#the other is this pretentious guy who words his reviews in the most insufferable and try hard manner

[girl-bateman]

There is only room for ONE pretentious cinema critic in this town (blocks you on letterbox)

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

donna tartt’s ‘the goldfinch’: an attempt at a comprehensive review

Includes spoilers, because I still haven’t mastered the art of reviewing something without spoiling anything, because I am a dumbass.

It is with great trepidation that I step on my soapbox for this book, partly because I don’t want to be Sandra the Soccer Mom at a modern art exhibition who eyes the work with a disdainful sniff and, “My Bobby could do better than that with Crayola and construction paper!”, partly because too many people like this book for me to be comfortable with dragging it through the mud. Not that I particularly hated it; I view The Goldfinch with the same detachment I reserve for vanilla ice cream and jazz music: it exists, and some of it is good, but it’s not something that has me frothing at the mouth.

Having read (and loved) The Secret History, I was expecting beautiful writing, excessively dramatic and melancholic characters that I will hate with every fiber of my being, and a plot that will keep me hooked till the end. Having read The Goldfinch, my sentiments can be summed up in nine words: when you order a Coke but get a Pepsi.

Theodore is insufferable, pretentious and just an overall boring protagonist. I’ve read books with main characters I hate (*cough* Gone Girl *cough*), and I can tolerate arseholery, as long as it’s interesting arseholery. Theodore Decker couldn’t do me the courtesy of doing even that. That last monologue of his? Skimmed over the entirety; I couldn’t be fucked to go through pages’ worth of introspection and Analyses of Life. RIP to Theo and his sad boi hours, but I guess I’m just different. Almost everyone else in his life is far more interesting than him- Hagrid Hobie, Boris, Mrs. Barbour, Kitsey- hell, even Andy the Weeaboo.

Pippa’s essentially a watered-down version of Camila. I don’t have much to say about her except: :/.

And then we have Boris. A caricature if there ever was one- the over-glorified alcoholic, the drug-addicted genius. Utterly cartoonish. Draco in sparkly leather pants, but not too sparkly, because our man’s Heterosexual.

I’m assuming Hobie was supposed to be the big, loveable gentle giant- the one character we all loved no matter what, the only saving grace- but he falls short. Again, Hobie’s painfully boring and I couldn’t bring myself to care for him.

The beginning is one whiplash after the other- we go from adult Theodore to young Theodore after he has a dream about his mum (who I became fond of, for some reason), to his first encounter with Fabritius’ painting that sets off this series of very improbable events, to his mum being blasted to smithereens (RIP Mrs. Decker, I liked you), to Welty giving him the painting- which, now that I think about it: how did Welty take the painting in the first place? He obviously obtained the painting before the bomb went off, but given that the story takes place in the twenty-first century and they’re in the Museum of Modern Art in New York, you’d think there’d be tighter security. And where was Pippa in all of this (the book might’ve mentioned why she wasn’t with Welty at the time of the explosion but I’m not about to leaf through eight-hundred pages to find out)?

The part where Theo waits for his mum to come home is genuinely painful. My heart hurt for him and his mum; in other words, it made me Feel Sad Things, and I respect a book which can make me do that.

But the fact remains that most of Theo’s problems could’ve been avoided if he did away with the fucking painting. At first, I assumed that Welty’s instructions to find Hobie meant that they were both part of some art smuggling gig. Why did Welty give Theo the painting in the first place? What was he supposed to do with it?

Theo had plenty of opportunity to hand over the fucking thing- he’s thirteen, just barely a teenager, and admittedly I didn’t make the best of decisions at that age (that’s an understatement), but allow me to say this: Theodore, you fucking dumbass.

What’s even worse is that at the end, that’s all that happens. They hand over the painting, get half a million dollars, and that’s it. And I get that if Theo had done that in the first place, that would mean no story, but if your character has to make the dumbest decisions to move the plot forward, maybe you should reconsider.

There’s of course the argument that Theo’s attachment to the painting has to do with his mother’s love for it, and him holding onto that last memory of her, but it’s not like he’s holding onto her favorite necklace or her diary, or something she owned. I dunno, it just doesn’t make sense to me. I just can’t get over the fact that he just hands it over and walks away unscathed at the end- it makes zero sense to my reptilian brain. To describe what I felt after that anticlimactic conclusion: much like I did at the end of Guy de Maupassant’s The Diamond Necklace, only far less entertained.

