Well, that didn't take long.
Remember two days ago I wrote about the utter disappointment of "Men, Women, and Children" mainly because I expect so much more from writer-director Jason Reitman. Well, he didn't write or direct "Whiplash." That task fell to 29-year-old Damien Chazelle. But Reitman was the producer and, for that, he earns major and quick points back in my book.
You see all those adjectives in the poster above? Well, as far as I am concerned, yes, yes, yes, yes, and YES. "Whiplash" is that good and just might be the best movie I've seen so far in 2014. There is hope and that's the kind that doesn't come with Crosby.
Again, like with the superlative "St. Vincent," you've seen this dynamic and plot before. Young guy aspires to something. A mean teacher or mentor stands in the way. Blah, blah, blah, and then bam.....happy ending.
Well, that's what you get with "Whiplash." But that's also not what you get with "Whiplash." Because just when you think you're getting the usual Hollywood conventions, the movie takes you down a path you've never been before. It is surprising and organic and real.
A luminous actor named Miles Teller plays Andrew, a young student drummer who hopes to one day rival Buddy Rich in the music world. He practices so much that his hands bleed. He manages to get into the Schafer music conservatory in New York City. He lives and breathes jazz and hopes to get into the school's jazz studio band led by teacher and former jazz pianist Terence Fletcher. The latter is played by Jason Reitman-favorite J.K. Simmons and this is an Oscar worthy performance. Because, in Simmons; expert hands, Fletcher is one of the biggest bastards you've ever seen on screen.
Remember Louis Gossett Jr. as the screaming drill master in "An Officer and a Gentleman?" Simmons in this movie is worse.
Remember that screaming gunnery sergeant in "Full Metal Jacket?" Simmons in this movie is worse.
Remember John Houseman as the dastardly Harvard law Professor Kingsfield in "The Paper Chase?" Simmons in this movie is worse.
Indeed, you hate this man right from the get go. He seemingly befriends Andrew during a break in class. Fletcher asks the kids about his father and his mother and his situation at home. Ten minutes later, he uses the information to humiliate the boy in class. And we know that we're off to the races.
What results is a constant tug-of-war between teacher and student that is painful to watch. But it's remarkable acting so you cannot look away for a second. Paul Reiser shines in the supporting role of Andrew's dad and I had forgotten how good an actor he was on "Mad About You." Andrew also starts to date a young girl who sells him popcorn at the movie theater. The young lady is a Fordham student in the film, so yay on that! Meanwhile, the scene where Andrew asks her out is so genuinely inept that it probably came right out of your and my life.
But, the movie belongs to Teller and Simmons. Supposedly, there is an autobiographical nature to this story as writer-director Chazelle also has a music background. Along with the wonderful performances, you're also treated to some great jazz orchestra selections that take you right back to the days of Doc Severinsen and the Tonight Show band. And, yes, that really is Miles Teller on the drums.
There are several plot twists you don't see coming. One is so startling and incredibly realistic that the entire audience gasped in unison. As I said earlier, this is a conventional story that ultimately plays out in the most unconventional way. Oscar voters, please see "Whiplash" and fill out your nominating ballots accordingly.
And, one more time, props to Jason Reitman for the fast turnaround in quality.
LEN'S RATING: Four huge stars.
Dinner last night: Sandwich and salad.
Happy birthday to Curly Howard. I mean, today is still his birthday...even if he has been dead for over 60 years.
362: THE TEMPLE OF APOLLO AT DAPHNE IS DESTROYED IN A MYSTERIOUS FIRE.
Daphne was originally supposed to be named Geraldine. Don't get that joke? Watch "Some Like It Hot."
794: EMPEROR KANMU RELOCATES THE JAPANESE CAPITAL TO WHAT IS NOW KYOTO.
Moving it around like it's an Asian food truck.
1383: IN PORTUGAL, KING FERNANDO DIES WITHOUT A MALE HEIR TO THE THRONE, SPARKING A PERIOD OF CIVIL WAR AND DISORDER.
He should have joined RoyalMatch.com.
1707: FOUR BRITISH ROYAL NAVY SHIPS RUN AGROUND NEAR THE ISLES OF SCILLY BECAUSE OF FAULTY NAVIGATION.
Bad driving? That's just scilly.
1734: FRONTIERMAN DANIEL BOONE IS BORN.
