Friday, September 30, 2011
The Single, Solitary Reason
Spellbound or The House of Dr. Edwardes, written by Francis Beeding, is almost completely worthless. In fact, the single, solitary reason why I even keep my copy is: The pictures on the inside cover. They're from the movie, and I loved the movie. Otherwise, the book is rubbish.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Concerning Spellbound
(Suggested by The House of Dr. Edwardes by Frances Beeding.) Constance Petersen (Ingrid Bergman) is strictly a woman of science. One of her coworkere at the mental hospital Green Manors refers to her as a "human glacier." Then she meets handsome Dr. Edwardes (Gregory Peck), the new head of Green Manors. He sweeps her off her feet, but she soon discovers that there's something odd about him. He seems to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and it isn't long before Constance discovers that he isn't Dr. Edwardes at all. In fact, he's suffering from amnesia - and a deep-seated belief that he killed Dr. Edwardes.
Alfred Hitchcock, Ingrid Bergman, and Gregory Peck. I'm in classic movie heaven. Seriously though, this is one of Hitchcock's better movies, but not quite his best. Ingrid Bergman is as wonderful as she always was, the romance is very sweet, and, of course, it's very suspenseful. On the other hand, the psychoanalysis part and the frankly laughable directing and special effects keep Spellbound from being anything more than just enjoyable.
The special effects are pretty typical for a forties movie. Dummies are used for the dangerous stunts, etc. The directing has its problems, too. Hitchcock could sure pick a story, but sometimes his use of the camera could be a little odd. In Spellbound, he attempted to make the viewer feel like one of the characters at various points in the film. For example, when a character drinks a glass of milk, the glass is held up to the camera and tipped as if the camera was drinking. Unfortunately, it's not very effective when the milk covers the screen. One's vision is never blocked out by the milk one is drinking. There's another scene that is meant to resemble a surrealist painting and ends up looking, well, rather ridiculous. You'll recognize the one if/when you watch the movie.
The psychoanalysis is a bit more disturbing than the lameness, though it's not as blatant. Put simply, psychoanalysis is a load of tripe. You can read a more in-depth article about the subject here, but the underlying principle of psychoanalysis is that our will is subordinated to our instincts. According to psychoanalysts, our true selves are found in our unconscious longings - particularly unfulfilled longings. When suppressed, these longings cause us to act insansely. (That smells suspiciously like secular ideas of today...) There are other problematic aspects as well. However, as a simple therapeutic method, psychoanalysis is morally acceptable (if mentally dangerous) because doctors simply probe the minds of their patients for reasons why the patients are unstable. Fortunately, Spellbound generally sticks to the basic, more vanilla therapeutic application of psychoanalysis. Because of this, the movie doesn't get swallowed up in bad philosophy.
Fundamentally, Spellbound is a Hitchcock movie. There's some doubt as to the morality of the main characters, there are surprises and numerous dangerous situations, and almost the whole movie is drenched in suspense that occasionally gets a little over the top. There's also a hint of something out of touch with reality - in this case, psychoanalysis. But the merits of the movie outweigh its deficiencies, and I have to admit it cast a spell on me.
(Yes, I'm thoroughly ashamed of myself for using that pun.)
My Rating: T (thematic elements, frightening images and ideas)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Alfred Hitchcock, Ingrid Bergman, and Gregory Peck. I'm in classic movie heaven. Seriously though, this is one of Hitchcock's better movies, but not quite his best. Ingrid Bergman is as wonderful as she always was, the romance is very sweet, and, of course, it's very suspenseful. On the other hand, the psychoanalysis part and the frankly laughable directing and special effects keep Spellbound from being anything more than just enjoyable.
The special effects are pretty typical for a forties movie. Dummies are used for the dangerous stunts, etc. The directing has its problems, too. Hitchcock could sure pick a story, but sometimes his use of the camera could be a little odd. In Spellbound, he attempted to make the viewer feel like one of the characters at various points in the film. For example, when a character drinks a glass of milk, the glass is held up to the camera and tipped as if the camera was drinking. Unfortunately, it's not very effective when the milk covers the screen. One's vision is never blocked out by the milk one is drinking. There's another scene that is meant to resemble a surrealist painting and ends up looking, well, rather ridiculous. You'll recognize the one if/when you watch the movie.
