links

Link: This is the exact moment that Jack Black became a movie star

In ongoing AV Club feature Scenic Routes, Mike D’Angelo analyzes the importance of specific film scenes.  His most recent article, he makes an argument for High Fidelity as Jack Black’s star-making vehicle, specifically his character Barry’s introduction to the film.

High Fidelity was my favorite film in late high school/early college.  These days, the shittier aspects of Rob’s (John Cusack) personality are more glaring and the endless ending is harder to tolerate, but I still have a great affection for it.  (Especially now that I live in Chicago!  I’ve been to the intersection of Milwaukee and Honore!  [It’s super gentrified!]  I read the Reader!)  Jack Black’s performance remains one of the film’s strongest aspects, and my affection for him as an actor has the same staying power that the film does, even though my film snobbery prevents me from seeing a fair chunk of his oeuvre.  I can’t get enough of his boundless energy and masterful ability to put some stank on a scene.  His work in Bernie is probably my favorite because those impulses are reined in enough to convincingly portray someone as gentle as Bernie Tiede, but emerge organically through his character’s love of music and theater.  (This scene is an excellent example, both because he’s being so dang adorable and because the bit player he’s singing to can’t keep a straight face.)  However, High Fidelity is probably the filmic apex of that Black magic.  Not only is Barry well-written, but given that he’s a pretty one-dimensional character, Black has the freedom to take him to the sublime heights of ridiculousness without losing the audience.

High-Fidelity-Mixtape-2

For all the side-eye I give fat character tropes on this blog, I do love when fat characters are vivacious agents of chaos.  It’s both a subversion of fat = slow/lazy and an outright denial of respectability politics, a grab at hyper-visibility and confrontation that provides a vicarious thrill for a fat introvert like yours truly.  Even if the institution doesn’t actually change once including someone like Jack Black or Rebel Wilson on the A-list, it feels good to see them win widespread recognition for playing a character who challenges everyone around them.

Link: Listen to Chris Farley as the Original Shrek

Footage of the original voiceover work and matching storyboards for Shrek, with Chris Farley as the title character, was recently leaked.  This coincides with the premiere of biographical documentary I Am Chris Farley, which will be available on VOD on Tuesday.  Word from the limited theatrical release is that I Am Chris Farley is a touching tribute to a sweet, insecure, funny guy who died way too young.

In Memoriam: the Dissolve

It’s one of the oldest cliches in film history:  the sudden and untimely death of a mentor.

On Wednesday, the Dissolve announced that they will no longer be producing new content.  (Today is the two-year anniversary of the site launching.)  I initially resisted the impulse to write about it– partially because I was paralyzed by how really really fucking sad the news made me, but also because I didn’t feel like I had anything to add to the discussion.  I was never an active member of the site; despite the praise for the civility of the Dissolve’s comments sections, I have a Pavlovian aversion to them, plus I never felt like anything I could have said would be smart or timely enough to warrant posting.  I’m also not a film critic, so I don’t have any thoughts on what this means about the profession’s trajectory.

But even if I don’t have anything new or insightful to say about this sad event, I can say that the Dissolve had a huge impact on CPBS.  I started writing this blog in part because I fantasized about being skilled enough to be part of the Dissolve, but at the same time, I wanted to focus on my interests and use my particular lens.  I don’t think I’m in that league, but I will continue to use their work as an aspiration for my own, both in the quality of analysis and balance between academic and casual.

The Dissolve was, of course, part of my life outside of this blog.  They were my go-to source for deciding which films were worth seeing in theaters– and many sincere thanks are due to them, especially Scott Tobias, for convincing me to see Under the Skin and Duke of Burgundy on the big screen, because those were not only two of the best cinematic experiences of my life, but both films that work for me on the level of cyphers for complicated and somewhat ineffable aspects of my life experience.

I have no doubt that the talented team behind the Dissolve will be on their feet and onto new projects very soon, and I look forward to following their work.  In the meantime, I and many others will continue to run around in the backyard, playing at being Dissolve staff.

