The use of 3D and advanced imaging/animation techniques allows for not just a technological advance, but serves as a racially problematic metaphor for Avatar’s narrative.

While the use of his technology has a tendency to impress simply in skin textures, and facial gestures, James Cameron’s real success has less to do with animation and compositing techniques and more to do with the over looked 3D technique of weight. The most impressive moment is when protagonist Jake Sully dashes through the forest, chased by a large predator at high speeds, only to find himself jumping over a cliff into a waterfall down below. While this is nothing new in any narrative of a similar type, what is new is the technology’s ability to draft the weight of the character through these different physical environments, and the manipulation of time, we are able to get closer to feeling these moments than in any other film for the simple fact that the camera has been placed, panned, and paced in the appropriate positions to allow for the most tactile understanding of air rushing at one’s body, as well as the initial slowing-down of energy once it submerges within water. While neither the scene nor the tools are necessarily anything new, the careful placement of vantage point is what allows for a very effective use beyond the normal 3D tricks.

While the surface imagery remains effective today, in a couple years we will be stunned by some new partial animation experiment. In that way Avatar is almost repetition of The Phantom Menace, and is perhaps a novelty in these areas. Both films share much in the way of technology advancements, animation production schedules and techniques, and excessive use of these abilities in a manner that overwhelms visuals on the screen at the expense of a scene’s narrative clarity. This animation approach, common for any special-effect heavy fantasy, consistently feels in antithesis to the conventional film production approach, which these films attempt to replicate. In normal film execution, the production team attempts to eliminate elements that are uncontrollable and distracting to the audience, so that the story and narrative of a scene are what is the focus. In such fantasy pictures there is a tendency to neglect this fact and add as much as possible to any given frame to replicate the multifaceted movement and imagery of the real world. The result for me are mixed feelings, as I expect to be able to focus on the scene’s emotional and narrative clarity only to find that this information is in constant conflict with busy environment the animation has rendered possible. Half way through the film, I removed my 3D glasses, and actually found the film to be more relaxing. I was able to focus on performance and story with much more focus.

Beyond the immediate response to the technology, Cameron’s attempt to comment on the experience of viewing becomes a narrative subtext. Jake is able to maneuver among creatures alien to his own body via the “avatar” body of the title, which allows him to integrate well into this foreign society so much that they accept him as their own. As the narrative progresses, he falls in love with one of this society which initiates the conflict: even though his emotional connection exists beyond his avatar body, the recognition of it will pull his relationships apart. What Jake learns is that this society is threatened by a human military-corporation (via a complete homage to Cameron’s own Aliens which includes Sigourney Weaver) that wishes to destroy their home to obtain natural resources. Because of his advantage of understanding both sides of the situation, Jake is placed in a position to mediate between sides. The society of which he’s become a part, discovers he is not of their world and they begin to distrust him, which becomes the driving force for the narrative conflicts in the second and third acts. The ability for Jake to view this new world through eyes that are similar to those of the society alien to his own, it suggests a means to comprehend and understand the problems and beliefs of that world. Just as Jake is able to “view” this new world via his avatar body, the audience is also able to “view” this world via their 3D glasses, supporting a strong character-identification.

I have no initial problems with this setup, yet when looking closer to the characterization of this foreign society, I find the metaphoric 3D experience to suddenly imply some racially problematic issues.

At first the narrative seems justified, even when the film serves as a dialog between Cameron and science-fiction cinema past, yet it’s the details that imply a false comprehension of “tribal” societies. Jake first comes into contact with a female inhabitant of this society, Neytiri, who introduces him to her world. While she wears minimal clothing made from natural materials and her dialog and gestures suggest a pre-colonized society, when she returns to her village the concept of a “tribal” society really kicks in with the “whoop and holler” that is reminiscent of “Indians” from American westerns in the 1950s. As Jake learns more of this society, it becomes quite apparent these people are a composite of several minority cultures and pre-colonial societies. As the narrative progresses, we find that Jake is able to learn the ways of these people and eventually serves as a leader to resist against the military-corporation from which he came.

This suggests that those unfamiliar with these cultures can possible understand them if they strap into an “avatar” experience (the “body,” in case of the narrative proper, or the 3D glasses/movie screen, in the case of the audience). The suggestion that this can provide a solution for racial or cultural clashes is overly reductive, and in that way very dangerous. What the film does not take into consideration are the subtleties in a culture that cannot be learned through physical repetition, recall of facts, or the physical replication of body. Speaking only as a Comanche native, there is a mindset and there are cultural nuances of belief that are not translatable via conversation, and cannot be learned by those whohave grown up in a Western thought-process.

To suggest that a dialog can occur if cultures simply put on the other’s shoes and all problems can be resolved, is overlooking real differences in thought process. To really understand the world-view of a non-Western peoples one must be born to those people and learn via ways of believing and understanding that do not quantify, analyze, and deconstruct in the similar ways. For example, traditional American Indian thought often does not place so much emphasis on facts and proof in the way Western thought expects in any day-to-day conversation. Assuming the priorities are the same in a conversation, the Westerner might expect a reason for something while the American Indian would think it unnecessary and irrelevant. Neither point of view is better than the other, but without understanding the difference is a result of a basis of belief that influences complex communication will result in a repetition of a question without a common language or reasoning to respond progressively.

Avatar’s simplistic design does not allow for the rendering of these ideas, and implies that any conflict between cultures is resolvable through discussion, or “induction” into a culture, rather than “birth” into a culture. So a sequence in which Jake Sully proficiently performs tasks of the foreign society is merely an external repetition, and when the society accepts him because he does well, the film makes a fatal error. While Jake can learn about what they believe to be sacred, it does not mean he understands the logic behind why the belief works. The film makes the assumption that all logic works under the same Western thought principles without acknowledging the previously mentioned building blocks of a cultural thought process might be different. In the end Jake is able to prove himself physically able to defend these people against his own military-corporation culture, but that is only as far as he is able to integrate. In reality, Jake Sully would simply be a physical simile in this society, where he would continue to struggle with comprehending what is natural to this culture.

In the end, the fact that the film experience renders 3D a means to understand cultural differences that dominant American culture finds incomprehensible is overly simplistic and damaging to real political negotiations. As the film also suggests, for any colonial oppressed culture, it is a Westerner that will resolve all problems and their pains will be heard. The final sub-textual problem implies that any non-Western culture cannot resolve it’s own problems, and that if it simply waits for a Messiah-like figure from Western culture they will be saved. This insults the integrity of any oppressed culture, as the film clenches its final racist tendencies.

While the nature of voyeurism is well discussed, the result of the film’s conclusion remains quite problematic and should not be taken as a basis for true intercultural analysis. The anticipated response from those of a non- Western culture is “what’s the big deal, it’s a film about aliens,” refuses to acknowledge the nature of the film’s exploration as an influence (conscious or not) on future cultural interactions. Whether we are watching aliens in the theater, we will only interact with other real people beyond it, and whether it’s conscious or not, applying what we have learned from this film is negligent. Further, it is dismissive of the true problems of living through an “avatar” body.

Continuing our discussion of the last decade, Sunrise and I move on to the best writers ofthe decade. To reiterate, instead of making a definitive list, we have opted to simply name a person we think is deserving, and discuss their competition and why they came out on top.

The term “best of the decade” should be defined. We are not just looking for someone whose creative output was particularly impressive over the last 10 years. Instead, in all the categories we discuss we are looking for someone who is the best for the decade, someone who was as important to the aughts as the aughts were to him/her.

The best way to explain is to tell you who our Best Writers of the Decade are (sorry, Sunrise and I couldn’t agree so there are two), since I absolutely despise one of the writers we chose. But it’s not about me, it’s about all of us.

[podcast]http://www.candlerblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/bests-of-the- decade-part-ii-writers.mp3[/podcast] [Right-Click to Download](http://www.candlerblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/bests-of-the- decade-part-ii-writers.mp3) • [Subscribe in iTunes](http://itunes.apple.com/We bObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=334875368)

Paul Haggis does not make movies the candler blog enjoys, and we are particularly upset about Crash’s pop status. However, he has had an impressive decade, snagging two Oscars and garnering tons of attention for projects. Seemingly overnight he became an A-list scribe, tapping into the most insecure bits of the American subconcious. It was eerie how close Million Dollar Baby’s release was to the Terri Schiavo ordeal in the news. He was raised almost to shaman status for bringing one of the country’s hottest controversies to the screen. He remade James Bond in his own image this decade, introducing is to a darker, more homoerotic version of the 1960s über spy. In other words, he successfully moved him into our time.

