Film Review: The Help (2011)

“I Hear That Movie’s Racist...”

By Jordan Overstreet
Published: September 20, 2011

For those of us seeking a movie with substance, the summer can be a season of disappointment. During these poolside months of adolescent liberation, filmmakers flood the market with slutty rom-coms, superhero sagas, and sorry sequels to last summer’s blockbusters. They cinematically distort the image on screen, focusing not on the narrative but on the special effects, hoping to impress us with high speed car chases, alien encounters, and, always popular, scenes in which “they blow shit up.”

Floating in this season of rift-raft is “The Help.” A big screen adaptation of Kathryn Stockett’s novel of the same name, the film has become the topic of much discussion since its August 10th premiere - and not because of dynamic performances given by Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer - but due to the concern that “The Help” is a racist motion picture.

From Tumblr and Twitter to the Arts section of the New York Times, it seems everyone has an opinion about the Tate Taylor film and it’s exploration of the relationship, or lack there of, between African American maids and their white employers in 1963 Mississippi. Valerie Boyd, a journalism professor and noted Zora Neale Hurston biographer, called the period piece “a feel-good movie for a cowardly nation.” Film critic, Nelson George used the New York Times as a soap box, chastising the filmmakers for failing to adequately “come to terms” with America’s racial history.

To call “The Help” a racist film is to deny the fact that the film is honest. This is a period piece and the main function of this type of motion picture is to authentically recreate the past, allowing the audience to time travel back to a particular bygone era. In the case of “The Help,” Mr. Taylor, who also wrote the screenplay, is successful in his endeavor. While he spends far too much time showing us shots of vintage Cadillacs and A-line dresses, Mr. Taylor does accurately portray the dynamic and racial tensions between African American maids and their white female employers. The accuracy of these portrayals is proven by audience response and the discomfort we feel when, for example, the Queen Bee of prejudice, Hilly Holbrook (Bryce Dallas Howard) refuses to let her maid, Minny Jackson (Octavia Spencer), use the inside restroom during a thunderstorm and when Minny does use the inside bathroom, Hilly fires her instantly. Sure, the white characters in the film are racist, but they’re supposed to be. To not depict these prejudices, as uncomfortable to watch as they are, would be an inaccurate presentation of a very volatile time in American history.

Granted, “The Help” is a safe film about the days of Jim Crow. Mr. Taylor purposely keeps us in the domestic arena, only giving us a few glances out the window into the reality of the civil rights movement. He contains his audience not to trivialize or down play African American activism, but rather to focus on what the film is essentially about: the relationships between African American maids their white female employers. By centering his film on such a specific aspect of this turbulent time, there is no way Mr. Taylor can “come to terms” with the broad scope of America’s racial past.

Similarly, Mr. Taylor consciously creates an ensemble piece in “The Help.” While many see the characters of Aibileen Clark (Viola Davis) and Skeeter Phelan (Emma Stone) as the leads, Mr. Taylor never decides which of the two women is the protagonist of the film, leaving each individual audience member to choose. This confusion as to whose story it is gets right to the crux of the critical debate because who we select, be it Ailbileen or Skeeter, affects how we read and respond to the film. If you choose Skeeter as the protagonist, as the Association of Black Women Historians, seems to do, then the film is about her coming of age story and how she matured. If you choose Ailbileen as the protagonist, then the film is about her association with Skeeter and how voicing her opinion ultimately sets her free.

Recall, Skeeter is a liberal Ole Miss grad hoping to pursue a career in journalism, who returns to her hometown of Jackson with a new, more mature, set of eyes (College will do that to you) and begins to see injustices in her community. Her childhood friends, especially Hilly have grown into versions of their parents, inheriting their fathers’ of racial prejudices and their mothers’ cruel tongue. Hoping to rewrite the wrongs of the previous generation and expose this injustice, Skeeter wants to give the African American maids a voice by writing a book of their experience and she enlists the help of Ailbileen to do so. While she is initially hesitant, Ailbileen joins the project, providing Skeeter with a line of communication into the African American domestic working community. The book is eventually published and the success of the novel lands Skeeter a job in New York. Reluctant to leave, Skeeter is ultimately convinced by Ailbileen to take the job. For her contribution, Ailbileen receives the praise and appreciation from the African American community; however, her employer recognizes her testimony and fires Ailbileen. As she walks out of the white neighborhood, Ailbileen finds comfort in her freedom and hopes to also become a writer.

