Whatever Will I Wear?

In today's Night & Day section, you'll find my preview of the La Jolla Fashion Film Festival, taking place this Friday and Saturday. While the event is centered around two nights of short films screened at the Museum of Contemporary Art La Jolla, the gathering itself is all about the fashionistas it hopes to draw.

My interest in fashion falls under two essential categories -- comfort and cost. And my wardrobe reflects that. So the thought of actually attending the festival didn't even cross my mind. That is, until the festival's director, Fred Sweet, simply insisted that I find something funky to throw on and be a part of the festivities. What can I say? He's very convincing.

But I wasn't going to go without some support, so I reached out to my two fashionable friends (at least they are compared to me) and invited each to be my plus one for the festival's two night run. If they can't help to elevate my look, then at the very least I'll be with people who looks like they belong there.

Meanwhile, I'll be enjoying the scenery as I'm sure there will be plenty of quality people watching. Isn't that what fashion is all about -- getting people to look at you?

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Celebrity Crush: Chris Evans as Captain America

Here's what I didn't say in my 3-star review of "Captain America: The First Avenger."

Hubba-hubba.

I know. It's a dorky, old-fashioned way to ogle a member of the opposite sex (or same sex, if that works better for you). But it seems entirely appropriate for a movie that takes place in an era when words like "dame" and "gams" are being thrown about.

It's also a reflection of how articulate I felt when I first saw Chris Evans emerge from the experimental sarcophagus as Captain America. OK, OK, he's shirtless in the scene, which is entirely designed to make the women in the audience (and in the scene) swoon, and the men re-up their gym memberships.

But as the film marches on and Evans remains clothed and presumably virginal, he only gets more breathtaking. Or maybe I just like a man in uniform (not the one that involves tights, though he carries that off pretty well too).

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"Ghost World" 10th Anniversary Screening (God, we're all old)

It wasn't that long ago that the San Diego Film Critics Society (proud member here) began talking about putting together a 10th anniversary screening of the movie "Ghost World" during Comic-Con.

At first I thought the idea was preposterous. Not because it seemed impossible that we could pull it off so quickly--and during the craziest week that San Diego sees all year (although that did cross my mind). But because it seemed simply out of the question that this fantastic little movie could possibly be a decade old.

But it's true. We pulled off the screening (it's this Saturday night) AND we got Thora Birch to show up in person!

Unfortunately, it's also true that we're ten years older. But at least we can take some comfort in knowing that Scarlett Johansson has inched that much closer to 30 (only 3+ years to go!) -- and her boyfriends have crossed the half-century mark.  
But Thora Birch hasn't aged a day. And of course I'm not saying that just because she agreed to attend our 35mm screening of the Terry Zwigoff-directed film this Saturday night.

Thora Birch with her award at SDFCS' banquet in 2002.
(Terry Zwigoff and Daniel Clowes also attended.)

If you've seen this highly quotable movie, which was based on Daniel Clowes' comic book, then it's probably time you saw it again and rejoiced in its originality (still far too rare an occurrence, especially in the context of Comic-Con).

If you haven't seen it, then it's about damn time. There's a reason SDFCS showered it with awards in 2001, including Best Director (Zwigoff), Best Adapted Screenplay (Zwigoff and Clowes) and Best Actress (Birch).

Even if you're not a Comi-Con passholder or a comic book geek (of which I am neither), you're guaranteed to love the movie, or no money back (hey, it's only $5).

"Ghost World" 10th Anniversary Screening, with Thora Birch in Person!

Presented by the San Diego Film Critics Society
in conjunction with Reading Cinemas & Fantagraphics Books

Saturday, July 23 @ 9pm

Reading Gaslamp Cinemas

701 Fifth Avenue, Downtown San Diego

Only $5 - Buy tickets here

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Time Traveling with Larry Sanders

I moved a few weeks ago and have been unpacking bit by bit, taking time to think through how my life's going to flow in this new space --  my workspace, media set-up, acquiring of grown-up furniture, pet management and setting up a kitchen that I promised myself I'd actually use this time.

While I putz around the apartment moving things here and there, I play something from Netflix Instant on my computer-- usually a TV show that's light, doesn't require focused attention and offers a big chunk of continuous episodes, since this seems to be taking forever. I settled on The Larry Sanders Show.

I was in college when Larry Sanders was on HBO and, while I heard plenty of praise for the series about a fictional late night talk show, I was too busy and too broke to watch cable TV. If you're familiar with the show, then you can imagine how much fun I'm having watching it for the first time -- in five-hour chunks no less. It's not only helped pass the time, it's helped lift me out of the post-break-up blues on more than one occasion.

