a blurry croods

Last week, when I took the kid to see The Croods I really couldn't believe my eyes. Had my eyes aged on the walk from the parking lot, or was the screen really that blurry? I noticed it first during the previews, when the text on the bright green preview slide was out of focus. I looked around, but everyone else in the theater seemed to be happily munching popcorn, unconcerend. I blinked and looked again, but the next preview was also really out of focus. I sighed and got up and went to tell one of the kids behind the snack counter to come and check out Theater 6.

The Croods, a modern Stone Age family (and in focus, here)

Tick tock. Tick tock. The previews ended and the feature started. There it was, the film title, "The Croods" in big, blurry, glory. Oh, come on! Up again to complain. The girl behind the counter said that "the projectionist" (I suspect the guy who got me my hot pretzel earlier) had already been up to check on 6 and thought everything was OK. I told her that the picture was still pretty blurry — could someone check again? She said he would. I returned to the theater. Still no one else seemed concerned, everyone was happily looking at the screen, watching a blurry movie. A few minutes later I could tell that an adjustment was being made, but it still didn't look right to me.

I considered asking for my money back, but that would mean uprooting my daughter and my mom, which would be a disruptive project unappreciated by the rest of the vision-challenged audience. I gave up. As I watched the film blur by, I wondered if 3D might have something to do with this. The Croods was released in 3D and 2D. Are the lens adjustments slightly different? We were watching a 2D version of the film (I really am not into the 3D experience or the inflated pricing). Was the film designed for 3D and the 2D version just not as good a print? Or am I, with my large-scale, high-definition television set at home just spoiled by sharpness? Is it that I am so thrilled, so spoiled by my sharp picture, with everything beautifully delineated (even more so on Blu-ray), that I just can't bear anything fuzzy around the edges? Maybe ...

Nicolas Cage as Grug

I have have had to get up a few times in the past and complain about the volume being too loud or some slight blurring while at the movies, but the problems were always eventually fixed. That didn't happen here, unfortunately. Roger Ebert has complained about film projection at multiplexes, and an article he cites by Ty Burr of The Boston Globe may provide the answer:

"Many theater managers have made a practice of leaving the 3D lenses on the projectors when playing a 2D film ... So why aren't theater personnel simply removing the 3D lenses? The answer is that it takes time, it costs money, and it requires technical know-how above the level of the average multiplex employee."

I'm still baffled by how no one else seemed to be as put out by the lack of sharpness as I was.

Oh, and how was The Croods, you might ask? It was cute. Nicolas Cage was wonderful voicing the dad, Grug. He actually turned in a performance. The story was fun and the completely made-up prehistoric environment looked like it was made with a lot of care. I just had a hard time seeing it flash by. I'll probably enjoy it a lot more when it comes on cable, and I can see it, bright and sharp and in focus.

see you at the movies, roger

“No good movie is too long and no bad movie is short enough" — Roger Ebert

I grew up watching Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert, first on PBS on a show called Sneak Previews, and then later when they had their network show, At the Movies. Coming from a long line of opinionated people who have never been shy about sharing their likes and dislikes, I loved hearing their opinions on the latest movies, and disagreeing with both of them (although I tended to disagree more with Roger than Gene.)

Gene and Roger didn't just review the latest blockbuster movies like Star Wars. They also spoke intelligently and at times passionately about foreign and independent films. I was introduced to many directors and movies that I never would have seen because of them — living in suburban south Jersey I may not have had a chance to see some of their more obscure picks until they showed up much later on video, but I remembered the films and their reviews, and that the two squabbling critics had given it a thumbs up. Siskel and Ebert helped me hone my critical faculties and love of movies (and the desire to talk about them and analyse them after viewing them).

After Gene Siskel died (too young!) in 1999, I continued to watch Roger with Richard Roeper, but it was never the same, I suspect as much for Roger as for the audience. Ebert created a whole new internet career for himself in the past few years. He was as opinionated and interesting to read as ever, and he gave opportunities to other film reviewers on his blog. He also wrote about his cancer battles and childhood and any other pop culture subject that struck his fancy. It was always an interesting read.

Ebert had many accomplishments. He was the first film critic to win a Pulitzer Prize. He co-wrote the schlocky but good-natured 1970 Russ Meyer film, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. But I suspect he will be most remembered for his love of movies and his "thumbs up" and "thumbs down" reviews. RIP Roger. You will be missed.

Related:

I do not fear death, by Roger Ebert, Salon, September 15, 2011.

Roger Ebert’s 10 Most Brutal Movie Review Quotes, Heavy

blue man group

The Smurfs is far from the greatest movie out there, but it also is far from the worst. It was a lot of fun. I continue to find it perplexing why so-called professional reviewers insist on panning kiddie films for being juvenile or simply plotted. Duh. Roger Ebert, who I don't always agree with in his reviews, but still respect his opinions, just put out his "5 Worst Movies of the Year So Far List," and it only proves that maybe only people who actually attend a kid's movie with a kid should write a review.