For all his transgressions, Paul Haggis has that rare talent of making us prick up our ears and listen to what he has to say. A gifted, if formulaic, storyteller, it is difficult to ignore the massive impact he has had throughout the 2000s.

Our other choice for best writer is Tony Gilroy, who has become one of the hottest new directors as we close out the aughts. Although he is no stranger to penning scripts, he really moved his career in a new direction this decade when he adapted Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Identity to the big screen. Although the first film in the series, directed by Doug Liman, packed a powerful oomph for a Hollywood unsure of how to make an action film after 9/11, but it wasn’t until the subsequent sequels, The Bourne Supremacy and The Bourne Ultimatum that we really saw something very special come together. The two films, but written by Gilroy and directed by Paul Greengrass, stand out as major progressions in action filmmaking, essentially creating a new mold for a 21st century action hero.

Also moving into the directing field, Mr. Gilroy got a Best Director nomination for his first outing at the helm with Michael Clayton, a brilliant legal thriller starring George Clooney. Though he didn’t win, he came back very strong this year with Duplicity, a screwball thriller that [really wowed me back when it came out](http://www.candlerblog.com/2009/03/28 /review-duplicity/). In both cases, the stories are very simple and classical, but the context is wholly 21st century, which is where Tony Gilroy’s gift lies. Not afraid to bring current geopolitical trends into even his most mundane of projects, his work never crosses the line into preachy (unlike our other best of the decader). We truly can’t wait to see where he takes things in the next decade.

In the recording, Sunrise and I mention many other notable writers, but two that are worth mentioning as our runners up are Jim Jarmusch and Judd Apatow. Sunrise states that Jarmusch is consistently left out of such discussions, especially as a writer since he is know mostly for his directing, because his films aren’t successful enough. The growth of Jarmusch’s narrative structure over the last 10 years is, perhaps, more notable than any other working writer. The other person of note is Judd Apatow, who went from being a failed television producer to the most powerful name in Hollywood in the 2000s. Keeping his growing gang of followers close to him, one can’t go more than 3 months without seeing a film that his pen touched anymore. Love him or hate him, his brand of comedy/masculine self-discovery has changed the way an entire generation of filmgoers look at funny movies.

[caption id=“attachment_1901” align=“alignright” width=“324” caption=“O' Brother Where Art Thou, directed by Joel and Ethan Coen, kicked the decade off with cinema’s first feature digital intermediate.”][/caption]

Recently, frequent candler blog collaborator Sunrise Tippeconnie and I sat down to record a podcast titled “Bests of the Decade”. Instead of making a list of the best films of the decade, we thought it would be interesting to decipher who and what were the most notable people and events in cinema of the last ten years. We would name a best writer, best actor and actress, and best director while discussing their competition as a means of justifying our picks. The plan was to get all of this recorded in one ninety minute show, but instead we ended up blabbing for over 3 hours. As a courtesy, I have gone to the trouble of cutting our conversation up into segments, the first of which covers the most notable developments in cinema during the 2000s. We also go over our methodology and reasoning for composing a list in this manner.

It was one hell of a decade for filmmaking. We saw the proliferation of high definition and the legitimization of video as a screening format. The digital intermediate was introduced, the comic book film re-exploded in Hollywood, the movement once called Mumblecore found a way to speak to an entirely new generation of art-house audiences and filmmakers the world over struggled to translate the nuance of a post-9/11 reality. When you lay out all of the advances and struggles of the last ten years, you might be amazed at how much has actually happened and changed while we were all busy at work. Sunrise and I discuss just a few of these changes in Part I of the Bests of the Decade Candlercast. Since we know we missed a few, we’d love it if you left some more in the comments.