The plot drags on for far too long, not to mention there’s large chunks of it that could be lopped off. The large section of the story that takes place in Vegas- easily disposable. Boris is the only catalyst to the plot that comes out of it- Xandra and Theo’s dad are pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

And then, near the end, much of the actual story is crammed into a relatively small number of pages. And this is going to be nitpicky, but by the time that rolled around (reuniting with Boris and the sequence of events afterwards), I was… pretty fucking bored. So instead of turning the last page with the euphoria that ending should’ve warranted (minus Theo’s #deep life analysis), it was more of a ‘thank god THAT’S over!’

The final few pages- oh, fuck, no. It’s the sort of angst-riddled pretentious bullshit people write in English Lit. It reads like the musings of that one weepy drunk uncle who stays way past he’s invited at family reunions and goes off on tangents about Life and His Experiences and the World and the Futility of Human Existence and Nature and Death. In other words: it’s fucking boring. No one cares, Theo.

Going through this might make it seem that I strongly dislike The Goldfinch. I assure you that’s far from the truth; it’s wonderfully written, and a decent read if you’ve got time to spare. I just tend to rate a book based on whether or not I would reread it, and I doubt I’ll ever reread The Goldfinch. It made me Feel, and there were parts of it that I want to frame and hang on my wall, or make a throw pillow out of. The book just wasn’t to my taste, overall

[charliejrogers]

I’m Thinking of Ending Things (Or, What Many Will Think About Midway Through This Movie)

You may be expecting a long review for this movie. I mean, let’s be honest, I dissected the shit out of Birds of Prey, to the point that it was almost inappropriate for the kind of movie it was. But this movie? The arthouse classic-to-be from the much-revered Charlie Kaufman (both writer and director here), I’m Thinking of Ending Things? A movie filled to the brim with symbolism and which refuses to commut itself to any one point of view or plane or reality? This guy’s gonna write about it for fucking eternity.

Well, no. It won’t be the case. Why? Because I don’t think I really got it. Sure, I could try to wax poetic about my thoughts on aging, time, whether there’s meaning in relationships, meaning to our lives (all themes the film raises and which serve as its central core) But it would just kinda sound bullshit coming from me.

So, yeah, this isn’t much of a plot movie. It starts with a young woman (Jessie Buckley) waiting in the street of a snowy quiet country town’s downtown for her boyfriend, Jake, (Jesse Plemons) of one month (or longer?) so that the two can join Jake’s parents for dinner. Despite taking this proverbial big step in her relationship, she’s wondering (evoking the film’s title) whether she should end things. Or is that really what the title is about. Like everything in this movie, every piece of dialogue every character, every suggestion of a chronology, things are laden with a second meaning. Part of your enjoyment from the film will derive from whether or not you enjoy being strung along for 135 minutes without ever really understanding what’s going on, what’s really being said, who these characters really are, or when/where the hell are we in the world?

Despite those tantalizing and exciting questions, I’m here to warn you now, nothing big or exciting happens in this film, at least by conventional movie standards. We watch the couple drive to the Jake’s parents’ house and that takes about 25 minutes of film time. We’re in the house with his parents for probably about 45 minutes. Then the drive home takes another 20-25 minutes. The scenes about driving are just that: two people in a car talking to one another without much event. It’s like the car ride scenes from your favorite buddy/road trip movie but with all the fun adventures taken out. Instead what we get are long, confusing conversations more akin to Matthew McConaughey’s time spent in a car on True Detective.

But one thing becomes exceedingly clear when we finally get to Jake’s parents’ house: the film’s banal settings (a country road, a farmhouse, a rural high school) belie a truth about the film. It is not set in our reality. Jake and the woman’s conversation on the car ride is full of reflections on the nature of time, aging, depression, and life. Jake is a slightly insufferable intellectual. He’s the kind of guy who says he doesn’t know a whole lot about musical theater and then proceed to list 15-20 musicals of various fame and obscurity. The whole scene feels as quirky and just-shy of overwritten, i.e. par for the course of a pretentious art house film such as this. But the mannerisms of Jake’s parents are more than can be attributed to a quirky film. His mother is a jealous, possessive neurotic played by Toni Collette in a way only she could and a twitchy, and his father is a lecherous rival obsessed with his girlfriend played by David Thewlis (a favorite actor of mine). And throughout the meal, the confident, know-it-all we knew from the drive regresses into the behavior of a weak, embarrassed child. These are caricatures taken word from word from a textbook on Freudian psychology more than they are believable humans. The film admits and confirms the Freudian aping rather explicitly.