Related links:

Link: Every Single Word

A project best summed up by its subtitle:  Every Single Word Spoken by a Person of Color in [Mainstream Film Title].  Creator Dylan Marron (whom you probably know as Carlos on Welcome to Night Vale) creates videos that stitch together all of the speaking screentime that people of color have in well known films.  Even including intro titles and credits at the end, there has yet to be a video that runs over 1 minute.

His curation of films is a stroke of genius.  Of the 12 videos he’s posted so far, the oldest is from 2005, making this issue the problem of the generation who is most likely to come across ESW.  They are also largely films that tend to be favorites of those of us who fancy ourselves as smart people with good taste, neatly skewering the classist perceptions we often cling to about who is racist and who is “beyond” that.  Black Swan.  Her.  Frances Ha.  One of my personal favorites, Moonrise Kingdom, clocks in at 11 seconds.

Marron’s project doesn’t explicitly have anything to do with fat people, but his mission of exploring filmic representation (or lack thereof) of a marginalized group parallels that of CPBS.  If anything, I’d say his approach is more impactful (but my blog is still great you love it please don’t stop reading it).  He doesn’t include commentary or analysis, he just lets the facts about these films stand as testament to how people of color are largely absent from many American films and who they are when they are on screen (spoiler alert: a lot of people working service jobs).

Every Single Word can be found on tumblr.

Link: Director’s Club Podcast Bonus Episode: Cape Fear & Shutter Island

Director’s Club Podcast is going on hiatus, but not before putting out a series of bonus episodes over the next few months.  The topics are requests from listeners who donated $50 or more to the production of Most Likely by Bang! Films, an independent romantic comedy featuring the acting talents of my bff Jess Conger.  (You can’t fight synergy, Lemon.  It’s bigger than us all.)

I was a guest commentator on the first of this series of bonus episodes, in which Patrick and I talk about Martin Scorcese’s divisive thrillers Cape Fear (1991) and Shutter Island (2010).

Listen to the episode here, or download it from the iTunes store.

The Foxy Merkins (2014, dir. Madeleine Olnek) and the Uncharted Territory of the Fat Lesbian Protagonist

This is super exciting for a few reasons.  A fat, gender nonconforming protagonist!  A film written, directed by, and starring queer women!  A film that passes the Bechdel Test so hard that it would fail the Bechdel Test if applied to its male characters!

And perhaps the most exciting part– at least, for me, but it’s my blog so that means my opinion is basically irrefutable objective fact– is that the awesome feminist film site BitchFlicks published my thoughts on The Foxy Merkins as part of their Theme Week on fatphobia/fat acceptance.

You can read it here!  Eee!

And if you haven’t already seen it, check out The Foxy Merkins on Netflix watch instantly.  It’s a hoot and a half.

I’ll be doing an article roundup of the rest of fat Theme Week in a few days, as well as taking in a few films at the Chicago Critics Film Festival over the next week, so there might be something from that.

Link: The epic uncool of Philip Seymour Hoffman

I’ve been a long term admirer of Philip Seymour Hoffman, and was deeply saddened by the news of his death last year.  His charisma was polymorphous; he could bring warmth and humanity to even the most detestable character.  One of the first roles I noticed him in was as Allen in Todd Solondz’s Happiness.  Watching him make obscene phone calls to the various women in the film, I wondered, Why do I like this guy?

I’d been considering a series on Hoffman as a long-term project for this blog, but considering his prolific 20+ years making movies, I’m more than happy to let the professionals do the heavy lifting.  God bless Nathan Rabin, whose recent article at the Dissolve presents a comprehensive look at Philip Seymour Hoffman’s career.

Link: Film Jive Special #17- “Soundtrack of Terror”

Film Jive podcast’s Halloween special is a collection of film podcasters, bloggers, and horror authors talking about their favorite music featured in horror movies.  I was very flattered to be asked to submit a segment, and have my two cents included among some really smart, savvy film geeks.

You’ll have to check out the podcast to find out what piece of music and film I chose, but I will divulge that the film’s director was a fat man and film legend in his own right.  (No, not him.)