Years before he was cancelled by NBC.
1746: THE COLLEGE OF NEW JERSEY, LATER RENAMED PRINCETON, RECEIVES ITS CHARTER.
Good ole CNJ.
1777: DURING THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, AMERICAN DEFENDERS ON THE DELAWARE RIVER REPULSE HESSIAN ATTACKS IN THE BATTLE OF RED BANK.
How were they repulsed? By picking their noses in the heat of battle?
1784: RUSSIA FOUNDS A COLONY ON KODIAK ISLAND, ALASKA.
Which Sarah Palin could see as well.
1797: ANDRE-JACQUES GARNERIN MAKES THE FIRST RECORDED PARACHUTE JUMP ABOVE PARIS.
Watch out for that tower....WATCH OUT FOR THAT TOWER! Ouch.
1836: SAM HOUSTON IS INAUGURATED AS THE FIRST PRESIDENT OF TEXAS.
And they still think they're in a different country.
1859: SPAIN DECLARES WAR ON MOROCCO.
They're going to attack any country that featured a Bing Crosby-Bob Hope Road picture.
1875: THE FIRST TELEGRAPHIC CONNECTION IN ARGENTINA.
Stop....don't cry for me...stop.
1879: THOMAS EDISON TESTS THE FIRST PRACTICAL ELECTRIC INCANDESCENT LIGHT BULB. IT LASTED 13 1/2 HOURS.
You can be sure it's Edison.
1883: THE METROPOLITAN OPERA HOUSE IN NEW YORK CITY OPENS WITH A PERFORMANCE OF GOUNDOD'S FAUST.
Who's what?
1903: STOOGE CURLY HOWARD IS BORN.
Died by the time he was 48. But metal pipes to the head will do that.
1910: DR. CRIPPEN IS CONVICTED AT THE OLD BAILEY OF POISONING HIS WIFE AND IS SUBSEQUENTLY HANGED IN LONDON.
Before we rush to judgment, did anybody get to meet the wife?
1924: TOASTMASTERS INTERNATIONAL IS FOUNDED.
Because Georgie Jessel needed to belong to something.
1926: J. GORDON WHITEHEAD SUCKER PUNCHES MAGICIAN HARRY HOUDINI IN THE STOMACH IN MONTREAL, PROMPTING HIS LATER DEATH.
Okay, get out of this.
1934: IN OHIO, FBI AGENTS SHOOT AND KILL BANK ROBBER PRETTY BOY FLOYD.
Not in the face, please, not in the face.
1942: ACTRESS ANNETTE FUNICELLO IS BORN.
Second birthday in Heaven.
1957: THE FIRST UNITED STATES CASUALTIES IN VIETNAM.
As the slide used to say on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show..."More to Come."
1962: THE CUBAN MISSILE CRISIS - PRESIDENT JOHN F. KENNEDY ANNOUNCES THAT US PLANES HAVE DISCOVERED SOVIET NUCLEAR WEAPONS IN CUBA AND THAT HE HAS ORDERED A NAVAL QUARANTINE OF THE COMMUNIST NATION.
Back then, we didn't take this kind of shit from our enemies.
1964: JEAN-PAUL SARTRE IS AWARDED THE NOBEL PRIZE FOR LITERATURE, BUT TURNS DOWN THE HONOR.
After all, what's the point of it all?
1966: THE SUPREMES BECOME THE FIRST ALL-FEMALE MUSIC GROUP TO ATTAIN A NO. 1 SELLING ALBUM.
Hey, what were the Andrews Sisters? Chopped liver?
1972: IN SAIGON, HENRY KISSINGER AND SOUTH VIETNAMESE PRESIDENT NGUYEN VAN THIEU MEET TO DISCUSS A PROPOSED CEASE-FIRE IN THE VIET NAM WAR.
You'd need subtitles to understand that conversation.
1976: RED DYE NO. 4 IS BANNED BY THE US FOOD AND DRUG ADMINISTRATION AFTER IT DISCOVERED THAT IT CAUSES TUMORS IN THE BLADDERS OF DOGS.
Are there a lot of dogs who were eating Maraschino cherries?
1978: THE PAPAL INAUGURATION OF POPE JOHN II.
After John Paul I lasted about as long as a bad sitcom.