The psychoanalysis is a bit more disturbing than the lameness, though it's not as blatant. Put simply, psychoanalysis is a load of tripe. You can read a more in-depth article about the subject here, but the underlying principle of psychoanalysis is that our will is subordinated to our instincts. According to psychoanalysts, our true selves are found in our unconscious longings - particularly unfulfilled longings. When suppressed, these longings cause us to act insansely. (That smells suspiciously like secular ideas of today...) There are other problematic aspects as well. However, as a simple therapeutic method, psychoanalysis is morally acceptable (if mentally dangerous) because doctors simply probe the minds of their patients for reasons why the patients are unstable. Fortunately, Spellbound generally sticks to the basic, more vanilla therapeutic application of psychoanalysis. Because of this, the movie doesn't get swallowed up in bad philosophy.
Fundamentally, Spellbound is a Hitchcock movie. There's some doubt as to the morality of the main characters, there are surprises and numerous dangerous situations, and almost the whole movie is drenched in suspense that occasionally gets a little over the top. There's also a hint of something out of touch with reality - in this case, psychoanalysis. But the merits of the movie outweigh its deficiencies, and I have to admit it cast a spell on me.
(Yes, I'm thoroughly ashamed of myself for using that pun.)
My Rating: T (thematic elements, frightening images and ideas)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Friday, September 23, 2011
Are We Dancing?
Question:
Why doesn't anyone dance like this anymore?
a) because there's nobody like Gene Kelly.
b) because true dancing is très passé
c) because "dancing" is just a code word for "flaunt your stuff"
d) all of the above
Answer: d) all of the above
Clip from It's Always Fair Weather.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Pertaining To The Conspirator
Zzzzzzz... What? I'm sorry. Fell asleep for a minute there.
Okay, something about a woman who is (perhaps) falsely accused of conspiring to kill President Lincoln. She stands trial in a closed military court with Union generals as the deciding body. A young man in the war department is her defense. He's reluctant at first, but then starts to believe the trial is unfair and she may be innocent. He's willing to risk his career to see her get a fair trial.
That about covers it. I've heard the movie is relentlessly accurate (historically, I mean). However, I doubt that very much. It seems a little too liberal to be accurate. The writing is so-so (what's with the contractions in the dialogue?). The acting is kept afloat by Robin Wright as Mary Surratt, the accused woman, and, to a certain extent, James McAvoy as Aiken, her defense lawyer. (Although I think he occasionally had trouble dropping his British accent.)
Aside from the sheer boredom, I also had a problem with the portrayal of the military court. Whether the generals were truly on a witch hunt or not is beside the point. What matters is what audiences bring away from this movie. Unfortunately, The Conspirator implies that military trials are necessarily biased. With the recent (and still unresolved) controversy over suspected terrorist trials, this seems like a thinly veiled condemnation of the military trials that many conservatives want to use. I have heard that this movie was in the works well before the War on Terror, so it seems that the man behind the movie did not intend it as a condemnation. However, I am perfectly willing to believe that director Robert Redford intended it as a condemnation.
Additionally, military trials are called "unconstitutional." Shortly after Surratt's trial, the Supreme Court ruled that citizens cannot be tried in military courts. I would agree. But this was an extraordinary period in the history of this country. Nearly all enemy combatants were citizens because it was a Civil War. The filmmakers also forgot to mention little details like: Abraham Lincoln himself suspended habeas corpus during the Civil War. Imagine that! The man that everyone includes in their top five best presidents list suspended something that the Supreme Court has recently (and perhaps wrongfully) given to non-citizens. Also, if Lincoln suspended habeas corpus rights without a huge uproar, why would anyone at the time think it untoward that Surratt got a military trial?
Finally, the story seemed a little stilted. For most of the movie, it is implied that Surratt is innocent. Only at the beginning and the end does Aiken seem to doubt her innocence. In the beginning, he is convinced that she is guilty. In the end, he admits that he doesn't know; he just wants her to have a fair trial. In between, he seems to never doubt her innocence. The flimsiness of the evidence presented against her also seems to imply that she is innocent. In the mystery genre, it's a good thing to mislead audience by getting it caught up in the moment. In the historical genre, it's just bad storytelling.
In conclusion, this is a good movie to watch when you need to catch up on some sleep. Robin Wright was wonderful as Mary Surratt, and James McAvoy was pretty good as Aiken. But they were the only bright lights in an otherwise drab (and probably politically slanted) movie.