The Smurfs take Manhattan:  (L-R) Clumsy, Grouchy, Papa Smurf, Smurfette, Gutsy and Brainy

3 of Ebert's bottom 5 are movies squarely aimed at younger folks, or at least the young at heart: Thor (which he just doesn't seem to be able to stop slamming, Mr. Popper's Penguins and the latest Pirates of the Caribbean movie. It seems a little unnecessarily spiteful of him to pick on these recent films when there was so much other dreck out there this year (The Green Hornet, No Strings Attached, Just Go With It, Mars Needs Moms, Beastly ...). Even putting together a "worst of" list, whether in July or at all, seems a bit much. But as far as kids movies go, kids don't want nuance. Not from Smurfs or pirates or penguins.

There's actually quite a lot of almost risque humor in The Smurfs that will sail over children's heads but give their parents or chaperones a few giggles. There was also a direct tribute to the little blue creatures' creator, which was nice — Peyo, the nom de plume of Belgian artist Pierre Culliford, who created "The Schtroumpfs" in 1958. We ended up at the 3D show, which I was initially not happy about. Like Ebert, I don't want to see murky, overpriced fare that doesn't really appear to be in three dimensions. But I wasn't going to make the kid wait an hour for the 2D showing, so in we went. The Smurfs is probably the first of any 3D movies that I have seen, among them the awful Alice in Wonderland, the IMAX 3D Deathly Hallows Part 1, and that recent Pirates of the Caribbean, which actually seemed to integrate the technology from the beginning of the movie until the end, rather than just inserting a few "in your face" moments to justify the higher ticket price. So I'm even glad we saw it in 3D.

Patrick (Neil Patrick Harris) entertains some unexpected house guests

The movie begins with a really nice hyper-colored segment set in Smurf Village, where everything is sunshiny until the evil wizard Gargamel (Hank Azaria) launches an attack which propels the plot and the movie's main Smurfs — Clumsy (Anton Yelchin), Gutsy (Alan Cumming), Grouchy (George Lopez), Smurfette (Katy Perry), Brainy (Fred Armisen), and Papa Smurf (Jonathan Winters) — to current day New York City, Central Park to be specific, with Gargamel and his naughty cat Azrael hot on their trail. Lucky for the Smurfs they end up at the apartment of Patrick Winslow (Neil Patrick Harris) and his wife Grace (Jayma Mays) and hijinks ensue. Any movie that utilizes the great Jonathan Winters is OK in my book.

There were annoying things. Because it's set in NY, someone putting the movie together seemed to have the feeling that it should be peppered with "real" New Yorkers, in tired and unnecessary cameos. So Tim Gunn, Liz Smith, Joan Rivers, and Michael Musto showed up for a scene or two, but why? A few older kids in the audience might recognize Papa Gunn from Project Runway, but seeing him in a Smurfs movie would just confuse them. As for the rest, if they are there for the adults — if anyone even recognizes them — I'm an ex-NYer, so I did, but I was hardly thrilled to do so — they would, like me, probably think, "Joan Rivers. Who cares?"

Besides the boring cameos, the dilemma of whether Harris would prove successful with his boss or his job was also a big yawn. Sofía Vergara, as Harris's obnoxious boss, started to have a subplot with Azaria that began and then disappeared. The Smurfs would have been a far better and tighter film if it had stayed squarely with Harris and Mays and the Smurfs, but just the briefest wisp of a script propels the main action, which centers on getting the Smurfs around New York, looking for a way back home, and getting Harris into trouble.

Azrael the cat and Gargamel (Hank Azaria)

But there were good things, too. Besides the undeniably cute rendered Smurfs, Neil Patrick Harris proved what an excellent physical comedian he is as he reacted to the tiny blue guys and one girl, who at one time even had him captured and trussed a la Gulliver. Hank Azaria went all out, chewing any scenery in sight. If there wasn't anything left to chew, he built new scenery and started gnawing on it. This might have been annoying for some, but I happen to love Azaria and whatever over-the-top accent he is currently plying. Gargamel's mostly-CGI kitty cat, Azrael, had my 7 year-old daughter giggling throughout.

The Smurfs is undeniably silly, and disappears from your mind pretty quickly after you leave the theater. But I don't usually have long recap discussions after taking the kid to a matinee. It's nigh near impossible to not hum the theme song as you're heading for the parking lot and fishing for the car keys, too (La, la, la, la la ...). I can't help myself, however, wanting to encourage my daughter to hone her own critical faculties, so I asked her on the way out, "So what was your favorite part?" Depending on what movie we've just seen her answer can range from "Everything!" to, in the case of The Smurfs, "When they stopped Gargamel's magic." Does Ebert know someone with a kid under 10 who could go with him to the movies? He might enjoy them more.

Related articles

• 'Cowboys & Aliens,''Smurfs' tie for No. 1 spot (sfgate.com)
• Interview: Neil Patrick Harris Talks 'The Smurfs' & Geek-Love (screenrant.com)

grave of the fireflies

I have been wanting to see this anime film for so long, but at the same time dreading it. If you don't know what the movie is about and don't want to know before seeing it, then stop reading, although the fate of its narrator is revealed in the first scene.