1981: THE US FEDERAL LABOR RELATIONS AUTHORITY VOTES TO DECERTIFY THE PROFESSIONAL AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLERS ORGANIZATION FOR ITS PREVIOUS STRIKE.
Watch out for that tower....WATCH OUT FOR THAT TOWER....Ouch.
1992: SPORTSCASTER RED BARBER DIES.
Oh, Doctor....never mind.
2009: TV COMIC SOUPY SALES DIES.
The ultimate pie in the face.
Dinner last night: Leftover chicken cutlets.
The movie "Men, Women, and Children" is bothersome. It makes you think about the human condition. Don't get me wrong. A good film should do that. In reality, there should be a good movie here. There isn't. And the overriding emotion you have as you leave the theater is sheer disappointment.
Jason Reitman is the writer and director and that's a name that I've come to trust over the last few years. He made two really special films that were almost Billy Wilder-like. "Juno" and "Up in the Air." He expertly mixed comedy with thought-provoking themes that resulted in superlative entertainment at the movies. With his latest, Reitman has completely lost his way. Indeed, he forgot the humor part of the recipe. And the end result is a thoroughly dour and depressing look at life in America.
That said life is all wrapped up in technology. Reitman spotlights some Midwestern town that is regrettably wired. Everyone is connected to some form of social media and they rarely look up from it. Gee, how surprising is this? With some light moments intertwined, Reitman could have done wonders with the subject matter. Instead, he hits us over the head repeatedly with his sermon. Yes, yes, we know. We all spend too much time on our computers, tablets, and phones.
"Men, Women, and Children" is one of those disjointed movies that focuses on about twenty different characters who you know will somehow be connected by the end of the movie. Gee, how many times has that device been pummeled into the ground of late?
Adam Sandler (yes, gang, I saw an Adam Sandler) and Rosemary Dewitt are a suburban couple bored with each other. They seek out new sexual partners on Ashley Madison.com, which is apparently the Amazon.com if you want sex delivered to your door. Jennifer Garner is a parent suspicious of her daughter's on-line activities and she actually conducts surveillance on her kid.
Judy Greer (who is always welcome on my screen) is a single parent using the Internet to further her daughter's career aspiration of being the next reality TV breakout star. Meanwhile, there are about a dozen other sad characters who are either texting, sexting, or watching and/or producing porn on their computers.
In this film, all the high school kids focus on nothing but sex and I wonder what the hell I was missing during my own wonder years. One girl uses her smart phone to find a high school jock that will take her virginity. Other teenagers are lonely and misunderstood. All of them retreat to their social media for a fix to their problems. It's all way too grim for a Saturday diversion at the movies.
That's the big issue with this film. We get the point. It is hammered home repeatedly. With the sternest looks and reactions. Had Reitman trusted his own past screen history, a little humor would have made the story and its characters much more likeable. What we have now is about twenty characters we can easily detest in a story that is incredibly predictable.
As the warnings against social media and technology continues, you can soon see where everybody is headed. You can easily predict which characters will be broken forever and which ones will try to commit suicide. As uncommonly good as Jason Reitman was in the past, he is incredibly pedestrian here. And that's what makes this two-hour mess so deflating.
I sincerely hope that this talent goes back to the comedy/drama genre he was succeeding in just a year or two ago. Movie audiences want to entertained, not preached at.
Of course, I'm telling you this in a blog that you're reading on a phone or a computer or a tablet, which is Reitman's point. In "Men, Women, and Children," he did shoot at the right target.
He just missed. Big time.
LEN'S RATING: One and a half stars.
Dinner last night: Chicken cutlets, peas, and salad.
What a relic. Angie Dickinson, Otto Preminger, Pat Carroll, and Peter Lawford playing Password.
Dinner last night: Roast beef dinner compliments of Barbara and sister Jackie.
Not the movie, gang. But you will see what this means as long as you read on.
Back after Robin Williams passed on at his own hand, I wrote a piece about just how fragile our minds can be. And just how quickly things can go off the rails for even the more rational person. The mind can be our best friend and our worst enemy.
In that blog entry, I mentioned my mother's own mental conflicts. It started very simply. In one of her first weeks of retirement, she tried to hang some drapes. She fell and her sofa was the safety net. She didn't break anything but there was enough physical trauma that her slowly-simmering arthritis started to boil over. Within weeks, every bone in her body was sore every morning. And she didn't handle it well.
