Indie Grows Up

I'll start this review with a little digression about the nature of indie, because I seem to be falling deeply in love with the digression as a way to make an incredibly convoluted point in my reviews. So I've come to the conclusion that many may have already reached, namely that there is a difference between indie kids and people who are really and truly Indie (not Indiana Jones, just capital-I-for-emphasis Indie) and that difference is the element of self-consciousness. Indie kids are the type of kid who go out of their way to be wacky and alternative and generally different in a quirky way, because they think it will make them appear cool and therefore give their lives meaning. Then there's a subcategory of individuals who do so in a semi-ironic fashion, known as hipsters, who focus more on the absurdist/awful side of being different and seek to showcase their own good taste by pretending to enjoy things that are clearly awful; the danger here is an overdose of irony that leaves none of the original good taste (if there ever was any) visible, resulting in walking caricatures. And lastly we have the core of my argument, that there is a type of person who is really and truly Indie, but they achieve this distinction by being so naturally and effortlessly indie that they actually cease to be considered as such (it also helps that their taste tends more towards the whimsical and unusual in such an ingrained fashion that their breed of indie is nowhere nearly as offensive as their irksome wanna-be counterparts). And it is because these people cease to be considered indie that their distinction is so ephemeral, yet every bit as pleasurable as what the first type of indie kid strives to be. The word "indie" has been looking weird on the page for a while now, so let's get to the review.

For a case in point demonstration of these different breeds of alternative lifestyle, please see "Juno" and then today's film, "Away We Go." "Juno" has become the quintessential indie movie because it tries so goddamned hard to be quirky; the quirk is forced. I actually found the movie enjoyable (minus soundtrack), but the after-hype and surrounding cult have become unbearable. Keeping all this previous history in mind, as well as my views on the subject of indie kids, it's understandable that I thought "Away We Go" would be similarly forced. The posters looked very "Juno"-cutscene-esque, and the trailer made it seem way depressing. So I entered said film with more than my fair share of usual skepticism, and was blown away. Not only does "Away We Go" diverge from indie stereotypes by being so naturally and subtly quirky, but it also centers on a pair of whimsical kids (who happen to be adults) growing up, further removing us from the angsty adolescent world of the stereotypical indie kid. And my god is it well told, as a story: full of fear and trepidations and joy and old friends and generally possibly the most hopeful take on growing up that my young mind has had the good fortune to stumble upon in these impressionable times when that part of the future looks really fucking scary. You'd probably like some plot now: John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph are a charming interracial couple about to have a baby. When John's parents abandon them indirectly/passively by deciding to move away, the two find themselves footloose and fancy free to go off and find a neighborhood to raise the baby. This leads to a road trip of visiting old friends and acquaintances and trying to come to terms with Real Life kicking in the door of their peaceful, simple indie-without-trying existence. Some of it is hilariously awkward, some of it just plain funny in an adversarial sense, some admittedly contrived (one joke in particular, but it's one of the best), but mostly just heartwarming, and with a large dose of pathos/sensitivity. Krasinski and Rudolph do great work here, and the script is outstanding (I figure that if I notice how fine and natural the dialogue is without feeling forced, it must be a baller screenplay, so hats off to you Dave Eggers). And the movie is also nicely shot and composed, lots of good colors and a cooly colored atmosphere, and the soundtrack is subtly indie, lots of one dude who has a mellow voice and is very accomplished with his acoustic fingerpicking ways.

That's not to say that there aren't a few overly drawn out segments, and that the side-characters are perfect and as real as our heroes, but it's not every movie that can make the bleak adventure of growing up seem so fun and exciting. The movie is best summed up in a final scene, where John is on a trampoline late at night, making phone calls on a friend's behalf in an angry way, when Maya goes and finds him, then the two have a ever-so-slightly quirky conversation that's actually quite deep and forward-looking, and then they fall asleep. There's something so poetic, I can't really do justice to the floaty feeling of deep contentment I had for the rest of the evening, nor the sense of excitement I feel for that period of my life, still yet to come. So the bottom line is go and see this movie, it's soul-warming and uplifting and funny, and will hopefully elevate your spirits for a few days down the line.