[podcast]http://www.candlerblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/bests-of-the- decade-part-i.mp3[/podcast] [Right-Click to Download](http://www.candlerblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/bests-of-the- decade-part-i.mp3) • [Subscribe in iTunes](http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/ MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=334875368)

Last night, the Jewish Theological Seminary (JTS, the primary higher educational institution of the Conservative Movement) hosted a screening and panel on Inglourious Basterds. (To catch up on how the candler blog feels about the film, you can check Sunrise Tippeconnie’s essay, Once Upon a Time in Violence Occupied Cinema, which was written for the film’s theatrical release.) Though an appearance by Quentin Tarantino was promised, the auteur was a no show claiming a sore throat (he gets the benefit of the doubt from me). Luckily, the producer of the film, Lawrence Bender, one of QT’s hebraic guides on the project, was in attendance to discuss the topic of “Jewish Persecution and the Fantasy of Revenge” alongside Dr. Amy Kalmanofsky, a bible and horror film scholar, and Rabbi Jack Moline, a pulpit Rabbi in Virginia whose Kol Nidre sermon about Inglourious Basterds sparked the institution’s interest in hosting such an event. Also, leading the panel was the school’s Chancellor, Arnold M. Eisen. Phew, now you have all the details, so how was it?

This was my third public screening of the film, though the first one on video. I have to say, if you missed this movie on film, you pretty much missed it. But that’s neither here nor there. This was an academic event so I gave some leeway on projected quality, though I will say I’ve seen much worse in other college auditoriums. Unsurprisingly, watching the film in a room full of mostly Jews, mind you months after the film had been unleashed on the masses, was barely different from watching the film in a room full of gentiles. Duh. A great fry cook once said “peoples is peoples”, of course, these are the chosen people watching their greatest enemies slaughtered on screen with great flair. There must be something different.

Well, let’s see, the audience wasn’t quite as “in” on the jokes that a room full of film critics would be in on. There are points in the film at which I was the only one laughing hysterically, usually violent scenes, but again that happened at my other screenings. While there were no great cheers as Hitler’s corpse gets the Swiss cheese treatment, which Mr. Bender says there were at the Israeli premiere, the audience did seem to get a kick out of some of the Nazi-killing gore. “Say aufedersein to your Nazi balls”, for example, got everyone quite excited. Just as I felt at the film’s release, this is an altogether human story, not one of Jewish redemption. But don’t tell the curators of this event, because they brought up some really interesting points about the film in the context of modern (and ancient) Jewish thought.

Dr. Kalmanofsky, no stranger to Judeo-Chrisitian-pop deconstruction, opened the discussion with some fascinating points about the concept of the revenge fantasy, positing that the Jewish bible, specifically the story of the exodus from Egypt, indulges the concept of violent revenge. Besides the ten plagues brought down against their aggressors, arguably deserved, the Israelites break out in song and dance after they cross the parted Sea of Reeds, which closes and drowns the entire Egyptian faction that was chasing them. This punishment goes well beyond the tit-for-tat measures of the plagues, and remorse is not really discussed until the Rabbinic era of Judaism several hundred years after the fact. In other words, while the modern Jew may be morally inquisitive and emotionally conflicted, in the bible, living out the revenge fantasy was something very real.

Rabbi Moline proffered that the Jewish people have become mired in thought for so long that the idea of physical redemption has been lost. The saying “two Jews, three opinions” comes to mind on this point. As the concept of Talmudic discourse has proliferated, especially in the wake of the Holocaust (Why did this happen to us? Is it our fault?), Jews may have lost the instinct of revenge, which Moline points out is in fact a basic human instinct. The film provides that for a generation of Jews who view the holocaust in a new light. Inglorious Basterds represents a voice for that generation.