Link: Director’s Club Podcast Episode #79: Wes Anderson

I was pleased and honored to be asked back as a guest for the 79th episode of Director’s Club, where we discussed the works of one of my favorite directors, Wes Anderson.  I also got a chance to talk with the guys about Concussion (see my previous post) and The One I Love,  and Jim reviews Resolution. In honor of Bisexual Awareness Week, I profess my profound attraction to both Robin Weigert and Jason Schwartzman.

Check it out!

If you can’t get enough of our Y Tu Mama Tambien-esque dynamic, I was also the guest on the Richard Linklater episode.

I Can’t Believe I’m Writing About Scooby-Doo

Last week, there were a few mentions in my corner of the blogosphere about the new Scooby-Doo movie, Frankencreepy, in which Daphne is put under a curse that makes her “lose her good looks” (according to a statement from Warner Brothers).  Her loss of good looks equates to her thin body becoming fat and her straight hair becoming curly… frizzy… well, you can’t really tell exactly what they were going for due to the animation style, but she’s gained quite a bit of texture.

I read some analyses of this artistic choice which I’ll link to below that do a good job of spelling out the shitty implications that the movie makes about being fat and how it tries to mitigate the effects of that implication by having Fred tell her that she’s still pretty.  However, I think it’s important to look at what in our culture is influencing this storyline, eg. beauty standards based on whiteness.

Beauty, as in the eye of the beholder kind, is nuanced and shifting based on era, culture, subjectivity, and lots of other factors.  If Fred think that Daphne is pretty under the curse, that’s real and valid (even if Daphne shouldn’t base her self worth on his opinion maybe).  But it’s vital to recognize the difference between that and hegemonic beauty standards, ideas about which bodies are good and valid that function as maintenance of power structures.

The culturally reinforced idea of fat=ugly exists at the intersection of a lot of power imbalances, among them sexism, classism, ableism, and racism.  The exotification of fat serves to objectify and other black women’s bodies, from the Hottentot Venus to the appropriation of twerking as an edgy accessory for skinny white pop stars– the same A-list celebrities whose cultural capital would plummet if their bodies looked the same as their backup dancers’.  Similarly, the equation of a fat body with beauty is, in the context of white colonialism, seen as quaint or curious or wrong; the white beauty ideal always positioned as the one to strive for.  A well-known anecdote (at least in feminist and eating disorder recovery communities) is how rates of eating disorders among adolescent girls in Fiji increased dramatically after the introduction of Western television, their local beauty standards uprooted and replaced by imported images of glamorized thinness.  This handful of examples and analysis is a cursory explanation, and I hope to explore the concept more deeply in future blog posts, but the idea we’re working with here is that the feminine ideal is the white body, and the white body is thin.

Along the same lines, the ideal feminine body is also crowned with long, light, straight hair.  Coarsely textured hair– hair in its natural state for the majority of black people– is seen as a hallmark of being out of control, inappropriate, not beautiful.  This standard has long been used in the US to marginalize black people for being “too” black, from churches that would only allow membership for people who could pass a fine tooth comb through their hair without it snagging, to hair style standards in the US Army that were only removed after being skewered on The Daily Show.

Am I saying that the creators of Scooby-Doo: Frankencreepy are white supremacists?  Not consciously.  Or maybe they are conscious white supremacists, I’m not really interested in giving them the benefit of the doubt.  In Tom Burns’ essay on Frankencreepy, linked to below, he points out that the movie could very well have removed Daphne’s “good looks” by turning her into a monster.  It’s not like this movie is devoid of the fantastic.  But instead, how the movie portrays her loss of her “good looks” is by removing two physical features that are hallmarks of white beauty standards.  That is how she is cursed.  Admittedly I haven’t seen the movie, but given she’s the heroine in a kid’s movie, I feel safe in assuming that her “good looks” are returned to her by the end of the movie.  Her nightmare is over, she is returned to her full status as pretty white girl.

But what does that say about viewers– likely very young viewers– who have fat bodies and/or natural hair that don’t change at the end of the movie like Daphne’s?  Do they not have access to the comfort of a happy ending?  Are they cursed?

And what kind of malicious force would cast an evil spell at a child?

 

Related articles:

The Good Men Project: Why Is the New Scooby-Doo Trying to Fat Shame Daphne?

Dances with Fat: Scooby Dooby Don’t