My Rating: T (mild language, violence (including stabbing), several people are hanged)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Okay, something about a woman who is (perhaps) falsely accused of conspiring to kill President Lincoln. She stands trial in a closed military court with Union generals as the deciding body. A young man in the war department is her defense. He's reluctant at first, but then starts to believe the trial is unfair and she may be innocent. He's willing to risk his career to see her get a fair trial.
That about covers it. I've heard the movie is relentlessly accurate (historically, I mean). However, I doubt that very much. It seems a little too liberal to be accurate. The writing is so-so (what's with the contractions in the dialogue?). The acting is kept afloat by Robin Wright as Mary Surratt, the accused woman, and, to a certain extent, James McAvoy as Aiken, her defense lawyer. (Although I think he occasionally had trouble dropping his British accent.)
Aside from the sheer boredom, I also had a problem with the portrayal of the military court. Whether the generals were truly on a witch hunt or not is beside the point. What matters is what audiences bring away from this movie. Unfortunately, The Conspirator implies that military trials are necessarily biased. With the recent (and still unresolved) controversy over suspected terrorist trials, this seems like a thinly veiled condemnation of the military trials that many conservatives want to use. I have heard that this movie was in the works well before the War on Terror, so it seems that the man behind the movie did not intend it as a condemnation. However, I am perfectly willing to believe that director Robert Redford intended it as a condemnation.
Additionally, military trials are called "unconstitutional." Shortly after Surratt's trial, the Supreme Court ruled that citizens cannot be tried in military courts. I would agree. But this was an extraordinary period in the history of this country. Nearly all enemy combatants were citizens because it was a Civil War. The filmmakers also forgot to mention little details like: Abraham Lincoln himself suspended habeas corpus during the Civil War. Imagine that! The man that everyone includes in their top five best presidents list suspended something that the Supreme Court has recently (and perhaps wrongfully) given to non-citizens. Also, if Lincoln suspended habeas corpus rights without a huge uproar, why would anyone at the time think it untoward that Surratt got a military trial?
Finally, the story seemed a little stilted. For most of the movie, it is implied that Surratt is innocent. Only at the beginning and the end does Aiken seem to doubt her innocence. In the beginning, he is convinced that she is guilty. In the end, he admits that he doesn't know; he just wants her to have a fair trial. In between, he seems to never doubt her innocence. The flimsiness of the evidence presented against her also seems to imply that she is innocent. In the mystery genre, it's a good thing to mislead audience by getting it caught up in the moment. In the historical genre, it's just bad storytelling.
In conclusion, this is a good movie to watch when you need to catch up on some sleep. Robin Wright was wonderful as Mary Surratt, and James McAvoy was pretty good as Aiken. But they were the only bright lights in an otherwise drab (and probably politically slanted) movie.
My Rating: T (mild language, violence (including stabbing), several people are hanged)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Friday, September 16, 2011
Deleted Scenes Rock!!
In my original review of Thor, I spent a lot of time griping about the empty characters. After seeing the movie again, I stand by my complaints. (Though I would soften them a little by saying that all the characters are likeable and well-acted, if not original.) However, I have a new complaint to add: Why was the pre-coronation scene deleted from the movie?
On the DVD special features I have, there are four deleted scenes. Three of them are more or less dispensable (although I'm pretty darn sure the one between Odin and Frigga was in the theatrical version), but the first one should have been in the movie. In this scene, Thor and Loki have a fairly short conversation prior to Thor's ill-fated coronation. Loki insists that he's proud of his brother, but his bitter character comes through a little bit better than it does in the other early scenes of the movie. He teases Thor about the "feathers" on his helmet (metal wings), turns the wine Thor ordered into snakes, laughs when the servant carrying the wine becomes frightened, and admits that he is sometimes envious of his brother. When Loki says he has waited for this coronation as long as his brother has, Thor calls his sincerity into question and implies that Loki is rarely sincere. All this serves to build a little foundation of doubt about Loki's moral character.
Unfortunately, he's still a little lame. First he seems good, then he seems evil, then he seems merely conflicted and confused, then he's back to evil... you get the picture. Also, there is really no basis for his inferiority complex. In the only scene where Thor and Loki are children, Thor is the one who is reprimanded by their father. Where did Loki get the impression that Odin thinks Thor is a better son? The audience has no idea. However, the deleted scene partly makes up for this obvious deficiency and gives just a glimpse into Loki's twisted mind. Even through his brotherly banter, a little hint of jealousy and a sick sense of humor comes through. Also, the ominous symbolism of the snakes that slither out of the wine cup help establish Loki's character. With this scene in the original movie, Loki's character and motivations would have been a little more believable and consistent.