The body aches ramped up her thought process. Already grappling with a forced retirement, boredom made the arthritis worse. She started to become depressed and, at the same time, anxious every night as she anticipated the morning stiffness to come. Calling her on the phone every day was a crapshoot. I never knew what kind of mindset she would be in.
Ultimately, she sought the help and counsel of her family doctor. And he immediately hit the prescription pad.
Pain killer.
Anti-depressant.
Anti-anxiety.
A chemical cocktail that sent her spinning. And it wasn't long after that one of my daily phone calls to her sent me spinning.
"I think I want to kill myself."
My mother could have her goofy moments. But the tone of her voice told me she was dead serious. I also had a sense that, if she mentioned this out loud, the odds of her actually doing this was were low. Nevertheless, I hit the Yellow Pages and looked to see what was available from Westchester County in the way of mental health assistance.
Surprisingly, there were several agencies that anybody can reach out. My guess is that budget cuts have happened since and none of them exist now. But I was lucky twenty-five years ago.
In her anguish, my mother had taken to not getting out of bed. I finally did my own little intervention and paid a visit. I told her that I had called a county agency and they would assign a psychiatrist to her case.
"I'm not nuts."
You're also not bedridden, either. I pledged to disconnect her cable TV if she didn't at least see the guy once.
We negotiated a bit. Essentially I got her to agree for the price of five Lotto tickets a week. That was another weakness she had. Lottery scratchers. But I was willing to overlook that addiction for now.
As I have written most recently, my
mom was not a person who shared her life's history. Ever. She had a
sister and both had been orphaned in their early teens. Their parents,
my maternal grandparents, apparently died at the same time. Likely
from one of those killer influenza outbreaks. I knew their names, but
never saw a picture or heard any stories. The motto in my house was
like the military.
Don't ask. Don't tell.
So, the thought that my
mother was going to open up to some stranger seemed to be a dicey
prospect. And a huge waste of money if she simply went in there to
discuss the weather or last night's edition of Jeopardy.
My mom's shrink was Dr.
Frenkel and his big claim to fame were some studies he had developed
with regard to lights and colors. His whole business model was
constructed around the notion that everybody had a key positive color
and a key negative color. The pro-color would trigger good sensations.
The con-color would spike your pain. Naturally, you wanted to be awash
in your good color and the way you do that is with tinted glasses. Dr.
Frenkel obviously had cut a side deal with Lenscrafters.
After his testing, Dr.
Frenkel declared that my mother's positive color was purple.
So now you understand today's title.
Of
course, he had the direct connection to a pair of purple shades for $119.50,
thank you very much. Even more importantly, he also concluded that
there was a two-way tie for her bad colors. The ones that gave her
intense pain.
Green and brown.
Holy shit.
The furniture in her apartment? Brown.
The wall-to-wall carpeting in her apartment? Green.
If Dr. Frenkel was correct, my mother was spending her days in several shades of Hell.
Of course, Mom needed more
than just a new pair of sunglasses. Dr. Frenkel wanted to get to the
bottom of her pain triggering colors. And that would be done via a
one-hour appointment every Saturday afternoon.
A new routine began. I'd
pick her up and drive up to the doctor's Scarsdale house. After
dropping her off, I would venture to a White Plains mall for a
time-killing lunch and then go pick her up when she was done. One
Saturday, Dr. Frenkel was off his schedule and, when I came by to
retrieve Mom, she was still inside his office.
I sat patiently and quietly
in the waiting room which was certainly not insulated for sound. I
could hear every word of Dr. Frenkel's session with my mother. I
thought quickly about covering my ears. Maybe I'd hear something I
didn't want to know. But, my attention was piqued.
Dr. Frenkel had closed in on why Mom hated the color brown.
She was talking about a brown teddy bear. She loved it so. And, when she was five years old, it was taken away from her by...
I walked quickly outside. I didn't want to know. Her pain and anguish needed to be private.
And I never did find out. I
decided that splurging on Lotto tickets was probably the least of what
my mother had dealt with in her life.
Dinner last night: Sausage pizza at Fabiolus Cafe.
Just audio today, folks, but such memories. The theme song to the old Mets post-game show. "Kiner's Korner." And it's a polka!!!
Dinner last night: Chinese chicken and lo mein from Panda Express.
Dinner last night: Had a big lunch so just a sandwich and salad.
