Cavalcade of Holiday Fun!

Why, you might ask yourself, is the only Jew on staff here at Clapboard doing the Christmas season review? That is a good question, but one that easily answered. As a person of the “Jewish persuasion,” I may be the ideal person to do a run down of my favourite Christmas movies. Why?

First, because I have had 28 years of holiday movie watching relatively uninterrupted by family or religious obligations in late December. Unlike most other North Americans who claim to rest and enjoy themselves over the holiday break, I actually can.

Second, like, oh say, Neil Diamond singing “Silent Night” over the loud speakers in every mall on the continent today, Christmas is something I just have to work with. I cannot ignore Christmas pictures any more than any other film reviewer – they make up their own genre, so far be it from me to shirk my responsibility to know them simply by playing the religion card.

Third, I actually like Christmas movies, to be honest. It is not that I believe all that baloney about the magic of Christmas bringing out the best in everyone, yadda, yadda, yadda. Rather, it is that I enjoy the mythology of Christmas films, as well as that crisp hope that radiates from some, or that callous spite that rolls off others. Truly, there are few movie seasons like Christmas, so I find myself jumping at the chance to pick and choose my favourite ones.

Now, a word before we continue. First, I will not be including Eight Crazy Nights (though that wasn’t a bad movie) or any other rare Hanukkah film simply to round out the word “holiday” in some farcical attempt to show I don’t mean Christmas. That is a privilege I claim on the grounds that people can’t accuse me of forgetting that non-Christians exist in December.

Second, I am not terribly traditional in my definition of Christmas movie, but there are some limits. Unlike ABC, I refuse to believe that My Fair Lady (which I believe takes place in Spring) or The Sound of Music (which, aside from the words “crisp and white, clean and bright” is not all that Christmassy, really) or, even worse, Fiddler on the Roof (!!) are Christmas films. Therefore, I will try to give brief reasons why each film is a holiday film in my book.



Now, people try to pin romance on Valentine’s Day, or possibly lazy summers by the lake, but, for my money, those last weeks of December and those first nights of January really make up the Season of Love. This is why every Christmas, I start leaning towards the rom-com genre, which, luckily, has a good crop of Christmas crossover appeal. A sure fire bet, and one of the best romantic comedies ever made, is When Harry Met Sally…. Sure, purists may deem this not a holiday movie, but when Harry runs into that New Year’s Eve dance to find the woman he has just realized he loves, and says those great words… You get the idea. (Love + magic + decorations = Holiday, ok?) This movie always tops my holiday viewing list – enjoyable story and good characters, and, let’s face it, Billy Crystal has never been more loveable before or since.

Of course, if your mood for romantic comedies requires a larger portion, you can’t go wrong with Bridget Jones’s Diary, or its bastard cousin the much maligned (though not as horrible as it is cracked up to be) sequel, or the rash of hip British winter-themed romantic comedies that followed it, including About a Boy (“Santa’s Super Sleigh” kills me) and Love, Actually. Still, for my money, WHMS is the tops.

However, while the holiday season is the perfect time for love, it is also a great time for disaffectedness, alienation, existential angst, and abject romantic poverty. If this group includes you, you will find your comfort in the numerous anti-Christmas pictures made over the years. I am tempted to through The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind in there (hey, there was that one Christmas scene… right?), but my pick for this category would have to be, for modern stuff, The Ice Harvest, which is about as cold a holiday film as you can get. The clue: when someone’s wife is found dead kneeling over her Christmas presents on Christmas Eve, this is not a feel good film for the joy of the season. A contemporary noir, The Ice Harvest is often grizzly, but seldom dull, and it illustrates nicely how everything can go to hell at Christmas.

In terms of classics, I find it odd that no one recognizes Chaplin’s The Gold Rush as a holiday film. The fact that it takes place in snow helps, of course, but the Tramp’s dejection on New Year’s is a tragedy that plays itself out so regularly during the festive season that one cannot help but see this comedy masterpiece as a timeless tale of Christmas blues.

Now, classics buffs would scream if I did not mention It’s a Wonderful Life.

Ok, done.

