I’d like to thank two groups of people for making Play It Again possible. First, there are the four film writers who took the time to contribute. These are writers who I not only hold enormous respect for, but have actually collected checks for their reviews and essays. Each one of them has likely forgotten more about film than I currently know. Their time at the keyboard can literally mean money, and I’m grateful that they decided to donate their insight and wisdom to the feature.
And then there are those who have written little or nothing about film. These eleven folks were in the majority of Play It Again contributors, and had to do something difficult: stretch as writers. Nearly every one of them reported to me that the act was much more challenging and time consuming than they had anticipated. Despite this, I was consistently impressed by the complexity of the writing, by the insights shared, and how passionate the authors were about a wide range of films. I can only hope that they ultimately enjoyed the experience of thinking about film from a different perspective as much as I did reading the results.
When I started firing off recruitment emails for this feature, I had decided that I wanted my friends and readers to not only see what films have become integral parts of the spiritual lives of others, but to consider which ones had affected their own. Once again, my heartfelt thanks to all who participated, as well as those that took the time to see what others had to say.
Some statistics about Play It Again’s contributors:
16 white men
14 Midwesterners
14 people in their twenties
12 with degrees from the University of Northern Iowa
9 bloggers
5 married people
5 single people
4 teachers
3 engaged people
3 people in their thirties
2 NRA members
2 published poets
2 with children
2 Westerners
1 Asian man
1 man living in Asia
1 white woman
1 South-westerner
1 Southerner
1 PhD
1 Lawyer
1 man in his sixties
1 Sunday school teacher
1 Mixed-martial arts fighter
1 Serving in the US armed forces
1 man working in the film industry
Highest Grossing Film: Star Wars (1977)
Lowest Grossing Feature Film: Requiem for a Dream (2000)
Most Recent Film: Happy-Go-Lucky (2008)
Oldest Film: Sergeant York (1941)
Number of Coen Brothers Films: 2
Number of Howard Hawks Films: 2
Number of Films Starring Bill Murray: 2
Highest Ranked Film on the IMDB Top 250: Pulp Fiction (1994)
Number of people that told me they would participate and then didn't: 4
Number of Comedies:9
Number of Sci-Fi Films: 2
Number of Westerns: 1
Directors represented by Play It Again:
Woody Allen
Wes Anderson
Darren Aronofsky
The Coen Brothers
Howard Hawks
Ron Howard
Mike Judge
Stanley Kubrick
Mike Leigh
George Lucas
Harold Ramis
Rob Reiner
John Schultz
Stephen Spielberg
Quentin Tarantino
Robert Zemeckis
Here are all of the entries listed in alphabetical order of film discussed:
2001: A Space Odyssey - Scott Cawelti
Annie Hall - Paul Clark
A Beautiful Mind - Ramin Honary
The Big Lebowski - Aaron McNally
Drive Me Crazy - Eric Mohling
Forrest Gump - Dustin Lilleskov
Groundhog Day - James Frazier
Happy-Go-Lucky - Nick Roos
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou - Tony Girard
Office Space - Ryan Droste
The Princess Bride - Ryan Toppin
Pulp Fiction - Dylan Vennemann
Raising Arizona - Christian Toto
Rejected - Steve Carlson
Requiem for a Dream - Chris Youde
Rio Bravo - Adam Ross
Schindler's List - Ramin Honary
Sergeant York - Steve Waechter
Star Wars - Laura Reeder
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Friday, June 05, 2009
475 - Play It Again #19 - Groundhog Day
James Frazier knows how to write about himself in the third-person. He has been writing movie reviews since 2006, posting them to his blog in hopes that he'll attract readers. Since starting the blog he has made a few grand by writing reviews for his university's paper and for the local outfit. He receives a lot of hate mail from children and people that have no business going anywhere near a college campus. He's wrapping up his MA in Creative Writing, though he has the misfortune of graduating in this economy. James loved shooting guns until a box of ammunition started costing as much as a Friday night out. Somehow, he has managed to acrue a lot of friends and has never dated a woman below a 6 out of 10. He's originally from Mississippi, and a complete list of his film scores can be found right here where the words are.
After much consideration, James has selected Harold Ramis' 1993 comedy "Groundhog Day" for its thematic resonance with the feature.
Watching “Groundhog Day” even once is itself an exercise in repetitive viewing. As its protagonist experiences the same day thousands of times, so do we, the details repeating themselves until the picture is intimately familiar. The intellectually curious among us study works of art obsessively, cataloguing aspects and facets, but how many people apply that same interest to not just the world around them, but the individuals who inhabit it?
“Groundhog Day” is one of the most beloved comedies that is discussed largely without regard to how much laughter it generates. It’s certainly funny, but not aggressively so. It’s not one of the quotables, nor does it push any envelope of taste or convention. The great joys of “Groundhog Day” are of the philosophical kind, the sort with which comfort and familiarity are paramount. How many viewers herald this film as genius after the first trip through Phil Connors’ very long Groundhog Day? Few, I’d imagine; the film’s restrained performances, Ramis’ casually masterful repetition of the day, and the gentleness of its spirit serve to undersell its merits. This is perhaps the quintessential film that you have to see more than once to appreciate, which makes it fitting that the premise sees its hero have to actually study life in order to truly cherish it.
I got to know “Groundhog Day” through its countless airings on cable networks such as TBS. The extremely episodic and repetitive nature of the film made it an easy one to slip into at virtually any point to one who knows the premise, which sees its hero endlessly reliving the exact same February 2 in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. The film’s pleasant demeanor belies its impeccable craftsmanship, and I had probably been watching it periodically for nearly ten years before its genius permeated my consciousness, announcing itself as one of the cinema’s indispensable works even as it had been acting in that capacity for a great deal of time. Here is an impeccable example of why we run films through repeated viewings: we’re not just doing it to further cherish the movies we already know we love, but to realize that we can fall in love with familiar ones.
File Bill Murrary’s turn as misanthropic reporter Phil Connors as one of the great under-rewarded performances in screen history. Not even a Golden Globe nomination for Murray, even as he crafted one of mainstream cinema’s most complex and challenging protagonists. It’s unusual for a hero to be innocent of a single moment of genuine kindness for the first half of a film, but Phil not only gains our sympathy, he earns it. Many characters grow, but his truly changes, the irrepressibly good-natured townsfolk and his love for Rita (Andie MacDowell), his effervescent producer, permeating his spirit until his natural asperity gives way to a profound transformation of the spirit.
Other actors were considered for the role. Chevy Chase? Too bland. Steve Martin? His sarcasm seems to stem from mild irritation rather than pain. Tom Hanks? Too nice, as Ramis said. But Murray imbues Phil with a melancholy that remains visible even as his attitude reaches the zenith of its acridity. The depth of his performance is best understood by a mid-film scene. Phil, immortal and unable to end his suffering, reveals the bizarre details of his imprisonment to Rita, who sits, shocked, as he confesses deep love for her, unveiling his seemingly omnipotent knowledge and tortured yearning for her affection. It’s at this point we come to love Phil, his acerbic attitude revealed as one concealing torment at unrequited love.
There’s a poetry that’s both metaphysical and deeply heartfelt to the film’s second half, which sees Phil move from denial to acceptance of his cyclical fate. The prominent details studied endlessly, he finds ways to enjoy eternal life, such the soothing sounds of a piano or the esoteric art of ice sculpting. But it’s ultimately Phil’s embrace of self-improvement and service to others that makes his existence a rich one, allowing him to finally wake up with the love of his life, smile, and look forward to what comes next with exhilaration and optimism. - James Frazier
After much consideration, James has selected Harold Ramis' 1993 comedy "Groundhog Day" for its thematic resonance with the feature.
Watching “Groundhog Day” even once is itself an exercise in repetitive viewing. As its protagonist experiences the same day thousands of times, so do we, the details repeating themselves until the picture is intimately familiar. The intellectually curious among us study works of art obsessively, cataloguing aspects and facets, but how many people apply that same interest to not just the world around them, but the individuals who inhabit it?
