Huh? Run That By Me Again.
Reviews and Comments by Ken Burke
I invite you to join me on a regular basis to see how my responses to current cinematic offerings compare to the critical establishment, which I’ll refer to as either the CCAL (Collective Critics at Large) when they’re supportive or the OCCU (Often Cranky Critics Universe) when they go negative.
I’m Thinking of Ending Things (Charlie Kaufman)
rated R
Opening Chatter (no spoilers): Yeah, Mulan’s also opening this week for streaming (in my part of northern California theaters still aren’t open [don't need their air-conditioning now that the heat wave's broken but would still be a relief from wildfire-smoke-caused darkened, reddish, Martian-like daytime skies] so to keep this blog active I’m still totally dependent on the Internet with nothing from me about Tenet either; I’ll probably review Mulan next week after ruminating over the $6.99 monthly fee and the $30 rental but Tenet shall remain out of my grasp right now unless anyone who’s been able to see it cares to leave some response in either the Comments area at the very end of this posting or at our Two Guys Facebook page [access provided far below in our Related Links section]), but I chose I’m Thinking of Ending Things for 2 reasons: (1) The Rotten Tomatoes positive response was even a bit higher for I’m Thinking … so I didn’t feel like I’d be missing something spectacular with Mulan, which will be easily available for a long time on Disney+; (2) Charlie Kaufman’s written such spectacular screenplays—even directed a couple of them (see this article for a rundown of some previous hits)—that I couldn’t wait to see what he’s come up with this time, even though I admit I had to read/listen to all of the analyses I’ll cite in the first two sections of the review below, then watch the film again to fully be informed enough to write about it because the first viewing left me thoroughly-perplexed as to what I’d just seen but still admiring the cinematic challenges he’s presented to me. (If, unlike your not-so-well-read-critic, you decide to watch I'm Thinking ... after reading the novel of the same name [Iain Reid, 2006] you’ll already know what’s behind the mysterious goings-on you’ll see on screen; I don’t advise that because, even with what I understand to be some significantly-different-approaches in Kaufman’s adaptation, the main thrust of the plot’s the same, so I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate what I encountered with the film had it been largely just visualizing a most-tantalizing-idea I'm already fully informed about via this book.)
However, approach this decision as you prefer, especially if you’ve already encountered the plot on paper. Essentially, what happens here is a young woman’s on the verge of breaking up with her recently-connected-boyfriend even as they navigate winter snow to visit his rural-dwelling-parents on their farm; beyond that bit needs to be kept mostly in the spoiler-free-zone except to know events become mysterious, ambiguities multiply, and the play of Oklahoma takes on an increasingly-important-presence in this film (free to Netflix streaming subscribers or those who accept their 30-day-free-trial option). Also, in the Short Takes section I’ll offer suggestions for some choices on the Turner Classic Movies channel (but too much extra text for line-justified-layout like you see here [Related Links stuff at each posting’s end is similarly-ragged], at least to be done by this burned-out-BlogSpot-drone—oh, tedious software!) along with that standard dose of industry-related-trivia.
Here’s the trailer for I’m Thinking of Ending Things:
(Use the full screen button in the image’s lower right to enlarge it; activate
that same button or use the “esc” keyboard key to return to normal size.)
If you can abide plot spoilers read on, but this blog’s intended for those who’ve seen the film or want to save some $. To help any of you who want to learn more details yet avoid those important plot-reveals I’ll identify any give-away sentences/sentence-clusters like this:
⇒The first and last words will be noted with arrows and red.⇐ OK, now continue on if you prefer.