No, seriously, It’s a Wonderful Life is a fine film, though not as sugary as it has been cracked up to be by parodies and memories. Sadly, that dark undercurrent of suicidal tendency is probably all too relevant for the holiday season. However, if we are going for Capri-corn, I have to suggest a lesser known, but just as enduring and touching, film, Meet John Doe. “John Doe,” played by the always alluring Gary Cooper, is a man pushed to his limits by the inhumanity of the system, and who demands that the world change, or he ends it all on Christmas Eve. Of course, in the meantime there is love, hard-bitten reporters and other things we have all grown to demand from 1930/40s melodramas, but there is also heart and wit here, too, and I find it an unforgettable film.



Next, we have a story that is very nearly a genre in its own right – Dicken’s A Christmas Carol. This is an oft-told tale, but one you’d be hard pressed to dislike. Scrooge, the iconic miser, is about as great as a character gets, and the basic myth of Christmas presented in this story makes this a permanent foundational text of our culture. However, not all versions are created equal, though I’d say you’d be safe watching any version shown on late night TV on Christmas weekend (there is a certain thrill to watching this movie after midnight on Christmas Eve – check it and see). My favourite all time versions have to include the ever-loved Bill Murray updating Scrooged, the classic 1951 Alastair Sims version Scrooge (they dropped the fancy title in honest recognition of who is the real attraction of this story), and the cute Muppet’s Christmas Carol staring Michael Cane as Scrooge, and Kermit as Bob Cratchit. However even less glorified versions deserve a look in, such as Patrick Stewart’s HBO rendering (featuring the wonderful Joel Grey and Richard E. Grant in supporting roles).

Best Christmas line ever? “Must I be accosted by these blasted sea urchins?”




Finally, the best and the greatest of all Christmas movies, as even acknowledged by its unvarnished title, has to be A Christmas Story. Maybe the title doesn’t even ring a bell, but the gist should come back to you if I yell, “You’ll shoot your eye out!” Remember it now? A beautiful piece of American nostalgia, this film reminds us that it isn’t always about getting exactly what you want (because answered prayers can still turn bad), or about having a perfect family or home. It is about the kind of memories that the holidays leave you with that matter in the long run. And a perfect holiday meal can be served at your dining room table or at a Chinese restaurant, but that makes it no less perfect.

So, no matter what your faith or culture, Christmas and seasonal films can entertain, warm the heart and delight the soul, and there is a wide variety for them to choose from. From the absurd to the sublime, Christmas has become part of our shared cinematic heritage, so stay in, hug someone you love tightly, and enjoy the season of screen magic.

Happy Holidays!

Little Miss Sunshine

I went to see Little Miss Sunshine (2006) on a rainy afternoon in London, because I was afraid it wouldn’t be playing in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, when I returned home. It was. I saw it a second time.


Little Miss Sunshine follows a road trip from New Mexico to California with Olive’s family. Olive is a seven-year-old beauty pageant fanatic. When she was visiting her aunt in California, she entered a pageant for girls and placed second. Later, she gets a message that the winner was made ineligible (with a throw-away comment alluding to diet pills) and she was asked to come to the Little Miss Sunshine pageant in California. She gets this news at a bad time. Olive’s family is a perfect storm of bad attitudes, bad chemicals and disappointment, but they all have to pile into a barely-functioning yellow VW bus to make the trek.

Olive’s father (Greg Kinnear) is an unsuccessful motivational speaker, which has got to be the sorriest vocation one could ever name. His “9 Steps To Success” have seeped out of his seminars and into his everyday life, where he pressures Olive to win and derides losers for not “wanting it” enough.

Olive’s mother Sheryl (Toni Collette) is the one that tries to put everything in perspective. She’s the voice of reason. She’s the protector. She’s the reader of post-modern child-rearing books. She’s nurturing and sweet without being cloying.


Sheryl’s brother Frank (Steve Carell) comes to live with the family in the opening scenes of the movie. He is recovering from an unsuccessful suicide attempt caused by the unrequited love of one of his grad students (he’s a Proust scholar) and his subsequent mental breakdown and dismissal at his University. Steve Carell will be nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the Oscars, I prophesy. He was positively crush-worthy in this movie, and his great beard and pale tropical vacation/mental patient clothing didn’t hurt. I don’t feel warm fuzzies for him when he’s playing Michael Scott on “The Office.” I was very impressed.