But I think I'm getting more out of the Larry Sanders in 2011 than I would've in 1992. Namely, nostalgia. Though the show itself is timeless (until the dinosaur late night talk show format becomes extinct, anyway), the references aren't: jokes about a philandering Bill Clinton, celebrity guests like Richard Simmons, Mimi Rogers, John Forsythe, Dana Delaney, a pipsqueak David Spade, my hero Carol Burnett, a scrappy, dearly departed Peter Falk. Plus the "up-and-coming" show regulars like a goth Janeane Garfalo and a perennially douche-baggy Jeremy Piven (but in a good way). And let's not forget the fashion, which looks more 80s than what I choose to remember.

It's so authentic, I almost feel 20 again while I'm watching it. But maybe that's just because I still can't afford cable.

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Kiddie Flicks

As a freelance critic with a full-time day job, I only have time to review one or two movies per week. So when it's time to choose what I'm going to review for the month, I tend to skim over those titles that are geared specifically to kids, while silently pitying the parents who have to accompany their offspring to what I can only imagine is a semi-torturous two-hour babysitting session.

It's not the kids themselves that bother me. In fact, I usually get a little tearful when I see kids having a genuine reaction to what they're seeing onscreen. My real problem is the cranky old lady who's lived inside me since I was a kid myself. I simply don't have patience for the inanity of the onscreen antics cobbled together to cater to short attention spans: fart jokes, bonks on heads, corny kindergarten-level life lessons, etc.

These kinds of movies are easily avoidable for a "civilian" without kids. But for a film critic, it isn't always so easy. Still, I'm a professional and capable of applying my critical skills to a film of any type, right? Sure, but it seems unfair to apply my perspective--one that is severely lacking in little kid input--to a movie that has no intention of pleasing an audience member like me. I have no clue what little kids like. What might scare them. Or what a parent might find unacceptable. What could I possibly add to what a gazillion mommy bloggers and "pro-family" movie review sites already do so effectively?

When I try to tap into my own preferences as a child, I go straight to Mary Poppins, Sound of Music, Annie and the Muppet movies (yes, I'm pumped for Jason Segal's Muppet reboot in November) -- all classics that most adults would enjoy on their own. But you would never have caught me at a "My Little Pony" kind of flick back then. And certainly not today.

But I have no problem getting excited about and reviewing movies geared for kids and adults. You know, a Pixar movie. So I happily included "Cars 2" on my review list for June, and even signed on for an interview with one of the film's directing animators, a San Diego native with a darn cool success story.

I'm not gonna lie, I was expecting greatness. How could I not after the phenomenal run Pixar's had over the last 15 years, culminating in one of the best films of 2010, "Toy Story 3" (my original review here).

Unfortunately, what "Cars 2" delivered was strictly for kids. True, its animation was top notch, but the goofy antics took center stage over story and character. And the character they chose to focus on, Mater, drove me up the wall. Yes, it's true. The Pixar streak (at least for grown-ups) is over.

You can read my "Cars 2" review here and my interview with Pixar animator Victor Navone here.

If you do end up taking your little ones to see it, do me a favor and tell me what THEY thought (and what you thought as well). Consider it field research as a favor. Or dump the kids at the cineplex and rush over to Landmark Hillcrest to catch "Buck," "Midnight in Paris," or even the quirky "Submarine" (my review here). Don't worry, I won't tell.

Whatever you do, enjoy your weekend.

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My man "Buck"

I've always said that if I didn't have kids, I would get a horse. The reaction I get to this statement is usually a laugh, like I'm joking, or just an expression of polite confusion followed by a change of subject. But as the new documentary "Buck" (opening Friday at Landmark Hillcrest) recently reminded me, the relationship between human and horse is no joke.

OK, maybe it's not the same as hearing your pudgy baby say her first words, but it can be a meaningful --- sometimes life-saving---bond for human and creature alike. At least for people like me and, of course, for horse training guru Buck Brannaman.

Growing up, I was never one of those over-the-top "horse girls." No horsey clothing in my closet or pony posters on my wall. But I had a few friends like that and knowing them gave me the chance to interact with horses more than once a year at camp. I spent one summer shoveling manure at some local stables in exchange for free riding lessons (English, blech). And when I moved to New York City for college, I often took little field trips to Central Park South just so I could pet the carriage horses and spend the rest of the afternoon smelling their dusty odor on my hands -- and loving every whiff.