Producer Lawrence Bender’s input, obviously the most cinematic in this crowd, was quite interesting. After telling a story about Tarantino calling actors by their characters’ names on set which resulted in more than a few awkward moments with Martin Wuttke, the actor who portrays Hitler in the film, he joined in on Rabbi Moline’s generational perspective of the film. Looking to a specific arc from the last twenty years, he mentioned that we go from Schindler’s List to Life Is Beautiful to Inglourious Basterds. Another way to put it is from drama to comedy to fantasy. This is a concept I could write volumes about, but I’ll spare you for now. Another interesting point Mr. Bender brought up is that in both the Israeli and German premieres of the film, the audiences felt a sense of personal redemption. In both cases, the press mentioned that only a non-German/non-Jew could pull off such a film. I’m not sure that there is any validity to this point, however the fact remains that a non-German/non-Jew did make this film.

All in all it was a fascinating evening. Kudos to JTS for putting together such a relevant program. I don’t really believe that there is all that much specifically Jewish about the film, but Rabbi Moline kept harping on the fact that the film has awoken something in the Jewish community. Not a call to arms, but a call to deconstructing the meaning of the inner vengeance of a people. Polemics have always been an important pillar of Rabbinic discourse, but visceral nature is something often pushed to the side in favor of academics. Perhaps, says the Rabbi, it is a time to finally confront that urge we have to murder Hitler, to root out our enemies. Not to indulge it, but to question it.

Hell, if one little film can bring out all that from the leaders of one of the world’s major religions, it must be doing something right. What say you, readers? Fill up the comments with your thoughts on the matter.

In my bloggy world I like keep up a certain level of decorum. Throwing in three-plus syllable words I find in my thesaurus, needlessly sticking to the New York Times style guide, and always listing at least three things if ever I need to describe an idea are all tactics I use to keep readers taking me seriously. However, every once in awhile it is necessary to shed such formalities and let bare a more persoanl reaction. Ruminating on Stéphane Aubier and Vincent Patar’s _A Town Called Panic _has presented just such a time. I must speak honestly with you, and decorum just might not hold up for a film as silly as this.

I’m sorry, but I don’t get it. This film is oozing international buzz and everyone else seems to be on the inside of the Panic joke. Most notably it holds the title as the only feature-length stop-motion film selected for the Cannes Film Festival. Not since The Hangover have I felt like such an intellectual outsider. There is no question that A Town Called Panic is a fun film. It moves at about a mile a minute as our heroes, Cowboy, Indian and Horse, navigate a stop-motion world filled with toys found in every big kids toolbelt. Our three heroes go on a zany adventure when someone starts stealing their house night after night, no matter how many times they rebuild. Always getting into trouble is the name of the game for these three.

The film isn’t lacking any quirk. Nerds of the world will note that when Indian orders bricks on the internet, he is using an animated version of Google’s Chrome browser, certainly a nice polish for a group of misfits such as this. (It’s a third place browser) The world of the film is seemingly idyllic, yet the village has that name: Panique. Everyone is a little high strung. Look guilty of a crime and Policeman might just throw you in jail without a trial. Certainly, there are a few veiled political statements in this film, but none cleverly placed enough to snatch my heart.

I will say that children really will love the way this film is put together. However, American parents might not be so keen to take their kids to a film with a few mildly naughty subtitles, let alone subtitles at all. The more high maintenance probably won’t be able to deal with the film’s extreme cartoon violence, which has gone the ways of the dinosaurs for the most part. For that I will give these filmmakers a lot of credit. Children’s humor, at least in this country, has been sterilized so much that fart jokes is almost all they have left. Aubier and Patar certainly have a leg up on treating children with a great deal of respect, at least comedically.

Perhaps I am too grown up for this sort of thing, which isn’t as fact I’d easily admit. It’s easy to write the film off as too simple, or myself as being too cynical, but I think there is more at work. I think my issue is that I have seen so many iterations of this kind of film, regardless of whose idea it was first, that I have grown weary as an audience member. From “Robot Chicken” to “South Park” to “Spongebob Squarepants”, most of the subversiveness and quirkiness of animation has been used on me. And so I can’t figure out how to make heads or tails of this film. I was hoping to have my socks knocked off, and that just didn’t happen.

So I need you to explain it to me. I need someone, everyone, to help me out in the comments. I want to like this film. I want to join in the party, but I just can’t figure out what is getting everyone so hot and bothered about it. Care to share?

A Town Called Panic opens today in NYC at Film Forum.