The Association of Black Women Historians finds particular concern in the character of Ailbileen, specifically in her speech and testimony, calling her “a disappointing resurrection of the Mammy.” Beautifully acted by an Oscar-worthy Ms. Davis, Ailbileen says more—far more—than the Mammy characters of the 1930’s and 1940’s. In “Gone with the Wind,” Hattie McDaniel never gets to say anything more than “yes,” “no,” and the occasional quip whispered under her breath. Mr. Taylor gives Ailbileen so much more freedom of speech, stripping the “Mammy” character or its stereotype and making more three-dimensional presentation of a domestic worker. While Ms. Davis uses the black dialect in her characterization of Ailbileen, the ABWH’s complaint that her accent is “over-exaggerated” and “child-like” seems valid; nevertheless, Ms. Davis’ performance speaks far louder than her dialect.

Although “The Help” does not tackle anything new, the film does capture Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer in the roles’ of their careers. If you choose to take a ride on this summer’s melodramic merry-go-round, make sure to pack some Kleenex. And when things get uncomfortable, just remember that this is only a piece of fiction.

Film Review: Main Street (2011)

“The Road Less Traveled: The In Home Movie Experience”

By Jordan Overstreet
Published: September 26, 2011

Whether you’re ready or not, the way we view motion pictures is changing. Unless you are a film student, an NBA star with a theatre in the basement, or a barnacle when it comes to change, the days of dinner and a movie are over. With Netflix, Amazon On Demand, Vudu, Hulu, and the classic cable On Demand library, screening movies at home is merely a click of the television remote or the computer mouse away.

In this trend to make content easily accessible to the consumer, many distributors are now incorporating an On Demand release into a movie’s distribution cycle, meaning that a given film would be released to the On Demand library the same day as it hits the stores in DVD form. Recently, in hopes to increase box-office revenue, some distributors have even gone so far as to release a movie to these cable companies before the title is even is listed on the marquee of a mega-plex.

Last Sunday, as my Friday morning hangover finally caught up with me, I took the road less traveled and explored the On Demand catalogue on my television. Hidden among the recent summer blockbusters and Steve Gutenberg dramas I found a familiar title: “Main Street.” I originally saw the movie in a market screening at the 63rd annual Festival de Cannes, so I was surprised to see it banished to what I consider to be the underworld of cinema. Whether it was pity or the just fact that nothing else was on, we will never know; nonetheless, I revisited the John Doyle film.

“Main Street” much like Jodi Markell’s 2010 venture, “A Loss of A Teardrop Diamond” is a posthumous work from a great playwright, Horton Foote. Foote, best known for “Tender Mercies,” “A Trip to Bountiful,” and recently Dividing the Estate, is very much in his element in this Southern melodrama, which follows the intersecting lives of various members of the dying Durham, North Carolina community. The film begins with a montage of black and white images of the once vibrant empire of the North Carolina tobacco industry. Doyle juxtaposes this with the present state of the town by returning to color and taking a trip down a desolate and empty main street.

The past continues to haunt the present as we are introduced to Georgiana Carr (Ellen Burstyn), the aging daughter of a tobacco millionaire, as she recants Durham’s “Golden Age” to a prospective realtor. Through a low, wide-angle shot, Doyle captures Georgiana sitting on the porch of her spacious white estate, which is reminiscent of a modern-day version of Blanche Dubois’ Belle Rive, in downtown Durham. Like the wrinkled Georgiana, the house too shows signs of aging--chipped paint, cobwebs. Doyle then pulls away to reveal a small compact car made in the 1990’s, suggesting Georgiana’s world is outmoded and she, herself, becomes an emblem of Durham’s decay.

As the city council meets to discuss ways to bring in new business, their only hope is the youth of Durham; however, that generation is incapable of reviving the town, considering many have moved away to pursue their own dreams. Moreover, the two youthful perspectives Foote gives us—Harris Parker (Orlando Bloom) and Mary Saunders (Amber Tamblyn)—are stagnant characters, trapped in their parents’ world with no signs of leaving anytime soon.

Enter Gus Leroy (Colin Firth), a Texan entrepreneur with an entourage—3 sterile white trucks filled with canisters of hazardous waste. Sporting an electric blue button down and black suede cowboy boots (very deus ex machina, no?), Leroy, who Georgianna’s new tenant in her downtown warehouse, saunters into town with a plan for rebirth: hazardous waste storage and management. Although Leroy’s presence in Durham ambiguous—is it a mere coincidence or divine intervention—he becomes, nevertheless, the city’s saving grace.