On the DVD special features I have, there are four deleted scenes. Three of them are more or less dispensable (although I'm pretty darn sure the one between Odin and Frigga was in the theatrical version), but the first one should have been in the movie. In this scene, Thor and Loki have a fairly short conversation prior to Thor's ill-fated coronation. Loki insists that he's proud of his brother, but his bitter character comes through a little bit better than it does in the other early scenes of the movie. He teases Thor about the "feathers" on his helmet (metal wings), turns the wine Thor ordered into snakes, laughs when the servant carrying the wine becomes frightened, and admits that he is sometimes envious of his brother. When Loki says he has waited for this coronation as long as his brother has, Thor calls his sincerity into question and implies that Loki is rarely sincere. All this serves to build a little foundation of doubt about Loki's moral character.
Unfortunately, he's still a little lame. First he seems good, then he seems evil, then he seems merely conflicted and confused, then he's back to evil... you get the picture. Also, there is really no basis for his inferiority complex. In the only scene where Thor and Loki are children, Thor is the one who is reprimanded by their father. Where did Loki get the impression that Odin thinks Thor is a better son? The audience has no idea. However, the deleted scene partly makes up for this obvious deficiency and gives just a glimpse into Loki's twisted mind. Even through his brotherly banter, a little hint of jealousy and a sick sense of humor comes through. Also, the ominous symbolism of the snakes that slither out of the wine cup help establish Loki's character. With this scene in the original movie, Loki's character and motivations would have been a little more believable and consistent.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
On The Loser Letters: A Comic Tale of Life, Death, and Atheism
(Written by Mary Eberstadt.)
Dear Theists, Atheists, and the Rest of Mankind,
If you're looking for a book that's dripping with sarcasm, full of truth, and more sobering than a cold shower and a cup of coffee, this is the book for you. I don't have to tell you that the debate about God and religion is center-stage right now. I mean, just look at the debate over marriage; theists and atheists alike who happen to believe that marriage is between a man and a woman are selfish, hateful bigots, and the open-minded, tolerant theists and atheists who believe that anything goes as long as it makes you feel good are trying to shut down the opposition with rightly-deserved diatribes. But I digress. Have you ever thought about the logical arguments for atheism? I mean, they have to hold water, right? People as intelligent as Richard Dawkins have to have good reasons to believe that God doesn't exist. Don't they? Or is it something else that drives people to disbelieve in the existence of God?
Your Obedient Servant,
A.D. Catholic
Normally, I don't like it when people use sarcasm to tear down opposing arguments. As a general rule, if the only argument you have is one of mockery, then you have no argument, you just have a loud voice. But in the case of The Loser Letters, sarcasm and mockery are tempered by sympathy - and not "sympathy" of the patronizing kind. I know that seems like an oxymoron, but it isn't.
Using the voice of the "one and only convert" to atheism, a fictional character who signs her name with the pseudonym "A. F. (A Former) Christian," Mary Eberstadt manages to neatly expose the contradictions and downright foolishness of some major arguments in favor of atheism. In the book, A. F. Christian is trying to help her fellow atheists by explaining why the arguments don't hold water and by pointing out that they should quit using those arguments (the ones that don't quite make sense) because they only turn off potential converts.
This book is right on so many levels, I don't know where to begin. To save myself (and you) from an agonizingly long post, I'll just say that every one of the fallacies and contradictions that A. F. Christian so ably points out are true. Atheism and watered down religion that permit anyone to do whatever they want without any consequences are destroying our culture and, more importantly, destroying our young people. A. F. Christian is a case in point - but you'll have to read the book to find out more.
The sympathy comes later in the book when the reader finally discovers A. F.'s story. It's heartbreakingly sad; she could very easily be the poster girl for godlessness run amok. The sympathy that comes from A. F.'s sad story makes readers see atheists not as objects of mockery and sarcasm, but as misguided people. They simply live in a world where up is down and down is up, and we should give them our prayers, not our mockery.
