I want your soul.

It's true, I have been lazy of late. I had a real bummer of a week, for no real reason. I think I just had a case of the "mean reds," as Holly Golightly would say. But I think I'm done wallowing now. I'm ready to come out of my Bat Cave, and I wish that was a metaphor. But I really have a Bat Cave in my room. Instead of having a bed underneath my bunk bed, I have a dresser topped with endless dvds and a pink chair...and Batman sheets draped over the back. Yep. Bat Cave. That was obviously something you needed to know about me.

Anyway. Tuesday night, I went to go see The Seafarer at Steppenwolf. Finally. I went by myself, which is something I've never done, and it was surprisingly nice. I am ashamed to admit that I hadn't gotten over to Steppenwolf since August, so it was nice and nostalgic. I ate at the same restaurant down the block I ate at that, and passed the spot where I saw Kathy Baker after the show back in August, at which time it was all I could do not to "JILL BROCK!" her. And the people who work at Steppenwolf are supremely sweet. I had some enlightened conversations with those working the box office and some ushers. I just adore theatre people, and the whole atmosphere really. There's no better feeling in the world.

The show itself was phenomenal, and I had surprisingly perfect seats considering I got student rush tickets. But that's the nice thing about Steppenwolf's downstairs theatre - there really isn't a bad seat in the house. John Mahoney, from Frasier, was in the show, to the sheer delight of my Frasier-worshipping friends, Haynes. He was fantastic, as was everyone in it, especially the actor who played Mr. Lockhart, who I immediately recognized as Ben's lawyer from LOST, which may or may not be to my credit.

The first act is admittedly slow, and has you wondering where this is all going because it seems rather aimless. But by the end of the first act, I was literally on the edge of my seat and when the theatre goes black it's a bit of a shock to the system. The second act is brilliant and intense and staggering. I believe there were several instances when I forgot to breathe. I highly recommend it.

We're watching It Happened One Night in class tonight. Oh, Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, how I adore you both.

Slice of life

Typically, I don't post about "real life" other than the casual throwaway line, but today it's necessary.

I'm sure Chicago isn't the only place around that experienced a serious rise in temperature this weekend. But Chicago being what it is, it took the city by storm. We're used to the kind of freezing wind that rips the flesh off your face. And today, we didn't even need our winter coats. People came out of the woodwork. Children roamed the street! Do you know how long it's been since we've seen children?

My roommate Taylor and I walked a total of four miles this afternoon, down the Magnificent Mile to the Water Tower and back. Granted, whatever weight was lost with the exercise was regained thanks to Chipotle, but it still felt fantastic. Completely exhilarating. And as we crossed the canal, this sight awaited us and I just had to take a picture:



But somehow, despite this good weather, we still ended up at the movies. (Story of my life.) Revolutionary Road, finally. Fantastic film, if incredibly depressing. It took some time for it to truly hit me, but once it did, I was knocked out and dragged off. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was grateful. I mean, these two characters in the film were so phenomenally and profoundly unhappy that it makes you grateful for even the tiniest bit of happiness.

The day ended as all days ought to - watching Barbra Streisand. My friends Kate and Brooklyn demanded my copy of The Mirror Has Two Faces, so we watched that, followed by Streisand's "Timeless" concert on dvd.

Really, it was a perfect day. Too bad now I have a mountain of work to complete for my Monday morning Fiction Writing class. Joy.

He adored Manhattan

I admit to being a devoted Woody Allen fan. I could not possibly care less about what he does in his personal life, his films are incomparable. The good ones anyway.

Here, Paste magazine has listed its opinion of Allen's top ten. The article goes into a deeper explanation, but here are the listed ten:

10) Sweet and Lowdown
9) Match Point
8) Love and Death
7) Vicky Cristina Barcelona
6) Bullets over Broadway
5) Crimes and Misdemeanors
4) The Purple Rose of Cairo
3) Annie Hall
2) Hannah and Her Sisters
1) Manhattan

Before I go into my thoughts on the list above, I should preface this by noting that I have a very clear bias for his films with Diane Keaton, and against his films with Mia Farrow. I always have. Which is why I would immediately strike The Purple Rose of Cairo from the list, and in its place insert Play it Again, Sam.