What Happens: It was a dark and stormy night—no, wait, that’s from something else … but ultimately it does fit here as well, so on we go. A young woman named Lucy (maybe, more on that later; credits and audio captions just list her as “young woman” [Jessie Buckley]) is riding with her new boyfriend of 7 weeks, Jake (Jesse Plemons—also played a major character in season 2 [2015] of TV’s version of Fargo, a cluster of stories which could easily conjure up some connections to aspects of Kaufman’s current film; David Thewles—we’ll get to him soon—was in Fargo season 3 [2017], Buckley will be in the upcoming season 4 [2020]), through a snowfall to visit his parents on their remote rural farm (based on a comment he makes this could be in Oklahoma because he notes his high school “naturally” performed the play a lot [doing it again this year]); however, we almost immediately start hearing voiceover thoughts from her about ending the relationship because while she admires various things about Jake she just doesn’t feel all that connected to him, even as he, at times, seems to be somewhat strangely aware of her thoughts, including about a line from William Wordsworth’s poem “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood” (finished 1804, published 1807). As the beginning of an ongoing series of confusions/mysteries, Jake refers to her as Lucy, then she gets a call from a friend also named Lucy (further, Jake tells her about Wordsworth poems dedicated to a woman named Lucy). Intercut with this we see brief scenes at times of an elderly man (Guy Boyd) watching cartoons as he eats breakfast, then is off to work (he’s a janitor at a high-school) in his pickup (listening to a Christian radio station). Although no snow impedes their progress it’s already getting dark, Lucy’s concerned about getting back home (wherever that is) tonight as she has work to do the next morning, yet Jake assures her he has chains for the tires, their return trip will go smoothly. We’re not fully clear what Lucy’s background is (she seems to be an undergrad student studying quantum physics but later says she’s a painter and has a film class paper due soon); however, she admits she writes poetry so Jake encourages her to share one, which she does, offering a quite long, grim recitation Jake says seems to be about him.*
*This extensive article (Beware: Spoilers!) identifies the poem as "Bonedog," (use up/down arrows on your keyboard to scroll through it) as actually being from Rotten Perfect Mouth (Eva H.D., 2015); it also offers a detailed analysis of this film and the book it’s adapted from—more on that later—along with some specifics on why Oklahoma figures so prominently here. I don’t have many clear memories of this play so if you too need a plot refresher, here's one; overall, you’ll find lots of references to poems, films, etc. in I’m Thinking … so see what all you can identity in a work that emulates T.S. Eliot’s magnificent The Waste Land (1922) in its judicious sense of worthy borrowing.
When they finally arrive at the farm, rather than going in the house Jake takes her on a tour of the barn where they encounter a couple of dead lambs; he says they’re frozen, will be disposed of in the spring when they thaw out. Next they go into the empty pig sty where Jake tells her about porkers who had to be killed because they were being eaten by maggots (information that comes back to haunt us at dinner when Mom brags all the food on the table comes from their farm, including a large ham; there’s also a big jug of [probably] cheap [he notes from miserable experience] red wine which Jake later says Lucy had too much of, but that’s just one aspect of their visit she’s not so clear about later). Once they enter the house Jake’s parents take forever to come downstairs (even though Mom was actively waving at them when they got out of the car) so Lucy has time to meet their border collie, Jimmy, and be discouraged by Jake from going down into the basement, a place that gives him bad memories (even as it evokes a sense of a horror-movie-trope for us). Jake’s unnamed parents (Toni Collette, David Thewlis) come down, are delighted to meet Lucy (although Jake calls her Lucia at this point, will later refer to her as Louisa and Ames [for Amy, as with one of my nieces?] with little hesitation from her), Mom so much so that she breaks into hysterical laughter much of the night (often in union with Lucy but usually to Jake’s seeming embarrassment), Dad usually just in a genial mood. In the process of their dinner Lucy shows Dad iPhone photos of her landscape paintings (leading to a bit of an argument on their part as he can’t see how there’s any emotion in them if no people are depicted); she takes an odd phone call from Yvonne, but we hear a man’s voice (Oliver Platt) telling her there’s “one question to answer”; Mom tries to brag about Jake’s diligence school pin but he didn’t care for it, wanting one for acumen instead; he also gets into a heated discussion about their Trivial Pursuit game, insisting it was a “Genus,” not “Genius,” version; Lucy offers the most positive dialogue when she describes going to a bar with a friend, becoming attracted to Jake on a trivia-contest-team, glad he finally overcame his shyness to get her phone number—although at another point Jake says they met when she was his waitress, makes reference to the Santa Fe burger from the janitor’s movie.👉 (In the midst of all this, we see the janitor at work watching a [fake] movie about a vegan waitress, Yvonne [Colby Minifie], who gets fired from her job at a hamburger place; then, in the credits, we find it’s directed by a most-unlikely Robert Zemeckis.*)
What Lucy can’t easily overcome, though, is a photo (one of many around the house) that seems to be her as a child although Jake says it’s him. Another disconcerting element emerges after dinner as Mom begins suffering from her ongoing tinnitus bouts, which hadn’t previously been any problem.
*Robert Criss, ScreenRant: Zemeckis as “directing” this boilerplate romance is “the perfect balance between believable and absurd. Which, to be honest, sort of perfectly sums up the entire film.” Yeah!
After she takes her phone call Lucy finds no one else downstairs, goes upstairs to prowl around Jake’s old room where an older version of Dad comes in, now suffering from dementia, after which she finds Jake in a bedroom with notably-aged-Mom trying not-too-successfully to eat while Lucy’s concerned about the rising blizzard, wants to leave. Before that happens, though, Lucy’s back downstairs, encounters a younger version of Mom than she’s yet seen, agrees to go into the basement to put a nightgown into the washer (already full of the janitor’s uniforms)—much to Jake’s dismay—where she finds her paintings on posters for artist Ralph Albert Blakelock, but as they leave Mom’s elderly again, seemingly asleep (although she looks dead), Dad’s now younger than we’ve yet seen him, as Jake gets the oft-bragged-about-chains onto the car so off they go through the increasing snow. As they drive on they find themselves in a rather tense discussion of A Woman Under the Influence (John Cassavetes, 1974), with Jake trying to defend Mable (Gina Rowlands' character) while Lucy ultimately castigates her, exactly citing Pauline Kael's review (we’d earlier seen a Kael anthology in Jake’s old bedroom). This leads to some more bickering (and a return of Lucy’s VO about ending the relationship), then a truce as they stop at a Tulsey Town outlet (intended to be Dairy Queen—as in the book—but Kaufman couldn’t get needed permission), oddly open during this snowstorm where Lucy orders a couple of “Brrrs” (a twist on DQ’s Blizzard, a thick swirl of ice cream with other ingredients [pumpkin pie, brownie dough, etc.]), has a quick exchange with a couple of blonde teen girls we’ve seen before (Hadley Robinson, Gus Birney) in a quick shot making fun of the high-school-janitor (giving us—or at least me, upon a second viewing—the first clear clue as to what’s going on here) before a brunette (Abby Quinn) gives Lucy some quite unnerving advice.
⇒Back on the road, Jake and Lucy soon realize they're tired of their overly-sweet-treats so he pulls off the highway in search of a trash can, ends up back at his old high school, quarrels some more with Lucy, they kiss and reconcile but Jake says he sees our same old janitor watching them so he storms into the school to confront him; Lucy’s exasperated but accidently locks herself out of the car so she goes into the school as well, looking for Jake. Instead, she runs into the janitor, complains about her boyfriend (but curiously leaves the impression Jake never made contact with her at that bar-trivia-night) but takes a softer tone with the old man’s encouragement. Soon, she finds Jake but they step aside when other versions of themselves (Unity Phelan, Ryan Steele) enter the hallway, begin a ballet number from Oklahoma (with, essentially, Jake as Curly, Lucy as Laurey, a younger janitor [Frederick E. Wodin] as Jud) that takes them into the gym (where it’s snowing inside), ending with Jake/Curly dead from a stabbing by the janitor/Jud (whereas it’s just the opposite in the play).⇐
⇒As this increasing strangeness draws to an end the janitor goes back to his truck where he seems to suffer a mental breakdown (including seeing the old animated Tulsey Town ad on the inside of his windshield), so he sheds his clothes, follows an animated talking pig (maggots on its belly) back into the school where in the auditorium an older version of Jake (not really older, just wearing “aging” high-school-theater-makeup—as I did, at Ball High School, Galveston, TX, spring 1966 [senior year], as Mr. Sumata’s father in our production of Teahouse of the August Moon) accepts what seems to be a Nobel Prize (using the Nobel acceptance speech of John Nash [Russell Crowe] from A Beautiful Mind [Ron Howard, 2001]) then sings Jud’s melancholy song, "Lonely Room," (“And the girl I want Ain’t afraid of my arms And her own soft arms keep me warm […] It was all a pack o’ lies I’m awake in a lonely room”) from Oklahoma as the audience rises for an ovation (I'll use a clip with French subtitles for all you multi-linguists), including all the previous characters from the film in the same sort of obvious-aged-makeup. This fades to blue, next morning (in bright sunshine) we see a vehicle (seemingly Jake’s car, not the janitor’s pickup) covered in snow as the credits roll (so tiny you need to get up close to your TV screen to read them; even then a magnifying glass might not hurt) but this truly odd experience comes to a inconclusive close (yet several analyses of the film are emphatic the janitor committed suicide, even as we see nothing to verify it except the mood of “Lonely Room”).⇐