Firth, fresh off his Academy award win, is out of place in “Main Street.” His Southern drawl leaves his voice weak and disproportionate to the power his character represents. His speech is so withered that he seems to whisper his lines of dialogue, letting them crawl across the screen until they ultimately putter out and die.

While the premise of the film is an interesting and relevant one, the actual depiction of Foote’s idea falls flat at the hands of John Doyle, whose Broadway roots will not help him with his placement of the movie camera. However, it is fun to see the familiar faces of Ms. Burstyn, Mr. Firth, and Patricia Clarkson all in the same cinematic vehicle. For Horton Foote fans, this is a must see; for the rest of us, “Main Street” is a hopeful omen that there are still a few more dinner and movie dates to be had.

Remembering Elizabeth Taylor (1932-2011)

"Exit the Queen"

By: Jordan Overstreet
Published: April 4, 2011

“What can you say about a legend?” mused Paul Newman in a 2007 tribute to Elizabeth Taylor, who past away on March 23 from congestive heart failure. "So much has been written, so much has already been said for so many years about Elizabeth Taylor. Is there anything left to say?"

Well, I think there is, especially for those of you who are not familiar with the two-time Academy award-winning actress; but, like Newman, I’m not going to focus Ms. Taylor’s beauty. Simply enter her name into a Google image search and you will discover her unforgettable features—those violet-eyes and raven hair. What I do want discuss is Ms. Taylor’s legacy, what she brought to the screen and why many consider her passing to signify the death of era.

In a world of flickering lights and images, Elizabeth Taylor was a true star. Audiences were formally introduced to a 12-year-old Elizabeth in “National Velvet” (1942) and this meet-cute spawned a seven-decade long romance between fan and actress. She grew up on the screen, gracefully avoiding the awkward middle school ages, and we watched as she blossomed into a young woman in “A Place in the Sun” (1951) and later a leading lady in “Cleopatra” (1963).

Incidents in Ms. Taylor’s personal life, such as her eight marriages or infamous weight gain in the late 1970’s, had always seemed to imitate her art form. Due to her lack of theatrical training, her home studio, Metro Goldwyn Mayer, was careful to cast her only in films where her own life, or elements of it, was similar to that of the fictional heroine in the given motion picture. In fact her first marriage to hotelier Conrad “Nicky” Hilton, Jr. was arranged by MGM as a publicity stunt to promote her recent film “Father of the Bride.”

The lines between reality and fiction would continue to blur through the 1950’s as Ms. Taylor embarked on a romance a very attractive and very-married crooner, Eddie Fisher, who just happened to be the husband of her closest friend’s, Debbie Reynolds. (To simplify, think of Taylor as Angelina Jolie, Fisher as Brad Pitt, and Debbie as Jennifer Anniston). With the press coloring her behavior as wanton and immoral, Ms. Taylor’s onscreen persona seemed to mirror this, specifically in “BUtterfield 8” in which she plays an escort for hire.

Nonetheless, during the filming of “Cleopatra,” this fourth wall would ultimately be smashed to pieces when Liz met Dick. Ms. Taylor had found her match in a Welsh actor, Richard Burton, and much like that of Cleopatra and Marc Antony, was anything but swift and peaceful, considering both she and Burton where married to other people at the time. Spanning fourteen years, the tempestuous relationship between the two and is considered to be the most epic love story in Hollywood history: 11 feature films, the jewelry, the yachts, the booze, and a condemnation from the Vatican.

Playing lovers on the on screen appeared no different from being the Burtons in real life. When viewing “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” (1966) you wonder if Ms. Taylor and Burton every play these vicious games that their characters play. Are they actually George and Martha when the cameras stop rolling?

By blurring the lines between reality and fiction, Ms. Taylor removed the protection of the fourth wall and allows her spectator to connect with her. Thus, audiences were no longer alone in the dark with the characters on screen. They were alone with Elizabeth Taylor.

In an environment where the average career span is fifteen minuets, Elizabeth Taylor was a rare breed of celebrity. For over 70 years she managed to draw and captivate an international audience by sharing with them her most vulnerable side. She is the true definition of a movie star, giving so much of herself to both her fans and her various causes, specifically the fight against AIDS, for so little in return. If nothing else, there is applause and Elizabeth Taylor is most deserving of our appreciation.