Olive’s paternal grandfather (Alan Arkin) has also recently moved into the house. He was forcibly removed from his retirement community for being a belligerent jerk. Oh, and abusing heroin. He dedicates most of his time to cursing and helping Olive rehearse for non-exsistant beauty pageants. For all his nastiness, he might be the sweetest character in the whole picture.

Sheryl says Olive’s brother Dwayne (Paul Dano) has taken a vow of silence until he gets accepted into the Air Force. That’s not the whole story, but he doesn’t tell anyone but his uncle Frank, via a notepad and pen.

The writing and direction in Little Miss Sunshine is so accurate and astute that the audience knows the stories of all the characters in the first few minutes, as the titles roll. It’s the strength of that storytelling and the acting that make this such a sweet, disturbing, and funny film. It’s the kind of screenplay combined with great casting that I love to see – its economy, subtlety, and charm make this one of my favourite movies of the year.


This is more than a road trip movie, and although there is a group-hug-like moment at one point, it’s more than a saccharine story about a damaged family or damaged parts of a family whole. This family doesn’t stick together because they’re family. They’re stuck together because they’re family. There’s the difference.

Little Miss Sunshine is going to be released on DVD on December 19th, 2006. If you were unable to see it before, I highly recommend renting it. Those who have seen it before intend to rent in anyway.

The Truth About Cats and Dogs

OK. Hands up if you don’t think Ben Chaplin is a living doll. Good. Now hands up if wouldn’t wrap Janeane Garofalo up and take her home. Excellent. This is a very good start.

So The Truth About Cats and Dogs (1996) is neither new, nor is it particularly a classic. It is, however, a sweet and enjoyable piece of fluff, and one of my favourite guilty pleasures. So, yeah, I am the silent picture and Italian art film fan… But one does not live on art alone. Sometimes, you have to go for the cream and sugar, people, and this one, for me, is a sure fire winner.

Basically, The Truth About Cats and Dogs is Cyrano de Bergerac for women. Abby (Janeane Garofalo), a clever and successful radio animal expert, is funny and personable, but shy and not exactly classically beautiful. Her neighbour, Noelle (Uma Thurman), is tall, willowy, blond and beloved by about 97% of the straight male population with eyes. Abby falls for a sweet-natured and sexy British guy (Ben Chaplin), who also happens to be head-over-heels in love with the woman he met over the phone, who just happens to be Abby. Abby, however, is so certain that a handsome guy would have no interest in her that she mistakenly asks her friend Noelle to stand in for her. From there, we get the classic rom-com comedy of errors.

Follow me so far?

Naturally, all ends up well, and I don’t think I will spoil anyone’s expectations by hinting that the best woman wins.

So, what do we get here? A pleasant fiction, my inner-cynic tells me, in which men really can love a personality so much that they can ignore the outer-package. Actually, it is even more far-fetched than that – he doesn’t just ignore the outer package. His love for her sense of humour and intelligence actually makes her physically attractive to him.

Is this one for Ripley’s Believe it or Not? Can a man love a personality to the point where the body is secondary?

I don’t know the answer to that. Aside from the fact that Janeane Garofalo is still better looking than like 80% of all us lowly non-movie-star ladies out there, this is a pretty big fish story to swallow. Still, we the audience desperately wants to believe, and, somehow, despite the occasionally spotty acting and huge suspension of belief issues, the movie does manage to satisfy and is highly re-watchable.

One thing is for certain, as the information highway brings AIM, Yahoo and five million other forms of chat into our lives and living rooms, the answers to the questions raised in this film will take on a much larger significance for our society… And this pleasant fiction may find itself gaining legions of new followers who are ready, willing and desperate to believe its fairy tale ending.

So go, rent, enjoy. Who doesn’t like a pleasant fiction every once in a while?

Lady in the Water

Oh, M. Night Shyamalan. I want to like you. I really do! Why, then, are you so strong in some areas and so transparently lame in others? Or inconsistently lame and strong, anyway?

I suspect a lot of the problem is the one-man-bandedness of his works. He writes and directs all his movies, so all the blame or praise falls to him. In this case, was it a blessing or a curse that Sixth Sense (1999) was his first feature film?