I think part of my hesitancy was the hard facts of the plot—two children, a brother and sister, try to survive the aftermath of air raids in war-torn WW2 Japan, only to die of starvation. It sounds so stark, and the movie is rough and intense at times, but there are also so many moments of beauty and courage and joy. It is haunting and tragic and poetic. True art. I am glad I finally made myself watch Grave of the Fireflies.

There are so many wonderful scenes—Two little fireflies meander  their way across the screen, their other companions dead or dying, foreshadowing the chidrens' fate and what has happened to their friends and neighbors in Kobe. Like the incandescent fireflies, the lives of Seita, the older brother, and Setsuko, his younger sister, appear brief and aimless. When a group of young boys discover their home—the siblings have been camping in an abandoned bomb shelter—they run around, poking fun at the meager traces of their existence, but the children are unseen, nowhere to be found, as if they were already ghosts. Setsuko's lifeless doll is often shown lying on a bed or the ground, her color gradually fading.

The film is also a fairytale of sorts—the wicked witch/stepmother is an aunt who wants to steal food from the newly-orphaned children and send them out into the world to starve. People they encounter, like the farmer, or the doctor, who should be helpful, instead are just a hindrance, similar to the unhelpful dwarf in Snow White and Rose Red. There are a few sympathetic people, who at least understand their predicament, but this little Hansel and Gretel will never make it out of the woods.



As I was waching I kept wondering why Seita didn't just go get his mother's money out of the bank and buy them food earlier. But he was living in a nightmare fantasy world—the expectation of grown-ups helping him; of their home, the magical cave of the fireflies, being a safe haven; of their father coming to rescue them. When Seita finally pulls himself together to accept how ill his little sister is, it is too late. Setsuko is already too far gone on the path to starvation. It is clear from the montage we see while she is slowly dying and Seita is returning with food, that she has been left alone too much while her brother has tried to navigate this strange new world. A small starving child, left alone to put inappropriate things like rocks and buttons—anything—in her empty little stomach.

Grave of the Fireflies was based on the real-life experiences of Akiyuki Nosaka and his feelings of guilt at the death of his sister. It is amazing to me, and uplifting, to watch how hard Seita tries to make his little sister happy, to give her some joy, in the midst of all the horror that surrounds them. Unfortunately, it is also this escape from reality that he tries to provide that dooms them. It is tragic.

The first few moments of the film reveal that Seita has starved to death. The rest of the film is a flashback of sorts—memories of his parents, his sister. We don't really see how he got to the train station where he died all the way from the countryside where his little sister died, but it doesn't matter. Their lives and deaths tell forgotten stories of the human fallout of war. Of two vulnerable orphans left to fend for themselves in a world where there is no place for them.



The dvd had some extras which added poignancy—especially commentary by a pre-cancer thumbs-uppin' Roger Ebert. Like the children in the film, he can't go home again, but his words and ideas can still touch us. He points out in his interview that even though it is clearly the United States that is causing the specific devastation in the film, the country is never named, except as "the enemy." This helps the film to be viewed more as a universal comment on what happens to the innocent in a conflict. It was probably through Ebert's recommendation that I first heard of Grave of the Fireflies, years ago. It took me a while, but I'm so glad I took his advice.

thumbs way up

I follow Roger Ebert's blog in my reader, but I haven't gone in there lately. Another blog pointed me to a recent Esquire article about Ebert that blew my mind. It is more a look into his current life and how he got there, than an interview, although Ebert would call it one. And as harrowing as his photo may at first seem—unapologetically showing what cancer has done to him physically—it is his words and the strategies he employs to get the most out of life that make the biggest impression. He's still Ebert and he's still out there, watching movies, being a Chicagoan, but primarily, being a writer. Writing, writing, writing. He's also a technogeek and one of the most moving passages of the article for me was Ebert's collaboration with a Scottish company to recover his speech, his voice—something that doctors and multiple surgeries have failed to accomplish.

Ebert is waiting for a Scottish company called CereProc to give him some of his former voice back. He found it on the Internet, where he spends a lot of his time. CereProc tailors text-to-speech software for voiceless customers so that they don't all have to sound like Stephen Hawking. They have catalog voices—Heather, Katherine, Sarah, and Sue—with regional Scottish accents, but they will also custom-build software for clients who had the foresight to record their voices at length before they lost them. Ebert spent all those years on TV, and he also recorded four or five DVD commentaries in crystal-clear digital audio. The average English-speaking person will use about two thousand different words over the course of a given day. CereProc is mining Ebert's TV tapes and DVD commentaries for those words, and the words it cannot find, it will piece together syllable by syllable.

Read more: http://www.esquire.com/features/roger-ebert-0310-3#ixzz0gW5C8KOc

In his writing, as always, his voice is loud and clear. In his blog, sometimes he waxes nostalgic, sometimes not even remotely about movies, sometimes even philosophical, but it's still a good read. Rock on, Roger. And I hope you get your voice back, although we can still hear it, strong as ever, in your writing.