Top Ten Must-See Elizabeth Taylor Films
1. “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” (1966)
2. “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” (1958)
3. “A Place in the Sun” (1951)
4. “Suddenly Last Summer” (1959)
5. "BUtterfield 8" (1960)
6. “The Sandpiper” (1965)
7. "The Taming of the Shrew" (1967)
8. "Father of the Bride" (1950)
9. "X,Y, and Zee" (1972)
10. "Raintree County" (1957)

For further reading about Ms. Taylor check out Sam Kashner and Nancy Schoenberger's book "Furious Love: Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, and the Marriage of the Century" as well as Alexander Walker's "Elizabeth: The Life of Elizabeth Taylor"

Theatre Review: Hecuba (2011)

"Hecuba is Mad Againe"

By Jordan Overstreet

While many consider Anson Mount to be the most notable alumnus from the Theatre Sewanee program, it appears a woman has entered the theatrical wrestling ring and may possess the power to uproot Britney Spears’ leading man from his throne. This tour-de-force is Tarashai Lee, who triumphs as Hecuba in Theatre Sewanee’s recent production of Euripides’ classic tragedy.

Shedding her “Flavor of Love 2” television persona, Miss Lee adopts the trappings of a Trojan slave woman caught in a masculine chess game of violence where women are merely sacrificial pawns. While once the Queen of Troy, Hecuba’s majesty is nowhere to be found on the stage: she is dressed in rags, the set—minimal in its elements—has been stripped of regality by Grecian invaders, and the only possessions of value left to Hecuba are here children, Polydorus (Oliver Crawford) and Polyxena (Rebekah Hildebrant). As she loses both of her children over the course of the play, Miss Lee expertly channels the both grieving mother, embodying ever aspect of grief be it hysterical tears of cries of anguish, and the femme fatale, cleverly avenging her son’s death by puppeteering her male counterparts into submission.

But the power of Miss Lee’s performance is in her ability to completely transform into Hecuba down to her fingertips. When she cries, her face actually swells from the constant outpour of tears; when she lets out crescendos of grief, her shrieks are so natural that they become disturbing to witness; when she is forced to listen to the greedy soliloquies of Agamemnon (Anthony Caskey) or the King of Thrace (Buckner Hinkle), she listens like Hecuba, fully remaining in her character.

Consequently, when juxtaposed with Miss Lee, the abilities current Sewanee students involved in the production get diminished; they cannot eclipse her talent. However, Miss Lee does find equal scene partners in seniors, Tory Nettleton and Mr. Hinkle. Miss Nettleton, last seen as Kate in “Dancing at Lughnasa,” brings a mature, worldly reading to her role as the Chorus Leader, surpassing her choral companions in emotional depth and range.

Mr. Hinkle proves to be a match for Miss Lee. Identifying the King of Thrace as her son’s murderer, Hecuba lures the glutton to his doom with whispers of riches. As Miss Lee channels a siren as she sings these false prophecies into Mr. Hinkle’s ear and he slyly lies about her son’s whereabouts, the two fall into a duplicitous dance that ultimately leads Thrace to blindness. It is marriage of talents and their scenes together are the highlight of the play.

“Hecuba” from its first lines demands your focus. Director David Landon aesthetically layers the performance with fresh dialogue penned by Brown Foundation Fellow Poet-in-Residence, Marilyn Nelson, engaging visuals details, and an intriguing musical score by James Carlson; yet, despite being a true collaboration of the Sewanee community, “Hecuba” remains Tarashai Lee’s vehicle. Miss Lee’s honing of her skills since graduating in 2000 is further evidence of Sewanee’s capabilities as an institution; her divine performance is comforting and inspiring reminder that we, as a University, must be doing something right.

Film Review: Blue Valentine (2011)

"The Ballad of Love and Hate"

By Jordan Overstreet
Published: February 14, 2011

Its that time of year again when distributors flood the movie market with an endless supply of romantic motion pictures in hopes of capitalizing on February’s Hallmark holiday. These movies (note they are not films) share the same archetypal plot line: boy meets Katherine Heigel, they use each other for sex, and, forty five minuets later, boy and girl are in a exclusive relationship.

Great. Brilliant. But where’s the drama?

While lonely, sexually unsatisfied, and potentially cat owning women may buy into this formula, the rest of us pray to the movie gods for an honest depiction of a real relationship on screen. Ordained for this challenge, is art-house director Derek Cinefrance, whose new film, “Blue Valentine,” radiates like the Hope diamond atop black velvet in this pawnshop of romantic trifles.

Dancing on the line between love and hate, Cinefrance invites us to take a ride on the marital rollercoaster that is the union of Dean and Cindy (Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams). As the two continue to fall in and out of love, Cinefrance captures this buoyancy by weaving together the present narrative with past memories of happier times. Cinefrance juxtaposes times of peril with remembrances of joyous occasions, further blurring the line between love and hate.