That's all from me for now, peep the Tartar Sauce for my first official posting with those guys. This one just seemed a little closer to the Mind the Bats heart, so I decided to give us some business. But don't worry, even though I'm doing some writing with them now I'll still come back to my roots with regularity, dropping things like this on you, the strange little indie films that I so adore and my odd rants. Because I remember where I'm from. Closing time now, gents, last rounds.

Magical Realism

What a cool phrase, and what a really satisfying type of fiction. I just read One Hundred Years of Solitude and it was unbelievably baller, got me thinking about magical realism, all that good stuff. But that's not what our post is about today. Instead, I bring you a review of a more literary bent: The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet, by Rief Larsen, a damn fine book and well worth your time. Unfortunately, book reviews aren't as much my thing as movies, but I'm feeling adventurous and think I'll give it a shot. For those of you who like comparisons, think The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, but instead of an autistic eighteen-year-old explaining the world with little diagrams, we have a precocious twelve-year-old genius cartographer, T.S., whose maps greatly enhance what could be simply distilled to a coming-of-age story. Only it's a bit more complicated than that: T.S's coming of age is vastly more subtle than what we've become used to when we hear the phrase "coming of age;" the story is almost as much about his worldview as it is about his character coming to terms with events both within his family and the world of adults, who are attempting to recognize his genius with some grand Smithsonian prize. It's also a rousing tale of adventure with a heavy pseudo-magical tinge to it, which is where we get out post title: to me, magical realism isn't about the magic. It's that kind of story where things tend to happen in ways that don't fit in with our ordinary laws of how the world works, and often not with the laws of physics. In One Hundred Years of Solitude, this took the form of a house that was almost a living breathing character, minor miracles of a non-religious sort, longevity, and a general feeling of awe and amazement. In T.S. Spivet, the magical realism takes a form more akin to the active imagination of a very smart twelve-year-old boy, something that I found incredibly charming. And even the book starts to bog down with a story within a story i the middle (arguably the only weak point), the confluence of wonderful events in the end more than make up for any digressions sustained in the middle. This is, in my humble opinion, one of the finest books I have read by a recent author in my recent memory, which is why I review it so glowingly. Now go out there and experience some magical realism of your own, find it in your little life, and start peeping The Tartar Sauce more frequently, 'cause I got a posting there now for keeps. Over and out.

Easy Review

It should have been a play, plain and simple. And of course it was, in the beginning, based on a Noel Coward play. The movie today is "Easy Virtue," something that showed an odd sort of promise back in the trailer, but then ultimately failed in practice. I am not a theater dude, and my knowledge of Coward plays is limited, but to me they are predominantly dialogue driven, fast paced, and kind of manically/whimsically fast in a style reminiscent of PG Wodehouse (who might have actually come after Coward, not sure, but my analogy stands). The movie lacks all of this: the dialogue occasionally breaks free of the tedious pacing, but for the most part any comedy and whimsy are stifled by terrible directorial techniques, unnecessary camera work (focusing in and out, overly complicated shots, wild panning and crane work) and the inability of Jessica Biel to really act at all. Her accent was the one thing that really and truly managed to piss me off; there was one scene where she seemed to be deliberately overenunciating her S's and it pierced my brain like a knife. There's a bunch of other stuff I could call her on like lack of comedic timing, lack of compassion/empathy and that stuff, but there's no real need to, because the characters really have no greater meaning in the plot. The young English dandy who falls for Biel brings her home, and then there's some half-assed drama about losing the family estate, and then there's mad tension between the rest of the family (minus Colin Firth) and this American trying to steal the young dandy away, but none of it matters. In the end, all plot ends are left hanging, and although the ending is satisfying you really don't need to watch the entire movie, just the last twenty or so minutes for a nice dance scene and some good moments with the butler (the movie's other saving grace) and some nice music. In fact, that's a pretty solid recommendation: just catch the last twenty minutes on TV sometime, and you'll get everything out of this movie you need to. But the overall experience wasn't bad, just not good. The music is fine, and (as I keep saying) Colin Firth and the staff are amusing to watch. Still, it would have been infinitely superior to see it as the original play (assuming that the play doesn't have such a gimp ending) with Firth and the jazzy soundtrack.

And this is old news by now, but we've got another guest postie at the Tartar Sauce that you guys can check out at your leisure. Cool cool.