So What? Now, the problem with what I’ve just described for you in overwrought detail in What Happens is that it may not have happened at all so (except for those who’ve already read the book this film’s adapted from [much of that narrative—minus all the Oklahoma references—parallels major plot events of the film so if you’d like a spoiler-filled-summary of the original text, go here]) I’ve got to veer back into my own Spoiler-Alert-Territory to discuss what seems to be really occurring in I’m Thinking of Ending Things. ⇒The primary revelation is “Lucy,” or whatever her name is, doesn’t truly exist except as a mental construct of Jake’s who never made contact with her years ago at that bar-trivia-contest but instead conjured her up as a fantasy girlfriend to give some meaning to his isolated life—but wait, there’s more! If, like unsuspecting-me, you hadn’t figured this out already, even the Jake we see is just a memory from the younger life of the janitor who, despite his interest in a good number of art, science, and social topics, never really made much of himself beyond that remote high-school, simply becoming a janitor there despondent over his empty existence, filling his mind with the “Lucy” construct, attempting to retool his earlier life, work out his conflicting feelings toward his parents, find some reason to not be “ending things,” not in the Lucy-Jake-relationship but in his own life. As noted before, in the film we don’t really know what happens to him (death’s implied, though), but in the book the janitor gives fantasy Lucy a coat hanger to stab/kill herself, which overtly leads to old Jake’s demise as well. So, in retrospect we can only assume the early scenes in the film of the janitor going to work, cleaning the school while yet-another-production of Oklahoma is in progress are among the few actual events transpiring in this story because everything involving “Lucy,” younger Jake, his parents, the late-night-stop at Tulsey Town, all of the Oklahoma-related-activities in the high-school involving Lucy, Jake, and the janitor, then Jake’s “prize acceptance responses” (for acumen, maybe?) are all only projections in the old man’s distressed mind (including how his avatar kills Jake’s avatar after the ballet scene, implying the older man wants to assert himself as triumphant in this “triangle,” not needing the remembrance/reconstruction of his younger self as the victor in the sad story of his life—although younger/older Jakes seem to merge in that final Nobel scene as if this troubled guy’s trying desperately to find some form of inner-balance, even if it’s just as obviously-artificial as is that amateur-aging-makeup on everyone in this auditorium.)⇐
⇒We can’t know if the janitor really goes back into the school naked (it's doubtful if he’s conversing with an animated pig, though) nor does Kaufman really want us to know fully what he’s up to in this story, making it more ambiguous, wider-ranging than the source book which sounds strange enough to begin with. Just below I’ll link you to a few spoiler-laden-explorations/attempts at explanations of what’s going on here, but, as with all great art—no matter the medium—the ultimate discoveries belong with the audience, even as confusions, disagreements, no resolutions from a shared, sugary “Brrr” may prevent any conclusive sense of closure among those discussing content, intent, impact, value, getting me back to why I’m glad I hadn’t first read the I'm Thinking ... novel before seeing this fascinating, disturbing film where Lucy takes on more of an independent life than Jake intended for her to have, struggling against his ultimate control even as she’s not clear why he has it. By the way, as for that end shot where the snow-covered-car seems to be the one Jake was driving in his older-self's fantasy-narrative rather than the janitor’s actual pickup, all I can offer is Kaufman having a bit of final fun with us, forcing us to once again rethink what we assume we’ve figured out about this unique, melancholy tale. (In a final aside, I’ll note it had been awhile since I first read a little about this film, assuming the title referred to Jake as a troubled, possible suicide-statistic because any blurb I noted about I’m Thinking … spoke of how somber, depressing this film is. But, while that assumption of mine proved to be accurate, I take no credit for it because I was immediately switched off of that idea with Lucy’s early-on-use of that phrase to mean ending her relationship with Jake, which I took at face value until almost the very end. I’d love to brag about how I’d figured out the mysteries of this film before I even saw it, but in all good conscience all I can say is I stumbled onto the secret without realizing it, until I read the various analyses I’ve cited elsewhere in this review.)⇐