Ok. Lady in the Water (2006). Paul Giamatti plays Cleveland Heap, a put-upon apartment complex superintendeant that seems somewhat contented to work and live with the miscellaneous characters that occupy the building. Like the weird little dude who is only working out one side of his body. Or the family with five sisters. The war buff. The film critic who clumsily analyses his life as if it were a film. The author and his sister. More on the author later.

Bryce Dallas Howard plays a sea nymph who appears in the pool of Cleveland’s complex. Yeah. I tried to care about/pay attention to this storyline, so bear with me. A long time ago, humans and sea creatures were friendly, but then men became more obsessed with owning material objects, and didn’t care about the sea creatures anymore. Uh, star babies of the sea nymphs were sent to live among men and if they could spiritually commune with one, or something, something good would happen.

My confusion or ambivalence on the storyline is fuelled by multiple amendments and addendums to the original story as the movie progressed. It’s like this, oh, no it’s not, it’s like this, oh, did I forget to say this? It gets tiring and boring really fast. How lazy was Shyamalan when he was writing this screenplay that he didn’t even try to insinuate story twists with any sort of finesse? They are slammed into the proceedings like a lump of clay thrown on the floor.

I liked the directing. The direction was cool. Shyamalan likes to frame his subjects very tightly, so the audience can’t see what the character sees, or, what the character can’t see. It’s a very effective tool in suspenseful directing. He knows that what you can’t see is often more frightening than what you can. Still, he showed us the aliens in Signs (2002). It was scary up to that point.

Paul Giamatti is an amazing actor. He is not a big screen hunk, and he doesn’t choose broadly funny roles, but he is captivating to watch with excellent comic timing. In Lady in the Water, his Cleveland stutters. Giamatti portrays stuttering with understanding and style. It’s not the stereotypical broken-record uncontrollable repetition of the first phoneme (“puh-puh-puh-puffed sleeves”), but the kind of unpredictable and troubled speech from which so many stutterers suffer. I just remembered: stuttering was mentioned in The Sixth Sense, too.

I said I’d get back to the author. He is played by Shyamalan, in his biggest role to date. (Until now, he’d taken a page out of Hitchcock's book, which is called “Appearing in Your Own Film.” He was only a tiny glimpse or cameo in his other films, but in Lady in the Water, it’s a proper role.) His character, when played by himself, and the plotline he has given Vic, is probably one of the most self-serving and egotistic turns I’ve ever witnessed. The Nymph (whose name, annoyingly, is “Story”), tells him that the book he’s in the process of writing will influence the future president of the United States, and will bring about an era of world peace. Oh, and he’d be murdered because of his ideas. Posthumous glory. How tragic. Is Shyamalan trying to say that we’ll only really appreciate his movies when he’s dead? That’s a tall order when it comes to this offering.

Everyone said it was crap, but I went to see it anyway. I should learn my lessons. Rotten Tomatoes gave this movie 21%. 15% of that is Giamatti, and 6% is for the line, “Mr. Heap is a player!”

The Frisco Kid

Comedies from the 1970s have a distinctive flare to them, and comedy-westerns of that decade almost constitute their own genre. It is, perhaps, an acquired taste, but often well worth the viewing.

Robert Aldrich’s The Frisco Kid (1979) came out on DVD just this past spring, and was long awaited on home video format by students of Jewishness in American cinema. We have grown quite used to fictional glimpses of Jewish life in America in the late 1800s, but very few have taken us where this one does: The Westward Wagon Trail and the Pacific coast.


The Frisco Kid is Gene Wilder, who plays Avram Belinski, the 88th out of 89 rabbinical students in his Yeshiva class back in Poland. This less-than-astounding record earns him an unenviable position. His superiors decide he will be sent to San Francisco, where the growing Jewish community requires a rabbi. He sails to Philadelphia without incident, but, naturally, his trek through the Wild West is not so easy. He finds himself, robbed and defenseless, wandering in the wilderness. Helped along by the Amish (who he first mistakes for Hasidim), employed by the railway, and assaulted by food-robbing raccoons, the rabbi is sunk until he teams up with a rough bank robber (played by a very young Harrison Ford), who is too kindly (despite himself) to toss this fish-out-of-water back into the brush without help.

