My Favorite Movies of 2012: “I need my head examined/I need my eyes excited”

This year more than ever, I’m glad I’m not a movie critic. Don’t get me wrong, I love what they do, I care deeply for the craft of criticism, and the thought of getting paid to write about something that is my favorite leisure activity does not actively repulse me. However, my previously confessed deep-seated admiration for the leading lights of that profession is rooted in them doing something I cannot imagine finding that much pleasure in: Not simply watching an unhealthy amount of current cinema, and thus becoming a slave to the weekly release schedule – I tend to see lots and lots of these movies anyway (160+ this year), mostly for my own relative pleasure, but also, at least nominally, to prepare for making year-end lists like this one – but because they have to write about them afterward. Continue reading

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From Beginning to End

Life has taught me that you’re never supposed to tell young people that there is anything they are not allowed to do, since that will only increase the likelihood that they’ll do just that. And what good would it do, anyway? Moralists on both the right and the left have, not entirely unreasonably, bemoaned the present as an age of individualism and shallow materialism for decades already, so who could be surprised when they claim the right to do exactly what they fucking want? People who speak up against this run the risk of immediately getting labeled as not just completely out of step with the times, but, even worse, as a member of the aforementioned community of moralists. Continue reading

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Survive To Tell

“This isn’t gonna be cured for years and years and years. I’m gonna die from this”, says the disillusioned young activist up on the screen. But Peter Staley, co-founder of the activist group ACT UP and one of the main subjects of David France’s excellent documentary How To Survive a Plague (2012), was among the lucky ones. He didn’t die from AIDS, the epidemic which took the lives of so many of his friends, all the while the pharmaceutical industry and the government looked another, either watching their bottom line or busy demagoguing the public about AIDS as a disease inflicted mainly upon gay people for leading irresponsible and/or immoral lives. Continue reading

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Quitting While You’re Ahead?

Sometimes I’m not quite sure if I actually like Quention Tarantino. Sure, I recognize that he is an important filmmaker: an original and audacious auteur with the camera; an unpredictable cinephile whose heart beats for a particular blend of low and high culture (in that order). I even enjoy most of his movies. Continue reading

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Ten Favorites From the 2012 Bergen International Film Festival

Every year, in anticipation of the Bergen International Film Festival, I ask myself a variation of the same question: What do I want out of it this year? Last year was a special case, and more than anything I needed the festival as an escape, when everything around me seemed to fall apart. This year, I could again approach the festival focused on the movies themselves. Continue reading

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“Hallelujah, the trouble’s gone”

How distinct are The Killers, really? This might be a dull question, at least so long as their cocky and luxurious rock works as well as it does on the band’s fourth studio album, Battle Born. Well, their number one signature remains lead vocalist and frontman Brandon Flowers. Bands like The Killers, who in their whole attitude and ever since the breakthough with Mr. Brightside from their debut album Hot Fuzz (2004) have signaled an ambition of becoming one of the world’s biggest acts, have always been dependent on a distinct voice people could identify with their specific sound. What Bono is for U2, or Chris Martin for Coldplay, Brandon Flowers is for The Killers. It’s as it has to be. He makes a Killers song recognizable, at the same time that he has a certain kind of presence, on stage as well as on record, which always keeps me coming back for more. Continue reading

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“Rest in Peace”

They mean well when they say «rest in peace»,
«He’s in a better place now»,
«He’s watching over us, smiling»,
I’m sure they do
And yet this is where they lose me
I thought «rest in peace» was something you said when an old man drew his last breath
Content with what he had accomplished
Or at least at peace with what he had not
But for the golden boy who had all the time in the world,
who just hadn’t gotten around to it yet?
«Rest in peace» won’t cut it

He did not want to die, and he did not go peacefully
He died fighting
There’s not much peace in that
And not much rest

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‘Perks’ Denied

I’ve explained previously why I’m really looking forward to Stephen Chbosky’s movie adaption of his own YA novel, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, opening this weekend in select American cities. I won’t repeat all the reasons, but they range from the pitch-perfect earnestness of the novel and the movie trailer to the post-Potter arrival of Emma Watson, to the general gorgeousness of my boy Logan Lerman. Continue reading

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#BetterWithPerry

Anyone who has even glanced at the Sexiest Males Alive list over the years would probably suspect that I’m an avid Disney Channel viewer. And they would be right. I enjoy some of their sitcoms up to a point (the late seasons of The Suite Life on DeckThe Wizards of Waverly PlaceAustin & Ally, the Jonas shows), if mostly for eye-candy reasons, and I try not to miss their its TV movies (ditto). Meanwhile, I have never really felt at home in its universe of animated shows. This might help explain why I only discovered the wildly popular animated comedy series Phineas & Ferb through my regular schedule of news programming. However, it also says something about not only that show’s appeal to adults, but its comedic sophistication as well. Continue reading

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How I Watch the Olympics, or: Tom Daley is Freaking Gorgeous

I’ve never quite understood people who call themselves sports fans. While I certainly can understand the appeal of specific sports, my way into a sport tends to be via specific teams or athletes, not out of a blanket fascination with the sport itself. And yet, the Olympics are different. Continue reading

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