Up in the Air, director Jason Reitman’s third feature film, is a moving coming-of-middle-age piece that is a beat for beat redux of the director’s Thank You for Smoking. This film would feel stale if it weren’t so damn refreshing. Searing wit and heart-rending reveals are just two reasons to see this film. George Clooney is another, and in a big way.

Tossed around as sex-symbol, superhero, goofball and playmate, Clooney steps up to the plate in this film to portray Ryan Bingham, a jet setting consultant whose sole purpose is to fire people at companies across the country. A frequent traveler, Bingham has bought into everything we always thought was so cool about flying. The compactness, the anonymity, the human ingenuity. Where most people cringe, he feels at home; and at home, he there are no traces of an existence. Only someone of Clooney’ charisma could make a vagabond look so put together.

But since this is a Jason Reitman film, Bingham is not as put together as he thinks. A part-time motivational speaker, Ryan’s conference shtick is a depressing speech about cutting the ties you have with loved ones and marrying one’s work. Dubbed “What’s in Your Backpack?”, his philosophy explains his lack of interpersonal relationships, but it doesn’t excuse it. When he meets Alex, played by a firey Vera Farmiga (who we didn’t like in Orphan), all that machismo flies out the window. Entering into a relationship of serial one- night stands at airports across the continent, Ryan finally has someone to care for, which will inevitably lead to his undoing.

There is another level to this film, an economic statement that is glancingly poignant, but more or less timeless. Each time Ryan fires someone, the film takes on a documentary feeling, taking the pulse of a tattered economy. Perhaps the film will be more popular in a time when people are losing jobs in droves, but Mr. Reitman seems to be thinking bigger. Losing one’s job is a massive moment for any one person in any time. It is a very personal time of reflection and self evaluation, and this film hits the nail on the head. Ryan is the best at getting people to stop being angry and start moving forward with their lives. This idea, pretty much non-existent in the real corporate world, is a very interesting take on what many people fear as their darkest hour.

Up in the Air is rife with great performances. Anna Kendrick is hilarious as the squeaky Natalie Keener, Ryan’s young competition. Her deadpan is brilliant, delivering Reitman’s choice dialogue with an even sharper tongue than Ellen Page as Juno. After being the [only redeeming part of ](http://www.candlerblog.com/2009/12/05/review-the-twilight-saga-new- moon/)[New Moon](http://www.candlerblog.com/2009/12/05/review-the-twilight- saga-new-moon/), she really shines in this film. Also surprising in this film is Danny McBride, the oafish comedian best known for his role on HBO’s East Bound and Down. Here, he sets aside his douchebag hat long enough to eek out a moving, albeit predictable, performance. Jason Bateman joins in the mix with his weirdest costume to date, and J.K. Simmons delivers a quick little gem.

All in all, Up in the Air is a basic grown-up lovelorn-tale sprinkled with timely nuance. It’s not necessarily a huge leap for Reitman or Clooney, but rather both setting up to do what they each do best. And that is okay in my book. We’re probably looking at an Oscar contender here, which is fine. In another era this film might be considered average, but today it will really shock people given how tight it is. In other words, Jason Reitman is fast becoming one of the more refined active American filmmakers, albeit one who gravitates toward the same simple story. He will only get better with time.

Wes Anderson’s first film adaptation, The Fantastic Mr. Fox, based on Roald Dahl’s book of the same name, may be the director’s most fully realized piece to date. Witty, thoughtful and sharp as a tack, this little film is going to astonish audiences of all ages, and not for the usual reasons we say an animated film will impress. Written with gifted family dramatist Noah Baumbach, the film is about the growing pains we all experience at the various stages of life. It’s also about sentient rodents going to war with big business.

The movie starts off at a sprint, quickly acclimating the viewer to its quirky animation style. Going vintage, like any hipster should, Mr. Anderson and his team of animators opted to use stop motion puppets instead of the “cleaner," more mainstream digital options. The same problem that befell puppeteer Willis O’Brien on 1933’s King Kong still exists today as the medium hasn’t changed all that much. Any time a puppeteer repositions a fur-covered animal between shots, the hair gets moved around and thus appears to wave around in the final cut piece, pullulating with every muscular motion. The characters move extremely fast and the camera whips around this tiny world. In something of a writerly coup, Mr. Anderson and Mr. Baumbach structure the script to match the quickened pace of the action. They have composed a heap of dialogue that cuts like a knife; for a second I thought perhaps Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond had penned this film, and that’s a hell of a compliment.