But what topped it all was the brief but blissful six months in middle school when I co-owned a horse with my best friend. Perhaps I've romanticized it a little, but my memories of rushing to the stables after school, throwing a pad on Tess' back, and galloping through the nearby field was the closest thing to total freedom and pure joy I could ever imagine.

Yet, I could never really articulate to people why I would be OK with a horse as my Plan B. I haven't had contact with one in any meaningful way in over a decade and, if you look at my life today,  you'd think I was more capable of becoming a crazy dog lady than a horse fanatic. So what makes me so sure that horse ownership would satisfy me on such a deep level?

Twenty minutes into "Buck" and, for the first time in my life, I truly understood. Horses help you to see--and maybe even heal--yourself. They're majestic, intelligent creatures. They're also instinctively fearful and, if that fear is allowed to fester, can become dangerous.

In Buck's case, he lost his mother as a boy and suffered extreme physical abuse at the hand of his father. As a young man, he was crippled with fear, unable to trust and terrified to interact with others. When he got in a ring with an unbroken horse, he immediately recognized and remembered that instinct to flinch, defend, run.

This understanding is what makes Buck the legendary "horse whisperer" that he is (yes, he was an advisor on the Robert Redford film). He's not training them, he's teaching them to trust. This method doesn't require a whip, but an energy, a stance, maybe a flick of the wrist. In a sense, he is re-parenting himself in each exchange. Whatever it is he's doing it worked, because Buck Brannaman appears to be the most peaceful, accepting, well-adjusted man I've ever come across.

He's also married (darn) and a giving father to his teenage daughter who, of course, adores and respects him. And they live in Montana (CORRECTION: they live in Wyoming, but much of the film takes place in Montana), a state I have never been to but, after seeing this breathtakingly picturesque film, I plan on visiting as soon as possible. (I watched the film on DVD but plan to see it again on the big screen, and you should too.) When I get there, it will take every ounce of restraint not to show up at his front door and beg him to marry me. Or adopt me. Whatever he prefers.

While I certainly didn't have a childhood as traumatic as Buck's, I faced unique challenges in my youth that made life rather unpredictable and sometimes scary. As I grew up, my generalized fear displayed itself as nervous, defensive energy -- a quality shared by just about every horse Buck works with in the film. I've known this about myself for awhile, but it wasn't until I experienced this film that I really understood why I'm so drawn to horses, and why I could accept caring for one as a second-best alternative to having my own family.

First-time director Cindy Meehl's documentary follows Buck on his grueling travels across the country, leading what feel like self-help seminars for human and horse. He also attracts crowds who pay good money just for the chance to see his graceful method in action. His students speak of him as if he's the Dalai Lama and, by the time the film came to a close, I felt the same way.

Don't worry, I'm not going to spend my life savings on a horse anytime soon -- I still haven't entirely given up on the baby/husband thing. While I try to figure that out, my relationship with my dog -- a Mexico rescue with plenty of baggage herself -- will have to suffice. While I'm no dog whisperer,  at this point I can pretty much lead her without more than a subtle request. If only I could saddle her up.

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Legends on the Line: Interview with J.J. Abrams and Review of "Super 8"

You know you're having a strange Sunday morning when your telephone conversation with J.J. Abrams about working with Steven Spielberg is interrupted by a call from Spielberg himself. Lucky for me, Abrams took the call while leaving me on the line, able to hear at least one side of their conversation.



It wasn't anything juicy; mostly about how things were going during the lead-up to the release of the Abrams' new film "Super 8," produced by Spielberg and very much in the style that made him a filmmaking icon.

But the distinctive shift in Abrams' demeanor -- from subdued, serious director to overeager, young filmmaker practically jumping out of his skin when his childhood idol called to say hi -- was all I needed to get just how sincere Abrams is in his tribute to Spielberg throughout "Super 8." It was also pretty damn cool for a nosy girl like me.

Read more of my interview with J.J. Abrams and also my review of "Super 8."

I'm moving this weekend so I'll be taking next week off. But if you need another recommendation to tide you over til then, I enthusiastically point you to Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris." Simply delightful --especially for nostalgia whores like me.

If you are a Terrence Malick fan, you probably already have plans to see "Tree of Life," out this weekend in San Diego. While I was intrigued by its visual poetry, I couldn't help but think that the film thinks it's deeper than it actually is. But with a filmmaker like Malick, who takes years to assemble his thoughtful work, I absolutely owe it a second viewing. Especially after the treat of seeing his 1978 masterpiece "Days of Heaven" on the big screen for the first time last weekend (thanks Reading Cinemas and KPBS' Beth Accomando for making that happen!). I could've watched that movie for days.

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