things said about it in Starlog magazine. Maybe I (or my parents, though I could drive by then) was just busy. I also rented the film on VHS once. Imagine, if you will, my confusion, having loved the swordfighting and magic in the original Highlander , coming into this movie wit...

I watched Beginners for this blog before . It was during my ""six degrees of Kevin Bacon" month. It was one link in a chain of connected films... But, as per the usual line here, every movie is such a link, and the chain just keeps getting longer. The movie begins quietly enough, without much pretense. Oliver (Ewan McGregor) cleaning up after--as it will turn out--his father Hal (Christopher Plummer) has died. No voiceover at first. Though there will be plenty more later. Good voiceover, by the way. I made that point before. Like in Mills' more recent 20th Century Women , the voiceover and the cutaways offer "real characterization instead of simple information we could better receive another way" (which is how I put it last February). (It's been a while since I saw his Thumbsucker but I think it did something similar as well.) Then fireworks after the cleaning. Then Oliver talks to the dog, gives him a tour of his apartment and whatnot. Then ...

I realize tonight--seeing that opening dine-and-dash bit for the eighth time--that the opening scene sets up the dichotomy between Eleanor and Conor pretty well. I'm back to The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Them tonight. And, if you know the film, or have been reading this past week's entries, this should make sense... First, a rundown: Opening line, from Conor: "Would you still love me if I couldn't pay for dinner?" Eleanor hesitates, Conor's seriousness taking a moment to sink in. Then, she answers, unsure, "Possibly." Conor laughs. Eleanor realizes for sure he's not kidding. She laughs, too. Conor, smiling, says, "Yeah." [Beat] "What do we do?" Eleanor: "I'm thinking." Conor suggests, "We could have a big row. And throw some shit. They might kick us out." Eleanor dismisses that option. "Uh, been done, and it would draw too much attention." She's already doing something with...

I haven't really talked about why there are three versions of The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby yet. (I'm watching Her one more time tonight, by the way.) It was written as two movies-- Him and Her . Two separate scripts that shared a few scenes (with slightly different variations between those scenes). It was only after The Weinstein Company bought the film(s) that a third, combined version was requested. Editing began with Him . It's the easier film in terms of structure, because, as editor Kristine Boden tells Indiewire , Conor is "more reactive and just want[s] to keep going." Her , on the other hand, has "introspection and gravity." Conor's energy made Him a shorter film. Eleanor, being more contemplative, has the slower burn. Still, Her is only a few minutes longer than Him . And, Them is, as you might expect, longer than either one, taking pieces of each and combining them into one film for both characters. For the separate versions of...

The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Her has me thinking about versions of self. More accurately, how the self we project and the self that others actually experience are probably never the same thing. Not exactly, and sometimes barely at all. Like the difference for the class clown between the class laughing at you or with you. You hope for the latter, but it's usually the former. It's like that encoding/decoding thing again --you choose how to present yourself and other people get it or they don't. The interesting moments are not when they get you wrong in a negative way--that laughing at you bit--but when they get you wrong in a positive way. Like someone likes you and you don't get why. I feel that sometimes... mostly when I'm not feeling that great about myself so maybe it's an entirely different issue. My self-esteem issues and/or depression rearing its head. (Ten minutes before Stu shows up.) I understand Eleanor a little too well I think. That need...

Ralph has no story arc in the Them version of The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby . We only see him once, when Conor brings him to Spencer's house and Spencer says hello. Ralph is, of course, the fish. In Them , he's just luggage with a name, a random bit of trivia. Spencer knows his name and maybe we find that odd, maybe it's just a passing confusions that doesn't seem important. But, Ralph has a life. Ralph has a purpose. And, damn it, Ralph serves a specific sort of role in this film... the Him version of the story. We first see Ralph when Conor goes for "a stroll" ostensibly to go home and check on Eleanor who is still in bed at 6:30pm. Conor feeds the fish before he crawls into bed with Eleanor. Ralph, then, is the first thought. A stand in for the dead child. Eleanor comes second. Ralph is Conor's preoccupation with his dead son. Ralph is responsibility aborted, responsibility perverted. Ralph is something that should be easy to take care of. Elea...

Moving on to Him . The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Him in case you're just joining us. So far, I have managed to write three blog entries on the Them version, all three of which were completed at least a half hour before the movie came to its end. This is one of those movies that just grabs me and distracts me from being distracted away from it. Thing is, I've never seen the Him version before. So, the aforementioned problem may be exacerbated tonight. (I also may be inclined to short, relatively self-contained comments as I livetweeted through the Democratic Debate and The Gallows earlier tonight. We'll see.) Same Rom-Com opening as Them --the dine and dash, the park, the fireflies. Since this is Conor's (James McAvoy) version of the story, I'm guessing this will be very different right away, maybe even skip us seeing Eleanor (Jessica Chastain) try to kill herself... Yep, we cut from the titlecard to Conor in his restaurant (sorry, his "bar with un...

The first awesome thing about The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Them is how it starts like a romantic comedy and then makes a jarring turn with Eleanor's attempted suicide. Then, it's mostly dark, in different ways. That's what happens when your story begins after a child dies and his mother tries to kill herself. You also get an exploration of self, or an exploration into the exploration of self. Both Conor (James McAvoy) and Eleanor (Jessica Chastain) are trying to figure out who they are. Without their son. Without each other. Lillian (Viola Davis) even teaches a course on Identity Theory. (That and the broken down relationship... No wonder this film is right down my alley.) Stu (Bill Hader) doesn't know how to be Conor's friend anymore because Conor is.... Well, he's occasionally belligerent, a bit isolated, refuses certain conversation. One identity affects another. Lillian reads from Selfhood, Identity and Personality Styles , part of the followin...