Christopher Guest got a taste for the so-called
mockumentary sub-genre when he wrote and starred in Rob Reiner’s This Is Spinal Tap, the classic comedy
that pretends to be a documentary about an 80s hair metal band. Starting in the
mid-90s, Guest began writing and directing his own mockumentary style films
beginning with Waiting for Guffman,
which focuses on a small town community theater production. My favorite of his
films, however, is Best in Show,
about the quirky characters involved in the fictional Mayflower Kennel Club Dog
Show in Philadelphia.
A blog mostly dedicated to cinema (including both new and old film reviews; commentary; and as the URL suggests - movie lists, although it has been lacking in this area to be honest), but on occasion touching on other areas of personal interest to me.
Showing posts with label John Michael Higgins. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Michael Higgins. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
We Bought a Zoo Movie Review
Oh Cameron Crowe! Where, oh where did you go? Once upon a
time you made movies I really enjoyed. now I have to return to my copies of Say Anything and Almost Famous for a taste of your past glory. Maybe it’s me who’s
changed and I no longer fall for the genial affability of your characters
wrapped up in kitschy sentiment. Crowe’s latest serving of pop sentimentality
is based on a memoir by Benjamin Mee. That the film is “based on a true story”
makes me dislike it even more as that’s generally a red flag that it’s trying
to absolve itself of criticism by virtue of the fact that it really happened.
We Bought a Zoo
is about a thrill-seeking journalist played by Matt Damon who, in the wake of
his wife’s death, quits his job and uses his dad’s inheritance money to buy an
18 acre farm that is home to a defunct and dilapidated zoo. His older brother
(Thomas Hayden Church, channeling his character from Sideways), drawing on his own experiences, warns Benjamin not to
engage in simple escapism. But there wouldn’t be much of a story if he didn’t
forge ahead with a project that would ultimately become life-affirming and
self-actualizing. And by the way, it will also help his teenage son Dylan (Colin
Ford) in the end, a youth whose social troubles are signaled, with no sense of
irony whatsoever, by his propensity for creating art that is morbid in nature. “Why
can’t he express himself with less disturbing images,” his obtuse art teacher
laments. I’m not making this up. This is Crowe’s idea of how to depict a
teenager with issues.
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