I can’t blame you if you’re perturbed with me for not making more of my thoughts about I’m Thinking of Ending Things available to share outside of the realm of spoiler revelations, but there’s so much more in the dense construction of this film that I haven’t even mentioned given how long I’ve rambled on already I couldn't say much more without either overwhelming you with detail I can’t completely explain (because of spoilers, as well as my own obliviousness in trying to comprehend all that’s buried near or far below the surface-action here, just as Jake tries to keep Lucy out of the basement, as it represents the easy trope of hidden danger from horror movies as well as the psychological-embodiment of his repressed memories, fears, denied realities he’s tried to bury deep within his own psyche). However, once you’ve seen the film (with my strongest recommendation to do so) or given into the temptation to read all those blued-sentences above you’d then be ready for some deeper probings into this film from others with excellent insights but still will be spouting spoilers if you’re not yet ready to become aware of them so tread carefully into these 3 links: Josh Rottenberg of the Los Angeles Times, concludes his analysis with " ‘In a way, it is a psychological horror film — it’s just not a genre film,’ Kaufman says. ‘It’s about the horror of different elements of the human psyche, of human life.’ "; Slate interviewer Dana Stevens carries on a long conversation (1:07:38) with Matthew Dessem about, among other topics, Lucy’s connection to those various artists Jake's so intrigued by.
Then there’s IndieWire’s Eric Kohn who brings Kaufman’s own viewpoint more actively into these conversations: " ‘I’m not really big on explaining what things are,’ the writer-director said in a phone interview. ‘I let people have their experiences, so I don’t really have expectations about what people are going to think. I really do support anybody’s interpretation.’ […] ‘I don’t know if it was an epiphany or breakdown with ‘Adaptation,’ but since then, I’ve found that I’m most successful with adaptations when I allow myself to take it and do with it whatever makes sense to me,’ he said. ‘If I don’t allow that to happen, then I end up with something that feels dead to me.’ " I’ll admit, some of you might feel this film’s dead to you given its odd structure, its disturbing aspects, its unsettling incorporation of a generally-cherished-musical, so if you feel you have no interest in it either from my descriptions or from seeing it directly then that’s valid, but for me this is one of those grand cinematic experiences that’s fascinating from the start—even if I’m not initially clear on what’s happening—continues to keep me involved, even when I see it again knowing what to expect from scene to scene (a different kind of experience from knowing what’s to come on screen from having first read the novel, and its unanticipated-ending, denying me that great pleasure of pure cinematic discovery).
Without (most of) us fully realizing it at the time (me for sure), Lucy sets the surreal, unsettling tone of this film in motion early on as they’re driving through the snow toward Jake’s parents’ farm when she sees a new swing set in front of a dilapidated, abandoned house, wondering why in the world something hopeful and life-affirming would co-exist with something dead, uninhabited. It makes no sense to her, Jake can’t come up with any viable explanation either (even though he attempts to do so), and we don’t return to this image/question later in the story for exploration even as it forewarns us something unnecessarily-odd’s already intruded on this initially-joyful-beginning. At first Lucy jumps joyfully into Jake’s car when they begin their soon-to-be-unraveling-roadtrip, but then she surprises us with her rumination about possibly ending the relationship even before it’s 2 months old, a thought Jake seems vaguely aware of even though she didn’t voice it; things are already getting a bit strange within the first 5 min., then the swing set conundrum pushes us further into unanticipated territory, increasingly matching the mood of this grey wintery day with increasing snowfall, preventing us along with the characters from being able to see much beyond the immediate present with its constantly shifting tones and unanticipated occurrences. (The mood of this film early on [not its surreal aspects] reminds me of fragments of a song I wrote in my head one dismal winter day decades ago driving from Ft. Worth to Austin, TX, returning home after an argument with my then-college-girlfriend [an actual relationship, not a fantasy projection as I often did, like Jake, when trying to find the nerve to ask out someone I’d just met]: “The highway’s mighty lonely in the middle of December […] It’s not that I don’t know where I’m going I’m just not sure I want to go” [that’s all I remember, but I had more verses; a friend showed it to his English-lit prof who said it had promise but obviously it never was a radio hit, just like Jake desired to be known for acumen, not diligence].)
