I really don’t know what to make of this movie. Christina Ricci, whom I already found skeevy and disturbing, ramps up her usual sleaziness to deliver an impressively accurate, but repellent, performance. That said, I’m not sure the film really knows what to do with itself. It’s pretty pleased with its premise, but doesn’t seem to have any way to wrap things. By the end, it’s entered weird self-help turf, with some happy endings that sort of come out of nowhere.

Not sure there’s much to say here. This is a pretty mediocre Grudge knock-off that almost started decently enough (though that might have just been the ten minutes or so of elation caused by seeing Penelope Ann Miller in a leading role again) then goes fairly awry. The switch from supernatural to tangible threat is particularly poorly handled, which is unfortunate.

So, one of the things I remember learning in a creative writing class somewhere is that “but that’s what really happened” is never a good excuse for writing that pushes the boundaries of believability. Even with the assertions of truthfulness, the ending ten minutes or so feels like a screenwriter found himself at the point where he had successfully established two sympathetic, likable protagonists with opposing motivations and found himself forced to come up with some way to get them working together.

Up until that point, I was actually enjoying the movie significantly more than I expected I would. I don’t think I’ve unambiguously enjoyed a Ridley Scott movie since Alien, so I had pretty low expectations. Did seem a little odd that they didn’t cover up RZA’s tattoo, though. I assume there’s at least some people in the viewing audience who don’t recognize RZA, but do realize that a Wu-Tang tattoo in 1970 is a little anachronistic.

The basic premise of the film certainly seems worthy of Von Trier’s scorn (which he voices periodically throughout the film), as it’s only a step or two away from something like The Closet, but it’s still nice to see Von Trier let his sense of humour come through on a film. I don’t think I’ve seen anything of his since The Kingdom that gave any evidence of his goofiness. Perhaps he should always taken his films less seriously.

On the downside, the much hyped Automavision process seemed less impressive than I would have thought since A) the computer doesn’t actually control the camera, so it’s roughly the same as rolling dice to determine angle/pan/zoom/tilt and B) Von Trier still reserved the right to overrule things. Still, it produced some pretty impressive framings, so who am I to argue?

I had adjusted my expectations pretty low, so I ended up being pleasantly surprised. The Guy Noir/Asphodel storyline was pretty lousy and dragged things down to a significant degree, but the backstage bantering bits were pretty enjoyable. I spent enough time listening to Prairie Home as a kid that I found the stage performances tolerable enough. It’s certainly not the best thing Altman directed, but it’s far from the worst.

To be honest, I only half-watched this movie while I worked on a project, but I can say that it’s a pretty good movie to half-watch. The plot probably is more enjoyable if you’re not following it too closely. The action scenes are enjoyable enough if you’re only glancing at the screen occasionally to see what all the noise is about. And the aggressive vagueness of the MacGuffin is enjoyable rather than annoying (as I suspect it might have been if you’d invested anything in the story).

I certainly like Martin Donovan and Walsh’s previous film (Ed’s Next Move) was one of my top 10 low-budget indie comedies of the 90’s, but this one never quite came together for me. Part of the problem is that I have a very hard time accepting any film that asserts that Rebecca Gayheart’s supposed to be a knockout. Since a lot of the character motivations are based solely on that premise, I found it hard to get too involved.

I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this movie more than any other at this point. I figure I’ve watched it nearly every Christmas since I was about eight. Even if I missed it 1 year out of 3, that would be sixteen viewings, which has got to beat out some of the other contenders (Halloween, For Your Eyes Only). Anyway, it remains a pretty much flawless movie, and I continue to harbour a life-long dream to build (and live in) a recreation of the Columbia Inn’s lodge.

I hadn’t seen this film since my dad risked our lives driving through a blizzard so that we would make it to my grandmother’s in time to watch its broadcast premiere on WPIX. Watching it now, I can safely say that it’s not nearly good enough to merit risking one’s life to see it, but it’s not bad. Yogi’s actually a funnier character than I remembered, but there’s not really enough material here to justify a feature-length film.

I’m writing this up a few days after actually watching the movie, so my hostility to the film has diminished somewhere, but the root of my anger remains. If you’re making a film that is taking a bold, new, impressionistic approach to a biopic, why would you still include the hackneyed “rock star becomes a cheating, self-absorbed jerk who neglects his family to the degree that his wife takes the kids and leaves him” storyline? The whole point of the film’s structure is to separate strict biography from the essence of the subject, so why drag things down with that trite, dull storyline?

Aside from that, I’m not entirely sure what the merit is of reshooting Don’t Look Back in the style of Godard (with couple direct Fellini lifts), but I suppose an argument can be made. Most people seemed to be in love with that section, but the one that worked best for me was the 70’s style Western with Richard Gere as a conflation of Dylan’s 70’s hermit stage, youth culture’s Nixon-era back-to-the-earth tendencies, and Peckinpah’s Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid. That it’s the section with the least direct connection to Dylan himself perhaps speaks to my general disinterest in the subject.