*Spoiler Warning* The final part of the book seems to have its basis in Dante. Alas and alack, I have not read Dante, so I'm probably not the best person to analyze this part of the book. I'll keep it as basic as I can. In the last letter, we find that the rehab clinic where A. F. Christian has been living is really Purgatory. During the time that she has been there (and the time that she has written her letters), Jesus has given the angels a chance to figure out the state of A. F.'s soul. It's made quite clear that He doesn't really trust their judgment; He just lets them have a crack at it before He sends her off to the her final destination. My problem with this element is that the Catholic Church teaches that "Each man receives his eternal retribution in his immortal soul at the very moment of his death" (Catechism of the Catholic Church, section 1022). Meaning that if someone is headed to Hell he or she goes to Hell at the moment he or she dies. No short stop in Purgatory. Straight to Hell. The only explanation for this theological hiccup I can think of is that Jesus, knowing as He does the state of everybody's soul, knew she was headed to Heaven eventually anyway. In other words, he allows the angels to try to figure out the state of each soul in Purgatory, but all the souls they try to evaluate are headed to Heaven anyway. Which, in my mind at least, kind of defeats the whole purpose of the exercise. (Although I have to admit that the imagining of Purgatory as a rehab or "detox" place is a brilliant move.) *End of Spoiler*
In the end, The Loser Letters is about the pain and destruction that comes from cutting God and meaning out of life. Sure, the basic atheist arguments are destroyed like waves destroy sandcastles, but the fundamental point is not so much the foolishness of atheism. The fundamental point is that atheism has resulted in evils and suffering that have sickened our culture. Faced with such a world, theists can only pray and try to help the "collateral damage" pick up the pieces of their broken lives, trusting that God will heal all our wounds.
My Rating: MT (sexual and drug references, language, pervasive evil in people's lives)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Dear Theists, Atheists, and the Rest of Mankind,
If you're looking for a book that's dripping with sarcasm, full of truth, and more sobering than a cold shower and a cup of coffee, this is the book for you. I don't have to tell you that the debate about God and religion is center-stage right now. I mean, just look at the debate over marriage; theists and atheists alike who happen to believe that marriage is between a man and a woman are selfish, hateful bigots, and the open-minded, tolerant theists and atheists who believe that anything goes as long as it makes you feel good are trying to shut down the opposition with rightly-deserved diatribes. But I digress. Have you ever thought about the logical arguments for atheism? I mean, they have to hold water, right? People as intelligent as Richard Dawkins have to have good reasons to believe that God doesn't exist. Don't they? Or is it something else that drives people to disbelieve in the existence of God?
Your Obedient Servant,
A.D. Catholic
Normally, I don't like it when people use sarcasm to tear down opposing arguments. As a general rule, if the only argument you have is one of mockery, then you have no argument, you just have a loud voice. But in the case of The Loser Letters, sarcasm and mockery are tempered by sympathy - and not "sympathy" of the patronizing kind. I know that seems like an oxymoron, but it isn't.
Using the voice of the "one and only convert" to atheism, a fictional character who signs her name with the pseudonym "A. F. (A Former) Christian," Mary Eberstadt manages to neatly expose the contradictions and downright foolishness of some major arguments in favor of atheism. In the book, A. F. Christian is trying to help her fellow atheists by explaining why the arguments don't hold water and by pointing out that they should quit using those arguments (the ones that don't quite make sense) because they only turn off potential converts.
This book is right on so many levels, I don't know where to begin. To save myself (and you) from an agonizingly long post, I'll just say that every one of the fallacies and contradictions that A. F. Christian so ably points out are true. Atheism and watered down religion that permit anyone to do whatever they want without any consequences are destroying our culture and, more importantly, destroying our young people. A. F. Christian is a case in point - but you'll have to read the book to find out more.
The sympathy comes later in the book when the reader finally discovers A. F.'s story. It's heartbreakingly sad; she could very easily be the poster girl for godlessness run amok. The sympathy that comes from A. F.'s sad story makes readers see atheists not as objects of mockery and sarcasm, but as misguided people. They simply live in a world where up is down and down is up, and we should give them our prayers, not our mockery.
