The MacGuffin

Just released from prison, Mitchell (Colin Farrell) is a criminal who just wants to go straight. Most importantly, he never wants to do time again. As is the case with most criminals in stories like this, Mitchell’s life is surrounded with people who are steeped in crime, leaving Mitchell embroiled in the life he wants to escape, but with little means to do so. In a vain attempt, he takes the tip of a woman he flirts with on the night of his release, who tells him of a job working for a reclusive actress as a handyman and bodyguard. The job turns out to be for a woman named Charlotte (Keira Knightley), presented to us as one of the world’s most famous actresses. She hasn’t acted in some time and has been hiding away in seclusion since, which has only served to make her a fixation for the paparazzi. Mitchell and Charlotte fall for each other, but as Mitchell falls further into Charlotte’s private world, he also becomes further entangled with the world of crime that he lives in.

For a period of time in the mid-to-late 1980s, first-time documentarian Jennie Livingston took her camera into the world of New York City’s “ball” scene, a phenomenon amongst minorities in the gay community of that area and time. Many participants competed in the raucous events; with a form modeled on fashion shows, they allowed just about anyone to show off their look in a number of different, often highly creative, categories. It feels hard to explain; seeing it in action is the best way to understand the process and significance of the events. Though one participant sums up the value as “I went to a ball, I got a trophy, and now everyone wants to know me,” something much deeper than that was also happening. Livingston’s film captures some of a fascinating moment in social history.

Mental illness is a theme that is used to showcase many intriguing concepts, such as people overcoming adversity and looking at the darker aspects of the human psyche. The idea has also been used as an easy plot filler in films needing a quick out. In Take Shelter, mental illness is used to look at the life of one family and give us a chance to experience their lives.

There is one movie in my life that has messed me up beyond all others, and it is The Deliberate Stanger, a 1986 two-part television miniseries about serial killer Ted Bundy. At the time it first aired, I was just about to graduate high school—about the same age as many of Ted Bundy’s victims—and lived in the Pacific Northwest, which meant hearing about serial killers all the time because we seem to breed them here. Everybody I knew watched this miniseries, and we were all totally creeped out by it. (Nobody seems to make very many good miniseries anymore. Which is unfortunate; it’s a good way to tell a longer story. The last one I really enjoyed was Storm of the Century, and I am looking forward to Bag of Bones coming out in December.)

Another Top 5 segment from The MacGuffin. Inspired by the films War Horse and Tintin, Allen and Edward share their top 5 underrated Steven Spielberg films.

This segment is also available on Stitcher and iTunes. The audio version can be downloaded directly from here. After you’ve watched the video please vote in our poll and share which one you think is the best.

I’ve been trying to expand my horizons a bit more with the latest couple of titles that I’ve been seeing. There’s so much great work from everywhere that it always feels like I’m catching up to everyone else. I made it a point to see more stuff from around the world along with the usual mainstream fare that I enjoy. From a devastating Italian trilogy following World War II to a quietly effective thriller from Canada, and from a chilling character drama involving an escaped cult member to a dying high school teacher trying to make an extra buck for his family, there’s never a shortage of content to fill my unquenchable need to sit in a chair and stare at a screen for hours on end.

This has been percolating in my head for awhile. About how many people consider TV in a new golden age in the 2000s? With Mad Men, Breaking Bad, and Dexter, and new shows like Boardwalk Empire and Game of Thrones emerging as well, the argument is strong. But now the bigger debate: is TV now the place to find stronger, edgier forms of entertainment, over film?

You’ve got to be kidding.

While there’s still a little more than a month and a half left in the year, and a good handful of movies left to be released, I’m going to go out there and say with confidence that Jack and Jill, the latest comedy starring Adam Sandler, is the worst movie of 2011. By a mile. Hell, by two miles. Not since Salt (2010) have I walked out of a theater being so thoroughly upset by how silly and stupid a movie was. This is an unfunny holiday comedy that can barely live up to the description of “mediocre.” It does not give the audience—or itself—any kind of respect. There were times where I wanted to turn to the person next to me and ask how they could possibly stay in their seat throughout the duration of this mess. This movie does not deserve a bad review.

We always want love to overcome all, in our books, our television, and, especially, our films. So, it is rare thing when a movie comes along and truly examines that idea without being cynical and cruel, but with an approach that simply asks us to see what challenges love can face and how people really deal with it.

A well-made film about someone selflessly helping another provides a certain distinct sense of pleasure for the viewer, which I believe comes mostly from the fact that films of this sort are usually done poorly. They slide into congratulatory territory; they try too hard to be heartwarming, and miss the point. They suggest that the viewer should immediately go out and seek their own charity case to shower neighborly love upon, whether they want it or not. Le Havre, the most recent film from Finnish filmmaker Aki Kauismäki, tackles such a story of helping a stranger with none of that treacle. Characters who are essentially good people are faced with choices, and they act in the best interest of someone who doesn’t have the means to get through his situation alone. Would that the world was a bit more like this…