Playing the “damsel (read: rabbi) in distress,” Wilder is his usual wonderful self, and Ford, as beautiful and charming here as anyone ever could be, exhibits all the qualities that made him the box office hero he became. The bank robber is neither anti-Semitic, nor a brutish parody of cowboy masculinity, as so many of his celluloid brothers have been. He is uneducated, but he is not devoid of humanity. Likewise, the rabbi is a pacifist and religiously devout, but he never falls into cowardice (on the contrary, he is one of the few truly courageous images of Jewish males in American comedy) or dogmatic intolerance.

The story is simple and generally predictable (of course, the rabbi and the bank robber become best friends), and its humour does occasionally sink into the silly. (Not to say that the silliness is not effective – I found it quite impossible not to laugh right out loud at the scene in which the earnest rabbi teaches a tribe of Native Americans to dance the hora.) No one could accuse the film of high-concept laughs, and it is clearly meant to appeal to Jewish and non-Jewish audiences alike, as well as to many viewers who might not otherwise enjoy comedy-westerns.

Nevertheless, it also achieves a complexity and uniqueness amongst its cohorts. The characters are drawn with unexpected sensitivity and depth, stereotypes are never wholly relied upon, and the scenes of male bonding are poignant and believable. Violence, a common aspect of westerns, is also handled with an expert touch, and presents itself as an opportunity for heroics, but also as a seat of shame and senselessness. In its way, this film transcends the silly 70s comedy and makes it into thought provoking commentary.

With its unusually high production values, delightful klezmer-inspired score, and quick pace, The Frisco Kid is an enjoyable experience. Unfortunately, the new DVD completely underwhelms with its ugly packaging and menus, as well as with its relative lack of special features, but the film itself is a gem and worth the wait.

If you are interested in film representations of Jews, this is a key film because of its employment of stage conventions, as well as its subversion of old and tired stereotypes. However, if you are merely looking for a comedy that can entertain and amuse, played by attractive and charismatic stars, then you could also do a lot worse than this old-fashioned buddy picture with a peach of a gimmick.

Friends WIth Money.

Friends With Money (2006) is about four generally unlikeable friends and their significant others. While the title might lead one to believe that Jennifer Aniston's character, Olivia, is the protagonist, all four ladies are featured on in equal measure.

Olivia is, however, generally the focus of the three wealthy friends' concern. Olivia isn't married. Olivia is a pothead. Olivia isn't living up to her potential. This last one, at least, is a genuine concern. Olivia used to be a teacher at a posh private school, but got so fed up with how the students were condecending assholes-in-training, she quit. Now, Olivia works as a maid. I think she finds it satisfying. I don't think it was a self-mortification practice, as if cleaning up other people's homes would make her a more noble person, but she just gave up on herself and didn't find what she did at all problematic. She had enough money for rent and weed, but not high-end cosmetics, which we watch her procure 1/2 ounce by 1/2 ounce in tiny sample tubes (see picture).

Catherine Keener plays Christine, who is half of a screenwriting duo. Her writing partner is her husband. They sit accross from one another, reading dialogue to make sure it's true to their created characters. They are adding a garish storey to their home, and when the contractor tells them that the addition will not make them very popular with the neighbours because it blocks everyone's view, she shrugs and says, "I want it."

Jane, played by the infinitely watchable Frances McDormand, is a successful clothing designer. Why her friends don't recognise her obvious depression, I don't know. She was gripped by such a deep malaise, she doesn't bother to wash her hair. It just gets dirty again, she says, and her arms get tired anyway, so why bother. She is so combattant and ready to fight with anyone who she feels wrongs her, she got thrown out of a an Old Navy for belligerantly accusing a couple of butting in line. (What's more humiliating: being thrown out of an Old Navy, or an A-list designer being seen in an Old Navy?) Her husband may or may not be dating another man. The two men could just be friends, but the kind of wide-eyed excitement is that of expectant lovers, not new friends. Jane is oblivious to husband's seemingly confused sexuality, and it doesn't appear to play a role in her depression.