But just when you think you understand what the film’s up to, it switches course. After dinner, the woman starts to explore their house and starts a journey through time (but, again, with none of the excitement that sentence would normally imply.) It’s my second favorite sequence in the film (the first being an interpretive dance that occurs towards the film’s end… yes, it’s THAT kind of film). It’s filmed and framed in the trappings of a horror movie, but there’s no jump scares or horrible truth to be found. It’s how I imagine someone would adapt the tone of the superb video game Gone Home (yes, I’m one of THOSE people). But yeah, there’s no horrible truth… except if you consider the inevitability of human decay and disease to be a terrible truth. Every room the woman stumbles upon finds Jake’s parents appear to be a different age and health than when she first got to the house, ranging from a mother decked out in 50s/60s apparel to old, feeble gentleman. From there the movie continues to refuse to stay in one place and becomes odder and odder. It’s then I realized to think of this movie of a totally abstract piece of art, like the dream sequences of The Sopranos or Buffy.

So what do I think is going on? Obviously spoilers for here on out. Despite getting the majority of the screen time, this is NOT a movie about the young woman. At the very beginning of the film we are introduced, briefly, to an older, portly gentleman in his late 70s, looking out a window. The film cuts back to that exact same room and window 30 seconds later, but in the old man’s place is Jesse Plemons’ Jake. From that I take it to mean the two are the same person, with Plemons representing the older Jake younger self (or imagined younger self). Alongside the main plot, we occasionally get images and short scenes of the older Jake, a janitor at a rural high school who lives alone. The intellect (or perhaps false sense of intellect) of his younger self is clearly not meeting its potential. He is mocked by students for his age and fragility. What I think we’re watching is this older Jake trying to make sense of what it means to be old and who is currently on the verge of suicide unable to see its meaning. Although I compared the film to a dream sequence, I don’t think it’s fair to reduce the whole thing to Jake’s dream. More I feel like we are seeing a manifestation of Jake’s subconscious thoughts on screen play out.

Who is the young woman then? I’m not sure. I doubt she represents any actual woman – she’s given a variety of names. She almost plays the part of our (and his) guide into Jake’s subconscious like Virgil to Dante, but she’s more than a void. I think she represents what Jake would want in a woman in his life, a confident woman who can see through Jake’s faults (but notably sees them and sees them clearly). She’s not overtly sexual like the women at the ice cream who clearly make Jake uncomfortable. But yet, it’s telling that even in his deepest, most private thoughts that I think we’re seeing, he cannot imagine that even his ideal woman would want to be with him.

We get lots of reasons for why Jake thinks things are like this. Clearly he holds resentment for his parents, even if he feels like it’s cliché to do so. But time is his true nemesis. For me the most telling scenes for my understanding of the movie comes at the end with the interpretive dance, which shows Jake and the young woman (or, at least, stand-ins for those two) engage in a beautiful display of courtship, love, and marriage, only for the young Jake stand-in to be violently by a representation of the older janitor Jake. Clearly Jake thinks of his current self as something wholly distinct from his younger self, and that the creature he is now, a creature created by time, has destroyed who he once was. Like many of us (or as many of us think), he peaked in high school, the last place where people gave him awards for being who he is. This detail adds a sadness to the fact that he works as a janitor at one now. And it is notable that the film’s journey ends there, at a high school, where inexplicably he is being awarded a lifetime achievement award. Achievement in what? It’s unclear. What is clear that the person receiving the award is not the janitor Jake, but the younger Jake (Jesse Plemons) with old-age make-up on. With his dying breath he is able to see the self he loves, his younger self, grow up and live the life he wanted. There’s no sense at all of his present circumstances or person. Then we cut to a shot of janitor Jake’s truck buried in snow, presumably (on my interpretation) with janitor Jake frozen inside, dead.

So ultimately whether or not you like this movie depends on your tolerance for head-up-its-butt dialogue about the grand questions of life combined with its purposefully obtuse presentation. As one of the biggest douchebags I know, I liked it, but didn’t fall head over heels for it. The only other associated Kaufmann production I’ve seen is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but from what I understand, this movie is Kaufmann at its Kaufmann-iest. I have a great respect for the planning and thought behind every second of the film and I can honestly say I was never not entertained. I loved the film’s mood and atmosphere and that I was always on my toes. It’s a movie that truly has gotten better as I’ve continued to think about it over the last three days. But still, I don’t think I always understood what was going on and it’s a little too obtuse/abstract for it to be an all-time classic. I respect that for some people this may be their favorite movie of all time, and for others it may be a crock of shit. I’m somewhere in the middle, and cautiously recommend this film to those of you who are open to some abstract art in film. If you are, definitely try it out, you won’t forget it. If you are not open to it, skip it; you will have no qualms about endings things early.

***1/4 (Three and one-fourth stars out of four)