Bottom Line Final Comments: I always feel like I’m going out on a critical limb when I rarely venture into my rarified-territory above 4 stars-ratings, as that often implies this will be my choice for Best Film of the Year, a risky proposition given it’s only early September with many more releases still to come—for that matter, Tenet (Christopher Nolan) is already making the rounds in nearly 3,000 domestic (U.S.-Canada) theaters, taking in $20.2 million in northern-North American-venues (but not for me, at least not yet) on its long-anticipated-debut-weekend (plus another $126 million internationally), which holds tremendous attraction for me although I don’t know when I’ll have the chance or be willing to subject my 72-year-old-body to such an indoor challenge no matter what attempts are being made at social distancing (besides, the way anti-COVID masks fog up my glasses I’d probably have a hell of a time trying to take notes anyway, even if my little flashlight’s not close enough to bother anyone). While I gave 5 stars to a couple of classics re-released earlier than late fall in their respective years, the only time I’ve gone above 4 stars for something new this early was for The Master (Thomas Paul Anderson; review in our September 27, 2012 posting)—Fences (Denzel Washington, 2016) doesn’t count because my January 4, January 12, 2017 reviews came very early that year simply because I didn’t see this magnificent film until 2016 was about over; same thing with Vice (Adam McKay, 2018) because my early 2019 review again resulted from a late-December-viewing. Still, I remember how Annie Hall (Woody Allen, 1977) and Fargo (Joel Coen, 1996) were released in April and March of their respective years, easily the best in my opinion (although the latter didn’t follow Annie … by getting the Best Picture Oscar [losing to The English Patient {Anthony Minghella}]; it did win for Best Actress, Original Screenplay). Anyway, I’ve already proven I can go to the extremes of 4½-5 stars for 2 films released in a given year—Fences and Nocturnal Animals (Tom Ford, 2016; review in our December 8, 2016 posting)—even as I have to choose between them in my annual Top 10 (Fences, 5 stars, won that contest), so if something else of (or better than) the caliber of I’m Thinking of Ending Things comes along before late February 2021 (if the Oscars can extend their deadline due to coronavirus delays I can do the same with my internationally-known [?] Top 10 list) then I welcome it, celebrating such grand-cinematic-abundance.
While the CCAL’s not going as high as me for a change (often they're collectively higher)—Rotten Tomatoes offers 85% positive reviews, Metacritic’s folks are enthusiastic for them but still with a 79% average score (they’re harder to please; of 47 2020 releases both they and I reviewed they’ve gotten to 79% or higher only 5 times whereas at RT you just have to get at least 60% positive reactions to be certified “fresh” [of those same overlapping 47 releases only 7 of them at RT fell below their mark into the “rotten” category])—they’re still supportive of I’m Thinking of Ending Things so maybe this time I’m not just the crazy guy on the Left Coast coming in higher or lower than their averages (of those previous 46 releases of 2020 we all offered reviews on, I agreed with some of their numbers 24 times, mostly with MC because a simple “yes/no” at RT inevitably leads to higher scores which I might not match). Weird as it is, this latest Charlie Kaufman exercise is a fascinating exploration of the power of the mind (even when it gets some specifics confused or tentative at times) made in such a way as to be mysterious, disturbing, incomplete in resolution (all of which gives us more to think, discuss, argue about so that it can live in our consciousnesses long after the viewing[s] is[are] over). Plemons is solid in his restrained manner, with tension and hostility bubbling just beneath the surface even as Jake attempts to find peace or even some joviality, but the acting honors go mainly to Buckley whose mastery of a wide range of emotions gives her character a degree of depth the situation (and Jake) didn’t seem to anticipate when it all started, while Collette’s bizarre depiction of Mom is successfully disturbing, her outbursts of laughter somewhere between joyous acceptance of her son and his new mate or outright insanity, yet she’s always sympathetic in such loving-intentions.