Joan Cusack plays the frugal Franny, the easily-manipulated wife of a wealthy businessman. She is the richest friend, and she and her husband have so much money, they can't decide who to donate it to. What a burden that must be. She introduces her trainer to Olivia. He's a cad who has a fetish for hired help, and although he follows Olivia to other people's homes and uselessly watches her clean, he insists a cut of her pay. Meanwhile, he brags about making $65 an hour as a personal trainer. She forks over his "cut" without argument.

All of the friends don't seem to be happy, but are they really unhappy? They are letting their lives be lived for them; passive passengers in their own biographies. They are living lives of well-to-do Angelinos, but seem gaunt and drawn, with their tanned skin hanging from their bones. The friends are more contented to gossip than to actually help one another. One of them wonders aloud: if we weren't already friends and met now, would we become friends now? She thought probably not. They're all in their respective ruts. Keener's character seems to be the one with the most development. She eventually feels remorse over the rude construction on the house and also begins divorce proceedings.

Was this a good movie? Umm... It wasn't a bad movie. It wasn't remarkable, but it was not unwatchable. The characters were interesting but not compelling. I don't know if I'd even recommend this as a renter (August 29th). If I weren't writing this review, I might even forget I'd seen it. Meh.

Even the Disk Sucks

I don’t really mean to be so very harsh. To tell the truth, after the initial disappointments, the new Pride and Prejudice (2005) actually started to grow on me. The pacing of the story (and the dialogue) is still far too fast, and I still worry that this version relies too much on having an audience already familiar with the story, but the look of the film is lush and lovely, and there are a few nice touches.

However, I have been less than charitable towards the thing since I have had my computer crash four times and my regular DVD player do long sessions of confused spins more times than I care to count.

I bought a copy of the new P&P at HMV, in their always-welcome 2/$30 sale, and the first copy killed my comp at the end of chapter 9. I tried again to no avail. I tried it on my entertainment system, which is usually a more rickety enterprise since the machine is about five years old now. This time it only skipped chapters 10 and 11, but no smoke rolled out.

Annoyed, I trucked back to HMV last week to get a new copy. Again, at chapter 10 it died, taking my computer with it. Today, I got yet another copy. Again, chapter 10 would not play.

I turned to the internet, which is one of the few luxuries of the modern world that I do appreciate, and found that I was not the only one with this problem. In fact, in reviews of the Canadian widescreen edition (the one with the little red maple leaf on the spine), I found that several complaints had been launched, and that many copies stopped, froze or pixilated at chapter 10, about one hour and thirteen minutes into the movie. It seems it was a factory issue, and some stores were more than cranky over granting refunds, forcing some customers to try copy after copy until some just gave up.

I can understand those who gave up. Part of me wanted to not bother with this. Chapter 10 is only three minutes long, and features the famous “Darcy’s Post-Rejection Letter” scene. I told myself, “You know what happens here. Just settle.” However, I saw Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) too many times as a child, and I decided to take HMV on. So, I left the house again ranting about “Demanding satisfaction,” a la Alexander Pushkin or something.

HMV, if you’ll remember, firmed up its returns and refunds policies about four years ago in response to DVD/CD burning technology, and declared that exchanges could only take place on unopened items. In the case of flaw, DVDs could only be exchanged for new copies of the same DVD.

Seeing that this was a factory flaw, and that the local HMV does not carry the American version (which apparently is trouble-free), I was unwilling to accept anything else but a refund or a totally different movie. I may only be a humble student, but I still do not have the time to waste trying copy after copy, and running back and forth to HMV, where they seemed to be sure I was running some kind of scam on them.

Well, it turns out that the wonderful, fabulous, lovely and kind store manager (always ask to see a manager when one seeks satisfaction) was well aware that the first print of this DVD from March had this issue. I was told that Universal claims to have fixed the problem and that the new batches are fine, but this was certainly not the case here.

So, if you see a store burning off batches of the new Pride and Prejudice, Canadian edition, you’re probably better off saving your money. (Actually, you may be better off saving your money even if copies of the so-so melodrama are fine.)

In case you’re wondering about what I got in exchange, I selected Hitchcock’s Lifeboat (1944), which I should have gotten in the first place.

Lesson learned.