Why doesn’t someone make a movie about Andrew?

Just kidding. But since many here know that particular Quiet American, I thought I’d point out that he got a Jazz Pick of the Week in this week’s LA Weekly.

you can read it here:
http://www.laweekly.com/calendar/picks/index.php

In the paper there’s a picture of Andrew – looking quiet – but it’s not on the web, because I am lazy. And not particularly good at my job.

It’s a good thing AFI didn’t do the “Top 101 Quotes” because of course number 101 was from Roadhouse.

“I used to fuck guys like you in prison.”

This is easily the best film I’ve seen in some time. A French comedy–and lo these many years I’d assumed that beast to be mythical–about tastes aesthetic and romantic. Every character displays some worldview or some kind of love which collides with some other character’s, and the film is a dry sometimes cruelly blunt evocation of how we don’t understand one another. But it also studiously avoids taking sides–almost no character is simply mocked for bad taste.

In my favorite scene, a crass businessman is trying to woo an actress he’s fallen for, sitting in a crowd of her artsy friends, telling crude jokes which all involve shit or vomit. He completely misses their scorn, so rapt in his infatuation…. And although the actor never betrays the crassness of the character, never seeks our sympathies by softening his character’s faults or making him more likable, there is such compassion for his desire, such appreciation for his appreciation.

I also loved the speed of the film–scenes of 2 minutes, or less, and crosscutting between a host of characters. It feels like a farce in form, but plays much more subtly as a character study.

Highly recommended.

Batman Begins:
Unlike Mauer, who practices his anti-blockbuster sneer in front of a mirror every May, in preparation for quick scornful dismissals in every conversation he has all Summer, I actually continue to dream the dream of the grand great Hollywood extravaganza. I get suckered in every year, or, rather than suckered, I willingly suspend my scorn thinking–well, at least one of these previews has to portend something marvelous. And, of course, like Saturday morning cartoons and burritos at Taco Bell, the preview hype and expectation is almost always better than real life.

This film isn’t the holy grail. It is, though, what a blockbuster ought to be, could be: generally exciting, often surprisingly moving, smartly executed. Fun.
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