That said, I'm extremely pleased to see Manhattan at number one, a place which is typically occupied by one of the two that precede it. It had always been one of my favorites, but last semester in my Aesthetics of Cinema class, I had to dissect it (specifically the cinematography) for a ten-page paper and I discovered that it really and truly has to be his best film. It's exquisite. And I would admittedly place Annie Hall ahead of Hannah and Her Sisters, though I suppose it doesn't really matter any.

I don't know if any of you are Woody Allen fans or would have an opinion, but I'd love to hear it.

It's a joke nobody knows

My head is full. Sometimes I feel that if I think anymore, I'll explode. But then of course, I can't afford not to think. I've been thinking about politics, award season, theatre, recycling, religious abstention, my imminent return to Chicago on Sunday, and of course, the ever-childish feeling of being left out.

Last year, I went to school in Washington, D.C. before transferring to school in Chicago this year. Some of my closest friends are, predictably, still there. And thanks to the strange and addictive networking tool that is Facebook, I've been bombarded with endless tales of their Inauguration adventures. It's hard to be happy for them when you're standing just outside the circle. I'd like to stop being human, just for a moment, and be able to jump for joy with them, but I can't.

I've been thinking about the new administration and the faith I have in them. The game is on now. I've been thinking about the film industry and its annual tradition of shameless self-congratulation. It's amazing how I managed to get so wrapped up in it. I'm thinking about the integrity of the struggling theatre scene, the show I'll be seeing in New York this weekend, and the shows I'm planning to see in Chicago as soon as I return. And I've been thinking about how much I can't afford it, and how little I care. [Incidentally, I've also been thinking that more people need to come to Chicago because it's incredible. And there's my obligatory Chi-town plug.]

I go to a pretty eco-friendly school, but I've been thinking about ways I can enhance that. I hate being just one person. Then again, that's all it takes. I've been re-reading The God Delusion for the third time, and thinking about minorities and being one. I've been thinking about school, and whether I could be successful in my chosen field without it.

And most importantly, I've been thinking that LOST will finally be on in three hours, and I can escape for a little while. Oh, entertainment. How I rely on you so unreasonably.

Last Chance Harvey

I'll make a real post soon, but I need to take a quick moment to recommend a movie currently in theatres.

Last Chance Harvey. See it. "Sublime" is really the only word I can think of to aptly describe it. It's like the Godiva chocolate of movies.

So do yourself a favor: see it, love it, pass it on. That's all.

Two Humourous Shores, One Pond

I was raised on the BBC. This is in part because my mother preferred to pretend she was British. Although this was true in heritage, she was born in Boston and therefore not of the directly British persuasion. When I was younger, I watched Casualty instead of E.R. I lived on Absolutely Fabulous, The Vicar of Dibley, Keeping Up Appearances, As Time Goes By, and more. French & Saunders was my life. American humor, at the time, was virtually lost on me. Unless of course you count Rugrats and Doug, and the occasional Kenan & Kel.

Last night, late in the evening when sleep was an elusive beast, I decided to have myself an Ab Fab marathon, beginning from the premiere episode of season one. It occurred to me as I was watching - and feel free to refute this statement if you disagree - that British comedy is just flat out funnier than American comedy.

I've been trying to discern why, both for my own knowledge and the benefit of this post, but it's still a little unclear. Maybe it's simply by default. Maybe British people think American comedy is funnier, who knows? Hell, maybe it's the accent.

Although I think it's possible that the British style is humor is a bit less crass. As Americans, we're so focused on being funny, in finding humor in odd places, while the British just seem to find humor wherever they go. Would Monty Python be as funny if it were done by Americans? Probably not. Would a show as brilliantly funny as Keeping Up Appearances be a success in the U.S.? Doubtful.

If you notice, Britcoms are exceedingly simple in terms of plot. An wildly immature mother and her stern daughter, a female vicar, an inexplicably haughty old woman and her classless sisters, a couple who reunites after forty years of leading separate lives. Simple, brilliant, and shockingly hilarious. Most episodes of Ab Fab don't have much going on in them. Often there are ten minute scenes of Edina and Saffron having an extended exchange in the kitchen, about nothing. And it's utterly hilarious. In the U.S., we don't laugh unless Jack McFarland puts on a gay spelling bee or Tracy Jordan dresses up like Thomas Jefferson. We laugh at what people do rather than what they say.