*Spoiler Warning* The final part of the book seems to have its basis in Dante. Alas and alack, I have not read Dante, so I'm probably not the best person to analyze this part of the book. I'll keep it as basic as I can. In the last letter, we find that the rehab clinic where A. F. Christian has been living is really Purgatory. During the time that she has been there (and the time that she has written her letters), Jesus has given the angels a chance to figure out the state of A. F.'s soul. It's made quite clear that He doesn't really trust their judgment; He just lets them have a crack at it before He sends her off to the her final destination. My problem with this element is that the Catholic Church teaches that "Each man receives his eternal retribution in his immortal soul at the very moment of his death" (Catechism of the Catholic Church, section 1022). Meaning that if someone is headed to Hell he or she goes to Hell at the moment he or she dies. No short stop in Purgatory. Straight to Hell. The only explanation for this theological hiccup I can think of is that Jesus, knowing as He does the state of everybody's soul, knew she was headed to Heaven eventually anyway. In other words, he allows the angels to try to figure out the state of each soul in Purgatory, but all the souls they try to evaluate are headed to Heaven anyway. Which, in my mind at least, kind of defeats the whole purpose of the exercise. (Although I have to admit that the imagining of Purgatory as a rehab or "detox" place is a brilliant move.) *End of Spoiler*
In the end, The Loser Letters is about the pain and destruction that comes from cutting God and meaning out of life. Sure, the basic atheist arguments are destroyed like waves destroy sandcastles, but the fundamental point is not so much the foolishness of atheism. The fundamental point is that atheism has resulted in evils and suffering that have sickened our culture. Faced with such a world, theists can only pray and try to help the "collateral damage" pick up the pieces of their broken lives, trusting that God will heal all our wounds.
My Rating: MT (sexual and drug references, language, pervasive evil in people's lives)
Reviews of similar books or movies:
Sunday, September 11, 2011
God Bless America
May God grant eternal life to those who died on 9/11. May He comfort their friends and families. May He guide and watch over the troops who have fought for us in the past and today.
- While the storm clouds gather far across the sea,
- Let us swear allegiance to a land that's free,
- Let us all be grateful for a land so fair,
- As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer.
- God bless America,
- Land that I love.
- Stand beside her, and guide her
- Through the night with a light from above.
- From the mountains, to the prairies,
- To the oceans, white with foam
- God bless America, My home sweet home
- God bless America, My home sweet home.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Regarding Leap Year
Anna Brady (Amy Adams) likes to control every aspect of her life. There's no such thing as luck in her mind - if you make the right plans, everything turns out right. If you don't, then things can get ugly. Unfortunately, the only part of her life that she can't control is her marital status. Her longtime boyfriend seems to have no interest in marriage, and Anna knows only too well that the man must always propose. Or must he? It just so happens that there's an old Irish tradition that a woman can propose to her man on February 29th. And seeing as how it's leap year and her boyfriend is at a convention in Dublin... well, Anna decides to take control and hops on a plane. But when her flight is diverted and she ends up being driven across Ireland by a handsome Irish rogue named Declan (Matthew Goode), she discovers that she just might lose control of her heart.
As you can probably guess from the blurb above, this is a typical romantic comedy. Boy meets girl, at least one of them is entangled in a relationship with an annoying/creepy/stupid/selfish person, they fight all the time, are forced into some hilarious and/or uncomfortable situations, eventually discover they're in love, almost miss their chance at happiness, but eventually get it through their thick skulls that they belong together and should act accordingly. I won't say I'm an expert on romantic comedies (I've only seen a few), but from the summaries I've read, I'm pretty sure that's how most of them go. Leap Year follows the same pattern, but with a few refreshing differences from a typical Hollywood movie.
First, Anna is fixated on the idea of plans, control, and marriage. She looks at Jeremy (Adam Scott), her boyfriend, and sees a man who just doesn't have the nerve - or something - to ask her to marry him. But marriage, or perhaps the security that comes with marriage, is what she really wants. So she decides she's going to take matters into her own hands and propose to him. This is a move that would be applauded by feminists everywhere. After all, when the man becomes too weak, the woman should step in and be the man, right? Just look at Enchanted or any one of the seemingly endless movies where it is implied that women are the ones who really save the day. Fortunately, Leap Year rejects the ideas that men and women are interchangeable and that women should be tougher and more manly than men. In the end, Declan respectfully lets Anna make her choice, but he takes the lead in the relationship when she comes back to him.