George Clooney plays the title character. His vocal energy is probably the biggest asset to the film, though the entire cast does an amazing job. It is Mr. Clooney, however, who quickened the pace of his talking and made Mr. Fox’s bright eyes by backing them up with a deeply developed personality. For better or worse, I still know I’m watching a movie with Clooney in it, whereas Meryl Streep, who plays his Mrs. Fox, slyly slips below the radar, disembodying her celebrity from the role. Jason Schwartzman, Mr. Anderson’s perpetually adolescent alter-ego, shows off his impeccable comic timing as Ash, Mr. Fox’s aesthetically challenged son. No one whines like Schwartzman. Eric Anderson, the director’s brother, and Bill Murray also offer notably hilarious vocal additions.

Visually, the film resembles many of Mr. Anderson’s other films. We have the bright, carefully chosen color palette and the overtly symmetrical cinematography. This works even better in the animated world than it has in his live action work, mainly due to the fact that over-stylization is the name of the game in animation. Neither a live-action nor a hand-drawn version of this film would have worked so well. There is a beautiful concurrence of good choices happening here. In fact, the subject is perfect for this particular director’s honed style.

Wes Anderson has spent the bulk of his career making, essentially, the same film. Many filmmakers do this and some aren’t any worse for wear (how many times has Woody Allen made the same film and not lost points?), but in Anderson’s, whatever ghost he was chasing from the outset seems to have been caught with The Royal Tennebaums. Yet he kept chasing it on two outings. Fantastic Mr. Fox is something different; a step forward. It most closely resembles Bottle Rocket, but with the benefit of the director’s years of experience, which are obvious every step of the way. For one, most of the family drama is kept to a minimum, focusing more on next-action plot, a rarity in his talky pictures. It is a great step forward, and I am hopeful to see more daring exercises from Anderson in the decade to come.

Chris Weitz, who has come a long way since co-directing American Pie with brother Paul, seems to have approached the second film in the newly dubbed “Twilight Saga” with the same utter disregard for proactive development as his predecessor, Catherine Hardwicke. New Moon is every ounce as boring as the first Twilight film, relying even more on the deep pockets and low expectations of tweenage girls. However, if two promising American directors (Hardwicke and Weitz) approached the same material and turned up dreck in both cases, maybe there is something more at work here. Maybe the material just sucks.

We find Bella (Kristen Stewart), our helpless heroine from the first installment, starting her senior year of high school in Forks, Washington, the cloud covered northwestern town perfect for hiding a family of vampires. Edward (Robert Pattinson), her fangy boyfriend, throws her a birthday party, during which his brother tries to eat her. This is standard fare for a family of vamps with a human mascot. Nonetheless, Edward decides to end his relationship with Bella. Oh the heartbreak. Luckily, she fills the void in her heart by spending time with a 16 year old Native American werewolf, Jacob (Taylor Lautner). Don’t worry, she does go through a period of depression first; she’s not that much of a monster skank.

New Moon feels more like a supplement to the hefty tome on which it is based; a celluloid special feature released only to enhance the experience of committed fangirls rather than bring new ones into the fold. The dialogue is wooden, the effects are lackluster and the plot never materializes. But that’s all par for the course, because this movie is really about oggling Robert Pattinson’s gravity-defying coif and Taylor Lautner’s washboard six pack. It’s all about the inappropriate eye candy here; sorry boys, Kristin Stewart isn’t allowed to preen the same way her costars do. That would be illegal.

In many respects, the flocking to Stephanie Meyers’ vampire epic is part of a cultural phenomenon that has nothing to do with the quality of the work. Audiences are begging for fantasy series. Ever since Harry Potter popularized the idea of literature consumed by the pound instead of by the page (a concept long successful in the mystery, fantasy and science fiction worlds), audiences and readers alike are desperate for magical characters they can languish with for hours. This decade began with The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, a nine hour epic that only got more involved once it hit DVD, and another tryptic of Star Wars films. The experience is now measured in days. So perhaps the key to The Twilight Saga’s success is about familiarity. It could be about anything at this point.

As for Mr. Weitz’s failure to make a decently cinematic adaptation, I believe we can chalk that up to a few overly ambitious production companies. Both the first film and this one are completely half baked, almost like watching a work print with first-pass effects work. Ms. Hardwicke was originally attached New Moon, but left because she didn’t think the script was ready to shoot for a Thanksgiving release. In other words, Mr. Weitz hopped aboard a Hindenberg that could have been saved with time. But given the king’s ransom that was collected upon opening, the joke really is on the rest of us. Oh well, maybe they’ll make the third one right, but probably not.

You may not have heard about AnyClip yet, but you should definitely prick up your ears and listen to this interview with their VP of Product, Nate Westheimer. This tenacious tech startup’s plans for video search have been causing a lot of buzz in the tech community ever since they won the Audience Choice Award at TechCrunch50 (think American Idol for tech companies). The short of their idea: cataloguing every clip ever. Their flagship site, anyclip.com, is currently in private beta, but if you land an invite it is definitely a lot of fun to poke around. You can search through moments in their growing collection of films using simple terminology, just like any other search engine. Nate describes it better in our conversation (and on the anyclip blog), so you really ought to download the audio below.

[podcast]http://www.candlerblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/candlercast-5 -nate-westheimer.mp3[/podcast] [Right-Click to Download](http://www.candlerblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/candlercast-5 -nate-westheimer.mp3) • [Subscribe in iTunes](http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjec ts/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=334875368)

Precious. Intimate. Immediate. Privileged. These are the ways we can describe the various moments that occur in Spike Jonze’s adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are. These terms, which any frosh film student should recognize, are generally associated with documentary cinema. They have become applicable here, however, because Mr. Jonze rightly decided to let the pomp and circumstance that comes with any major studio children’s film fall away, focusing this film on the rambunctious perspective of a child in flux.

Hyperactive and creative Max is a boy with seemingly no friends but his mother. Always looking for an adventure to go on, he is stuck in a life of suburban boredom and Oedipal rage (aren’t we all?). There are a bevy of Freudian signifiers which lead to Max’s escape from his home on a journey to the ends of the earth. There he meets the folks we lovingly call “the wild things” (Buber, anyone?) who take him in as their king. At home with the beasts, our young ruffian slowly finds that even life in his own private utopia can get complicated.

And this is where the film gets clunky. Once established as monarch, his job is simply to make everyone happy again. If that sounds a bit esoteric, you’re right on target. It would be much simpler if Max had to rescue a princess or uncover lost treasure, but instead he must achieve and retain happiness. While the overall lesson, that sustainable joy is hard-won so appreciate what you have, is of serious value, the idea of watching it for 90 minutes isn’t quite so fun.<

That’s not to say there aren’t real joys to be had in this film. Mr. Jonze’s work always seems influenced by what a pain in the ass it actually is to make a movie. While the sets and characters are larger than life our perspective is always peripheral. Where a Bryan Singer or Chris Weitz might build up the sheer grandiosity of this wild world, Mr. Jonze never strays from the documentary approach. Stark colors, an always moving camera, and a telephoto viewpoint make the magical aspects of the film seem even more real. Thankfully, the furry friend’s are (mostly) grounded in reality. Unlike so many Jar-Jar Binks’, these beasts are tangible yet creative in execution.

Children today have a fairly tough go at the movie theater. They are stricken mostly to animated fare or whatever Robert Rodriguez has cooked up for his family, which may as well be a cartoon. The landscape is seemingly bereft of weightier fare like The Neverending Story,_ The Dark Crystal_,_ _or Time Bandits. Where the Wild Things Are takes a page from that book, offering up a relatable coming of age amid more dangerous visuals. There’s nothing wrong with exposing kids to a little of what the Motion Picture Association of America terms “mild peril”. If only Max’s lesson were a little more thought out, this may be the talebearer of a new generation of perilous filmmaking. One can hope.