And then of course you have movies like This Is Spinal Tap, made by Americans about British people, that completely cast my theory to the wind. Damnit. Back to the drawing board.

...that's probably why he killed himself.

The initial plan was to make a post about the Golden Globes. How much Kate Winslet rocks, how much I adore Emma Thompson, how Sally Field was robbed, how Colin Farrell won something (seriously how did Colin Farrell win something?), and how Meryl Streep lost. Twice. But this has all been done to death already, I think.

So. This instead.

As a film student, folks are always asking me for film recommendations. I was on a cruise recently, and when my tablemates at dinner heard I was about this, their first remark was: "Name your top five films."

My response: "Uhhh...uhhh...well...let's see...hmm..."

Word to the wise: don't ask a film student for their favorite films. They will spontaneously combust before your very eyes. And while that would certainly be a sight to see, it's inadvisable for obvious reasons. That said, I think I'm going to start doing film recommendations here. Why? I don't know, because it's my blog and I'll do what I want! Or something.

The first film that has the honor of receiving my esteemed recommendation: The Big Chill

I recommend this film for many reasons, the first of which is it's relevant to everyone. If you have friends, it will mean something to you. And for most people, it will mean a lot. I could watch The Big Chill every single day (and go through periods when I do). I would still laugh, still cry, still be overwhelming attracted to Kevin Kline.

This movie is about people. How they change, and how they stay the same. The things that keep them alive, the things that they would die for, the things that make the in-between worthwhile. And it has some of the best one-liners in movie history. Not to mention one of the greatest ensemble casts ever assembled.

And to borrow a relatively new cliche: It's funny because it's true.

A Tough Act to Recognize

I have always belonged to the Court of Unpopular Opinion. I'm aware that isn't a real thing, but let's make it one for the purpose of this blog.

Grey's Anatomy? Hate it. The Hills? What, are you kidding? Despise it! Harry Potter? Over it! Twilight? You know the drill.

Meryl Streep? Okay, here we go.

Last night, watching the Critics' Choice Awards, I found myself face to face with a very real fear. Is it possible, is it really and truly possible, that Meryl Streep might win yet another Oscar? Am I the only one who is just a wee bit terrified of this prospect?

Now before you start jumping down my throat, I think Meryl Streep is fantastic actress. It's hard to deny this. But is she the greatest actress of all time? ...No. It's important to mention that I don't think it's possible to determine the greatest actress of all time in general. That's like trying to determine the best sex you've ever had or the greatest voice in a generation. It cannot be accurately and definitively done. Some actresses are better than others are comedy, some at drama, some on stage, some on film. Some are subtle, some are ostentatious and in your face. There are different styles, different fortes.

The Trouble with Meryl is that her talent has become assumed by the majority of moviegoers. It is assumed her performance will be brilliant, it is assumed that any film she deigns to appear in will be brilliant. No one actually stops to judge whether or not either or those things are true. Was Mamma Mia! a good movie? Great god in heaven, no. It was a terrible movie. It was a painful and cringe-worthy movie. Was Meryl Streep good in it? No. Let's be honest here. She was not. And yet you still see her racking up Golden Globe nominations and the like. For a performance that was not in any way worthy of an award.

If I were Meryl Streep, I would be insulted by this. I would be insulted that everyone just naturally assumed I was brilliant rather than really judging and analyzing my hard work for what it is. It's almost as if she need not put any effort into it at all. Look at The Devil Wears Prada - fun movie, good performances. But to receive an Oscar nomination for something like that? It's a joke. To be nominated alongside Helen Mirren for The Queen? Laughable. When I think of the other actors who are being robbed of nominations simply because it is in vogue to nominate Meryl whenever possible, it's embarrassing. Lavishing this woman with praise has become more of a tradition than a true honor.

I hate to rant and rave, but I just think it's a shame that it's come to this. And I'm relatively certain that, if they wanted to, Meryl Streep and Oprah could take over the world.

What a world it would be.

[I should note that this post is inspired in part by Nellamity Jane, who brought it to my attention that I am not all alone in my winter of Meryl discontent. And I'd like to take a second to pimp out her fantastic blog, Rogue Valley Girl.]