Given the surreal aspects of this film, the nebulous nature of Lucy I’ve easily gone to one of my favorite songs as my usual tactic of a Musical Metaphor to bring closure to this everlasting-review, Bob Dylan’s “Visions of Johanna” (from his 1966 Blonde on Blonde album) at https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=AwuCF5lYqEE because what he’s singing about is as inscrutable as much of what Kaufman’s showing us with one of the names ascribed to ambiguous-Lucy being Louisa, reminding me of Louise in the song where “She’s delicate and seems like the mirror [… yet] The ghost of ‘lectricity howls in the bones of her face” (my wife, Nina's, favorite line of Dylan's lyrics) just as Jake’s fascination with many aspects of the arts reminds me of the line “Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial […] But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues You can tell by the way she smiles.” Truly, Jake “[…] writes everything’s been returned which was owed,” even as his aging in this story (can’t say more about that here; sorry) also brings me to Paul Simon’s short "Bookends Theme (Reprise)" (on the 1968 Bookends album), concisely telling Jake’s entire story as “Preserve your memories, they’re all that’s left you.” These memories provide both comfort and anxiety for Jake, as probably such remembrances of “woulda, coulda, shoulda” might impact all of us, attempting to offer solace but not always in the contained, anticipated ways we need. If you choose to endure all this (come on, give it a shot), free with Netflix streaming subscriptions or as part of their 30-day-trial-offer.
Short Takes
Suggestions for TCM cablecasts
At least until the pandemic subsides Two Guys also want to encourage you to consider movies you might be interested in that don’t require subscriptions to Netflix, Amazon Prime, similar Internet platforms (we may well be stuck inside for longer than those 30-day-free-initial-offers), or premium-tier-cable-TV-fees. While there are a good number of video networks offering movies of various sorts (mostly broken up by commercials), one dependable source of fine cinematic programming is Turner Classic Movies (available in lots of basic-cable-packages) so I’ll be offering suggestions of possible choices for you running from Thursday afternoon of the current week (I usually get this blog posted by early Thursday mornings) on through Thursday morning of the following week. All times are U.S. Eastern Daylight so if you see something of interest please verify actual show time in your area for the day listed. These recommendations are my particular favorites (no matter when they’re on, although some of those early-day-ones might need to be recorded, watched later), but there’s considerably more to pick from you might like better; feel free to explore their entire schedule here. You can also click on that + sign just at the right of each listing to get additional, useful info.
Thursday September 10, 2020
10:15 PM MASH (Robert Altman, 1970) Inspired the long-running, beloved TV series but much darker, about U.S. battlefield doctors during the Korean War, some not convinced of the “glory” of their mission; stars, among others, Donald Sutherland, Elliott Gould, Sally Kellerman, Robert Duvall, Gary Burghoff. It won the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay (nominated for 4 others, lost 3 to the more patriotic [of sorts] military film, Patton, but did get Cannes Film Festival’s ultimate Palme d’Or).
Saturday September 12, 2020
2:45 AM Plan 9 from Outer Space (Ed Wood, 1959) I’m not noting this one for quality purposes but instead to call attention to its “fame” as possibly the worst movie ever made as aliens attempt to take over Earth with an army of resurrected zombies. Epitome of low-budget production values, atrocious script, horrid acting, all of which contribute to its cult value. Supposedly stars Bela Lugosi but he died early on, replaced by another actor hiding his face behind a cape, plus no one else you’d likely know.
12:00 PM Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944) Most marvelous film noir co-written by Wilder and Raymond Chandler about a scheming housewife (Barbara Stanwyck) working with a clearly shady insurance salesman (Fred McMurray) to kill her husband, collect a big payout, but a claims adjuster (Edward G. Robinson) smells a rat so the deadly plot begins to unravel, betrayals increase (inspired Body Heat [Lawrence Kasdan, 1981] as a sort of glorious remake several unsettled decades later).
Sunday September 13, 2020
1:30 AM The China Syndrome (James Bridges, 1979) Chilling then, still a grim warning about nuclear power plant meltdowns as significant ones have occurred in the ensuing decades. A TV reporter (Jane Fonda) and her cameraman (Michael Douglas) are filming a story at an L.A.-area plant when a problem occurs, brought under control by a supervisor (Jack Lemmon) who further investigates, finds a major construction fault, then many crises occur. Up for 4 Oscars, no wins.
Wednesday September 16, 2020
6:15 PM Cat Ballou (Elliot Siverstein, 1965) Grand comedy masquerading as a western: Aspiring schoolteacher (Jane Fonda) returns home, finds father’s ranch about to be lost to an unscrupulous corporation, Dad under threat from gunman Tim Strawn (Lee Marvin) so gunfighter Ked Shelleen’s (also Marvin) hired but proves to be a drunk (with a drunken horse) who only shoots straight when he’s really pickled. Marvin won the Best Actor Oscar (movie nominated for 4 more; no further wins).
If you’d like your own PDF of the rating/summary of this week's review, suggestions for TCM cablecasts, links to Two Guys info click this link to access then save, print, or whatever you need.
Other Cinema-Related Stuff: Here are some extra items for your interest: (1) Tenet in theaters, Mulan in streaming may show the future for movie blockbusters; (2) Oscar-nomination possibilities for I'm Thinking of Ending Things (I already have enough links in the review so I saved this one for a different location); (3) New inclusion standards for Best Picture Oscar consideration, beginning in 2022; the aim is to force more inclusion of under-represented segments of society in industry areas that can include casting, subject matter, production crews, apprenticeships or internships, marketing (the intentions are noble, but I can already hear the “anti-PC" outcries from MAGA World). As usual for now I’ll close out this section with Joni Mitchell’s "Big Yellow Taxi" (from her 1970 Ladies of the Canyon album)—because “You don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone”—and a reminder to search streaming/rental/purchase movie options at JustWatch.
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Here’s more information about I’m Thinking of Ending Things:
https://www.netflix.com/title/80211559 (typical skimpy Netflix official site)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ruSWSb5TuE (14:32 video comparing the book and the
film—with this analyst arguing there’s a larger use of needed clarity in the novel [she finds more problems with the cinematic version than I do, encourages reading the book first to which I also disagree because then too much of the effective-weirdness of the film would be known before you see it; apparently, the book’s more overt about explaining, at the end at least, what’s going on in
this mysterious story]—along with an explanation of the ending [ad interruption at about 5:25])
https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/im_thinking_of_ending_things
https://www.metacritic.com/movie/im-thinking-of-ending-things
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If you’d rather contact Ken directly rather than leaving a comment here please use my email address of kenburke409@gmail.com—type it directly if the link doesn’t work. (But if you truly have too much time on your hands you might want to explore some even-longer-and-more-obtuse-than-my-film-reviews-academic-articles about various cinematic topics at my website, https://kenburke.academia.edu, which could really give you something to talk to me about.)
If we did talk, though, you’d easily see how my early-70s-age informs my references, Musical Metaphors, etc. in these reviews because I’m clearly a guy of the later 20th century, not so much the contemporary world. I’ve come to accept my ongoing situation, though, realizing we all (if fate allows) keep getting older, we just have to embrace it, as Joni Mitchell did so well in "The Circle Game," offering sage advice even when she was quite young herself.
By the way, if you’re ever at The Hotel California knock on my door—but you know what the check-out policy is so be prepared to stay for awhile (quite an eternal while, in fact). Ken
P.S. Just to show that I haven’t fully flushed Texas out of my system here’s an alternative destination for you, Home in a Texas Bar, with Gary P. Nunn and Jerry Jeff Walker. But wherever the rest of my body may be my heart’s always with my longtime-companion, lover, and wife, Nina Kindblad, so here’s our favorite shared song—Neil Young’s "Harvest Moon"
—from the performance we saw at the Desert Trip concerts in Indio, CA on October 15, 2016 (as a full moon was rising over the stadium) because “I’m still in love with you,” my dearest, a never-changing-reality even as the moon waxes and wanes over the months/years to come.
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