“Groundhog Day” is one of the most beloved comedies that is discussed largely without regard to how much laughter it generates. It’s certainly funny, but not aggressively so. It’s not one of the quotables, nor does it push any envelope of taste or convention. The great joys of “Groundhog Day” are of the philosophical kind, the sort with which comfort and familiarity are paramount. How many viewers herald this film as genius after the first trip through Phil Connors’ very long Groundhog Day? Few, I’d imagine; the film’s restrained performances, Ramis’ casually masterful repetition of the day, and the gentleness of its spirit serve to undersell its merits. This is perhaps the quintessential film that you have to see more than once to appreciate, which makes it fitting that the premise sees its hero have to actually study life in order to truly cherish it.
I got to know “Groundhog Day” through its countless airings on cable networks such as TBS. The extremely episodic and repetitive nature of the film made it an easy one to slip into at virtually any point to one who knows the premise, which sees its hero endlessly reliving the exact same February 2 in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. The film’s pleasant demeanor belies its impeccable craftsmanship, and I had probably been watching it periodically for nearly ten years before its genius permeated my consciousness, announcing itself as one of the cinema’s indispensable works even as it had been acting in that capacity for a great deal of time. Here is an impeccable example of why we run films through repeated viewings: we’re not just doing it to further cherish the movies we already know we love, but to realize that we can fall in love with familiar ones.
File Bill Murrary’s turn as misanthropic reporter Phil Connors as one of the great under-rewarded performances in screen history. Not even a Golden Globe nomination for Murray, even as he crafted one of mainstream cinema’s most complex and challenging protagonists. It’s unusual for a hero to be innocent of a single moment of genuine kindness for the first half of a film, but Phil not only gains our sympathy, he earns it. Many characters grow, but his truly changes, the irrepressibly good-natured townsfolk and his love for Rita (Andie MacDowell), his effervescent producer, permeating his spirit until his natural asperity gives way to a profound transformation of the spirit.
Other actors were considered for the role. Chevy Chase? Too bland. Steve Martin? His sarcasm seems to stem from mild irritation rather than pain. Tom Hanks? Too nice, as Ramis said. But Murray imbues Phil with a melancholy that remains visible even as his attitude reaches the zenith of its acridity. The depth of his performance is best understood by a mid-film scene. Phil, immortal and unable to end his suffering, reveals the bizarre details of his imprisonment to Rita, who sits, shocked, as he confesses deep love for her, unveiling his seemingly omnipotent knowledge and tortured yearning for her affection. It’s at this point we come to love Phil, his acerbic attitude revealed as one concealing torment at unrequited love.
There’s a poetry that’s both metaphysical and deeply heartfelt to the film’s second half, which sees Phil move from denial to acceptance of his cyclical fate. The prominent details studied endlessly, he finds ways to enjoy eternal life, such the soothing sounds of a piano or the esoteric art of ice sculpting. But it’s ultimately Phil’s embrace of self-improvement and service to others that makes his existence a rich one, allowing him to finally wake up with the love of his life, smile, and look forward to what comes next with exhilaration and optimism. - James Frazier
Thursday, June 04, 2009
474
Tomorrow, I'll bring Play It Again to a close with a final entry and some commentary. A couple of news points:
1. I'm now the owner of www.jamesfrazier.biz. I'd have much preferred a .com or .net, but they were taken. That link will simply direct here, and the old address will continue to function as it has been.
2. I've done a massive update to the master list, with just under fifty additions. If you think you would like looking at a huge list of my movie scores, check it out!
1. I'm now the owner of www.jamesfrazier.biz. I'd have much preferred a .com or .net, but they were taken. That link will simply direct here, and the old address will continue to function as it has been.
2. I've done a massive update to the master list, with just under fifty additions. If you think you would like looking at a huge list of my movie scores, check it out!