Second, and perhaps just as importantly, the message of the movie is that marriage is an essential ingredient in a relationship. It's implied that Jeremy takes too long to commit to marriage, and when he does, he commits for the wrong reason. Jeremy is all about plans (plans for things that he wants for himself), and when marriage fits into the plan, he decides to take the leap. That relationship and that kind of "love" are exposed as severely wanting. Declan, on the other hand, considers marriage as a plan in itself and decides to take that step with Anna without an ulterior motive. He doesn't need to be pushed into marriage, and even wants to get married despite Anna's offer of a relationship without marriage.
Finally, Declan respects Anna even when he could easily take advantage of her. In a typical, but funny situation, the two have to pose as a married couple in order to stay the night in the house of an old couple. Declan begs his way into sharing a bed with Anna (for reasons of comfort), but the two keep their physical distance as much as possible in the small bed. This, despite the feelings awoken when the two shared their first kiss earlier that day, and despite a long look that passes between them as they lie in bed. Declan is the one to emphatically turn his back, showing his respect for her and for the "Jeremy" she seems so eager to marry. Unfortunately, it is implied that the two don't retain their physical distance after they become engaged, but Leap Year does take a pretty large step in the right direction nonetheless.
I'm a fan of clean romances and romantic comedies, though both are few and far between. Leap Year manages to be funny and fairly clean, with a handsome hero complete with an Irish brogue, a pretty heroine who needs to learn a few lessons, and a good old Irish flavor. In the end, though, it's the refreshingly (almost) correct look at commitment and the selfish, soulless way people view love these days that make this movie worth it.
My Rating: T (mild sexual content and references, mild language)
As you can probably guess from the blurb above, this is a typical romantic comedy. Boy meets girl, at least one of them is entangled in a relationship with an annoying/creepy/stupid/selfish person, they fight all the time, are forced into some hilarious and/or uncomfortable situations, eventually discover they're in love, almost miss their chance at happiness, but eventually get it through their thick skulls that they belong together and should act accordingly. I won't say I'm an expert on romantic comedies (I've only seen a few), but from the summaries I've read, I'm pretty sure that's how most of them go. Leap Year follows the same pattern, but with a few refreshing differences from a typical Hollywood movie.
First, Anna is fixated on the idea of plans, control, and marriage. She looks at Jeremy (Adam Scott), her boyfriend, and sees a man who just doesn't have the nerve - or something - to ask her to marry him. But marriage, or perhaps the security that comes with marriage, is what she really wants. So she decides she's going to take matters into her own hands and propose to him. This is a move that would be applauded by feminists everywhere. After all, when the man becomes too weak, the woman should step in and be the man, right? Just look at Enchanted or any one of the seemingly endless movies where it is implied that women are the ones who really save the day. Fortunately, Leap Year rejects the ideas that men and women are interchangeable and that women should be tougher and more manly than men. In the end, Declan respectfully lets Anna make her choice, but he takes the lead in the relationship when she comes back to him.
Second, and perhaps just as importantly, the message of the movie is that marriage is an essential ingredient in a relationship. It's implied that Jeremy takes too long to commit to marriage, and when he does, he commits for the wrong reason. Jeremy is all about plans (plans for things that he wants for himself), and when marriage fits into the plan, he decides to take the leap. That relationship and that kind of "love" are exposed as severely wanting. Declan, on the other hand, considers marriage as a plan in itself and decides to take that step with Anna without an ulterior motive. He doesn't need to be pushed into marriage, and even wants to get married despite Anna's offer of a relationship without marriage.
Finally, Declan respects Anna even when he could easily take advantage of her. In a typical, but funny situation, the two have to pose as a married couple in order to stay the night in the house of an old couple. Declan begs his way into sharing a bed with Anna (for reasons of comfort), but the two keep their physical distance as much as possible in the small bed. This, despite the feelings awoken when the two shared their first kiss earlier that day, and despite a long look that passes between them as they lie in bed. Declan is the one to emphatically turn his back, showing his respect for her and for the "Jeremy" she seems so eager to marry. Unfortunately, it is implied that the two don't retain their physical distance after they become engaged, but Leap Year does take a pretty large step in the right direction nonetheless.
I'm a fan of clean romances and romantic comedies, though both are few and far between. Leap Year manages to be funny and fairly clean, with a handsome hero complete with an Irish brogue, a pretty heroine who needs to learn a few lessons, and a good old Irish flavor. In the end, though, it's the refreshingly (almost) correct look at commitment and the selfish, soulless way people view love these days that make this movie worth it.
My Rating: T (mild sexual content and references, mild language)
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