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Coal-Hearted Cinema

Although I do my best to find the bright side of this time of year, my greatest pop-culture solace lies in the grimmer holiday film fare. Herein lies a list of dark Christmas movies that I originally compiled for Word and Film; consider it a mint on your pillow from the proprietress of Moulin Scrooge.

“The Ref” (1994)
Directed by Ted Demme (the late nephew of director Jonathan Demme), this stars Denis Leary as a potty-mouthed cat burglar who holds the wrong Connecticut couple hostage over the holidays. Judy Davis and Kevin Spacey are brilliant as spouses bound only by their matching sneers; supporting turns from J.K. Simmons as a military school commander and Glynis Johns as a mommie dearest-in-law round out the domestic sadism nicely. An excellent entry in the “Marriage Is Hard” film genre repopularized by “Gone Girl.”

“Bad Santa” (2003)
As a shopping mall Santa drowning in Wild Turkey and his own special strain of foul-mouthed misanthropy, Bill Bob Thornton is the ultimate antidote to candy cane cheer. Directed by Terry Zwigoff (“Crumb,” “Ghost World”), executive produced by the Coen Brothers, and co-starring the likes of John Ritter, Bernie Mac, Lauren Graham, and Tony Cox, this may be the crankiest – and least sentimental – Christmas movie ever crafted. Trust me, that’s a compliment.

“Batman Returns” (1992) Directed by Tim Burton, this is the most macabre of all the Batman movies – including, yes, Christopher Nolan’s recent hot messes. Set during the Christmas season, this stars Danny DeVito as the Penguin, Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman, Christopher Walken as a nefarious tycoon, a bevy of visual puns based on ice, and, of course, Michael Keaton as The Bat. It’s especially fun to revisit now that Keaton is starring in “Birdman,” the much-touted, thinly disguised meta-commentary on his inclusion in this film franchise.

“Metropolitan” (1990)
This account of New York City debutantes during one holiday season is one of the archest (and most articulate) films ever made about lifestyles of the rich and un-famous. As dour as it is dapper, Whit Stillman’s debut feature serves up an an uneasily brilliant catalog of the cultural decline of the “Urban Haute Bourgeoisie” to which these twentysomethings (including a then-unknown Christopher Eigeman) belong.

“A Christmas Tale” (2008)
About a fractured clan reassembled for Christmas to find a bone marrow match for their leukemia-stricken matriarch (Catherine Deneuve!), this offering from French director Arnaud Desplechin is jumbled, novelistic, gorgeous, erotic, neurotic, heart-rending, and deeply, deeply skeptical of “blood bonds.” Costarring such European greats as Mathieu Amalric, Emmanuelle Devos, and Chiara Mastroianni (Deneuve’s daughter, a star in her own right), this is one of the best films of the Aughts – and easily the most underrated. Continue Reading →

Fall Aside

Some parentheses-laden mash notes from a mid-morning walk down the Greenpoint stretch of Manhattan Avenue: 1. I love when health food store clerks loll outside their work buildings, smoking. (NYC balance, baby.) 2. I love being able to wear a trench coat without sweating. (Flasher chic, baby.) 3. I love lower-income children more easily than well-off ones (at least as a passer-by; no one said life was fair). 4. I sort of love when Poles speak to me in their mother tongue. On one hand, the reason I don’t know Polish is because all my Polish (Jewish) ancestors either died a horrible death at the hands of (possibly) their ancestors or just barely escaped them. On the other hand, it’s a high compliment to be confused for a Polish lady. 5. Speaking of which, I love the Polish lady I met in line at the dollar store. When I complimented her turquoise beret, she pulled it off and showed me her bald scalp. “I’m sick,” she said, and held my hand until the cashier was ready to ring up her purchases. (I send her more love right now.) 6. I I love, love, love October. Come autumn, even this finely feathered city smells, looks, and feels magic. Smoke, drying leaves, dying earth: No wonder my best love affairs have always begun this time of year. (Extrapolate away.)

Cue the Utopias

One of the most bizarre trends in contemporary cinema is the rise of the dystopian sci-fi flick. Sure, the “Hunger Games” films may be the most female-empowering YA franchise of all time. But anyone who reads the news already knows the world is in trouble. Do we really need a new movie every week to remind us of how dour our future may be? Frankly, it’s high time Hollywood made utopias instead. Here are some books that are ripe for adaptation.

 

Herland
Though written in 1915, Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s gynocentric science fiction novel feels as radical now as when it was released. About an all-female world in which women have developed the ability to reproduce without men, it follows three male visitors as they struggle to adjust to an environment in which they’re not needed and in which traditional gender roles are nonexistent. Frankly, a modern adaptation of this book would blow everyone’s minds – so much so that it might require crowd-funding since it’s unlikely that a Hollywood studio would bankroll such subversion. But I smell “instant cult classic” if “Herland” were ever made, especially if a bad-ass feminist director with a subversive sense of humor – Rose Troche or Kathryn Bigelow, maybe – took the reins. Continue Reading →

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy