going to the moivies

Going to the movies in America is a bit like visiting a temple.  I've been twice now, once in NY and here last night.  I went in NY by default, as I was much too slow with the halftix stuff, and missed everything that might have been of interest (for one I thought the New Yorker theatre guide might have been of practical use). So I went to the movies instead, and even then, I didn't get to see what I wanted (Little Miss Sunshine), and had to make do with World Trade Center, as it looked like the only thing that might remotely be of interest (truly; all the other stuff has been playing on the planes.  I wondered if Qantas might put WTC on its inflight entertainment system, but even they're not that crass).

The multiplex centre I visited in NY was at least three very big stories high, with about 25 theatres, and involved traipsing from one floor to another by escalator.  Once you're in, no one checks your  ticket, and people seemed to be shopping around; at first I thought people might have been walking out of WTC in horror, but now I suspect they were seeing if there was anything better on.  Halfway through the screening, a handful of youths came in and yelled out: 'This a good movie?  Y'all enjoying yourselves?'  The cinema in SF was also suitably grand, with three storeys, including a computer shop, a book shop and some eateries on the first floor.  (I asked for a single scoop ice-cream at the 'candy bar' and got two scoops of the same flavour instead -- more of that anti-French approach to portion size.)

I kinda wondered what Americans would be like in their natural habitat, watching movies, particularly something like WTC in NY.  Would they gasp and cry out curses against terrorrists?  Actually, they weren't that much more interactive than Australians (and I was fairly interactive in the opening scenes of WTC).  The good part of WTC -- if this is good -- is the extremely graphic evocation of 9/11.  I thought I was fairly familiar with these images now, but I found myself wincing -- the film does bring the horror back.

The bad part is the simplistic, jingoistic storyline.  The film centres on the experiences of two emergency workers who were amongst the handful of people to be pulled out of the rubble.  Although their experiences were fairly horrific, the walkie-talkie conversation isn't sufficiently interesting to carry the first part of the film. These emergency workers also have beautiful wives, beautiful houses and beatiful families, etc -- which seems unlikely for a pair of ordinary joes. It's a shame that they didn't choose a broader cross-section of people-interest stories to focus on. 

But the part of the film that is really godawful is the introduction of a scary, staring marine in mufti, a little reminiscent in manner of Himey in Get Smart (tho not as funny).  After seeing the collapse of the Twin Towers from his office, scary, staring marine goes to church, prays, thanks God for making him strong to protect other people, then goes off and has a really short haircut (as you do), and goes stalking through the rubble till he finds the emergency workers.  He says things like: 'God has put a curtain (i.e. smoke) across so we cannot see the full destruction) and 'I will avenge this'.  (At the end of the film, the credits tell us he went off to Iraq.)  Without any direct comments about Islam or jihad being made, the film has strongly religious subtexts and imagery (many Christian and apocalyptic references, including a vision of a sacred heart Jesus with a water bottle, which I rather liked).  There's no doubt that the war on terror is being construed as a a holy war.

So...awful.  Don't go and see.  On the other hand, Little Miss Sunshine, which I saw last night, is a must see, if you like films in the vein of American Splendor, Happiness, etc, about dysfunctional functional families.  The basic situation is this: seven-year-old Olive gets through to the beauty pageant finals for Little Miss Sunshine.  Olive is a dag who, unbeknown to the rest of her family, has been tutored in some risque dance moves by her sleazy grandad. The entire family decide to travel down from Alberqueque so Olive can attend the pageant.  They can't afford flights, as Olive's father has given up his day job to market a 9-step success plan he's developed, so the other option is for them to drive down in an old Kombi that only starts in third gear.  Some family members also can't be left alone, like Uncle Frank, the nation's number 1 Proust scholar, who recently tried committing suicide after the number 2 scholar stole his lover. Uncle Frank is now sharing a room with his fifteen year-old nephew, who's taken a vow of silence after reading Nietzsche.  You get the picture.  My only regret was that some of these gems of subplot weren't developed further.  Toni Colette also gives a great performance as the mother and 'heart' of this dysfunctional family.

It's my last day here...yesterday I was hungover from clubbing with Steph, so it took me till midday to get my arse into gear, at which point I cycled over the Golden Gate bridge, which looked like some kind of Asian minimalist painting in the mists. (Yet another long, clumsy sentence -- oh dear.)

Today, it's warmer.  I'm going to Alcatraz, and then I'll go on another ride, this time to the Golden Gate gardens.  I don't know if Alcatraz is a dumb tourist thing to do; I'll find out I guess.

(This is actually an old post that I didn't finish in time.  Now I'm back.)

Comments

[suso]

Yes I read a political opinion piece about WTC about how awful it is that Iraq is implicitly blamed for the attacks via that marine character. What on earth can Oliver Stone be thinking?

[whitebait]

I really think Qantas are that crass.