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
473 - Play It Again #18 - Requiem for a Dream
Chris Youde is a local celebrity of sorts, at least if you're in my age range. It's a rare occasion where I run into someone in the Cedar Valley who doesn't know him, who hasn't gone to one of his shows, watched one of his short films, or read one of his angry diatribes against law enforcement in the local paper. An enthusiastic movie-watcher, Chris' dearest love is music, and he has shown exceptional potential as a composer, both of soundtracks and music for its own sake. Chris is also a member of the National Rifle Association, though he voted for Cynthia McKinney because he found it funny. And if you're looking for someone who knows every conceivable publicly available detail about Metallica, then he's your man.
Chris' selection is "Requiem for a Dream," Darren Aronofsky's 2000 film which takes us on a harrowing journey through the lives of substance abusers.
When you hook up any video device, you plug in something for the sound and the picture. “Requiem for a Dream” is a perfect example of how great care can be taken for these elements to make a beautiful movie.
The subject of addiction is something we all have to deal with. All of us have dreams of being something more than what we are and yet there are so many distractions/road blocks that get in our way. “Requiem for a Dream” shows how a majority of us deal with addiction and its devastating effects. My favorite shot in the movie is when Sara Goldfarb (Ellen Burstyn) is cleaning her apartment in a time lapse fashion, brilliantly revealing how the character’s decisions have resulted in their downfall. It took roughly 30 minutes for director Darren Aronofsky to get that shot. It also took timed lighting to give the effect of a day going by, which on every viewing caused me to consider how the medium can be cleverly manipulated to craft a story.
For years films have mercilessly overused MTV-style cuts for a shallow effect. Yet Aronofksy employs them to devastating effect, combing them with a jarring soundtrack that plunges the viewer into the world of addiction. Combined with countless bizarre sound effects, Clint Mansell’s score makes you feel like you’re on these drugs the characters are using. The complexity and variety of this soundtrack is stunning, as we go anywhere from the Kronos Quartet wailing out the powerful main theme to floating on a simple cello line to the shirking notes of the tragic ending.
The reason I watch it over and over is not just for the fact that it’s a marvelous piece of art but to remind myself to keep my own impulses in check, living life carefully in order to avoid these drug-addled people’s grisly fate. It reminds me how powerful movies are, and with every viewing the impact grows. - Chris Youde
Chris' selection is "Requiem for a Dream," Darren Aronofsky's 2000 film which takes us on a harrowing journey through the lives of substance abusers.
When you hook up any video device, you plug in something for the sound and the picture. “Requiem for a Dream” is a perfect example of how great care can be taken for these elements to make a beautiful movie.
The subject of addiction is something we all have to deal with. All of us have dreams of being something more than what we are and yet there are so many distractions/road blocks that get in our way. “Requiem for a Dream” shows how a majority of us deal with addiction and its devastating effects. My favorite shot in the movie is when Sara Goldfarb (Ellen Burstyn) is cleaning her apartment in a time lapse fashion, brilliantly revealing how the character’s decisions have resulted in their downfall. It took roughly 30 minutes for director Darren Aronofsky to get that shot. It also took timed lighting to give the effect of a day going by, which on every viewing caused me to consider how the medium can be cleverly manipulated to craft a story.
For years films have mercilessly overused MTV-style cuts for a shallow effect. Yet Aronofksy employs them to devastating effect, combing them with a jarring soundtrack that plunges the viewer into the world of addiction. Combined with countless bizarre sound effects, Clint Mansell’s score makes you feel like you’re on these drugs the characters are using. The complexity and variety of this soundtrack is stunning, as we go anywhere from the Kronos Quartet wailing out the powerful main theme to floating on a simple cello line to the shirking notes of the tragic ending.
The reason I watch it over and over is not just for the fact that it’s a marvelous piece of art but to remind myself to keep my own impulses in check, living life carefully in order to avoid these drug-addled people’s grisly fate. It reminds me how powerful movies are, and with every viewing the impact grows. - Chris Youde
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