Cinefrance first introduces us to the couple by illustrating their morning routine. As Dean (Ryan Gosling) polishes off what is to be the first of many beers, he surveys his backyard, only to find the family pet missing and the gate to her doghouse ajar. He examines the gate and with every fumble of the steel latch, his anger rises—someone forgot to close the gate—and we see Dean point the finger of blame to another. However, the arrival of his young daughter, Frankie (Faith Wladyka), forces Dean to mask his anger without expressing it—a tendency that will continue to undermine his communication with Cindy—and move on for his child’s expense.

The relationship between Dean and Frankie is one of playmates (they suck up cheerios off the breakfast table and eat eggs with their hands); and when Cindy enters the picture, she must be the serious parent and polices both Dean and Frankie’s behavior, proving that “three is a crowd.” In these first few minutes of the film, we recognize the problematic dynamic between the two: Dean and Cindy are no longer equals.

So what happened to push them to this breaking point?

Unfortunately, Cinefrance does not write a middle, but rather he relies on his comparison of the younger versions of Dean and Cindy with their present personas to answer this question. Dean first appears as a stark contrast to the deadbeat men in Cindy’s life. Unlike her father and previous boyfriend, Dean is completely devoted to Cindy and is willing to do anything for her love. However, these qualities that first attracted Cindy to him have now become the source of her disdain six years later. She desperately wants Dean to exercise his potential by finding a new occupation other than profession PBR drinker, yet all Dean aspires to be is a good husband to Cindy and a good father to Frankie. Once her rescuer, Dean he has now become her destroyer, and despite her best attempts to prevent it, the anger and resentment that imprisoned Cindy’s parents in a loveless marriage has now infected her home.

However, this notion that Dean, in someway, wronged Cindy is not well articulated and is actually undermined by Gosling’s presence. Cinefrance gives us both too little and too much information about Dean. His run-down, stagnant older self does not seem to stem from the idealistic youth Cindy first fell in love with; yet, this is not a flaw of Gosling’s method but rather a critique of Cinefrance’s dialogue. Cindy says too much while Dean says far too little.

Take for example when Dean is later accused of being a violent alcoholic by Cindy’s coworker. It is never articulated to the audience that he has a problem with alcohol; while he does consume his fair share of booze, Dean isn’t having a case race with himself. The coworker’s claim holds no logical merit, for Gosling power on screen tends to make you side with him, in spite of the tremendous performance that Williams gives. Cinefrance’s tendency to litter the film with multiple testimonies from various bystanders to Dean and Cindy’s relationship in no way helps to explain the issues at play; they merely interrupt the action and provide further obstacles for them to work out.

While I have no doubt that “Blue Valentine” will garner a youth following, it seems odd that such a film will speak to the Facebook generation. Unlike “The Graduate” or “Rebel Without a Cause,” which both constantly defy the notion that one will become one’s parents, “Blue Valentine” seems to conform to this fear. The end of Dean and Cindy is upsetting, yet the implication that we, too, will fail is far more devastating.


“Blue Valentine.”

Running time: 1 hour and 54 minutes. Rated R for strong graphic sexual content, language, and a beating. Now playing at Regal Green Hills 16 in Nashville.

Theatre Review: Dancing at Lughnasa (2010)

"Dancing for Attention"

By Jordan Overstreet
Published: December 6, 2010

Theatre Sewanee’s recent production of “Dancing At Lughnasa” reminds you of that first Thanksgiving dinner at the adult table. Irish playwright Brian Friel, like your well-meaning mother, believes you will benefit from this time with your elders. At first you are thankful for the promotion, but once you are seated amongst a familiar collection of relics from the early 20th century with their constant overlapping chatter and never-ending punch lines that are foreign to your contemporary ear, you soon wish for a one-way ticket back the to kids’ corner.

The two and a half hour memory play is void of witticisms and bathroom humor necessary to hold the attention of a college audience. Instead Friel relies on the convention of storytelling as a means to reel us in. Enter Michael Evans (Michael Caskey), the narrator of our tale and illegitimate son of Christina Mundy (Genevieve Melcher), who recalls the summer of 1936 in Ireland and introduces us to the five women who raised him.

The Mundy family, consisting of five unmarried sisters, is headed by the eldest, Kate (Tori Nettleton), in the absence of their brother Jack; however, Kate’s rule is threatened by the homecoming of a Malaria infected Jack from Uganda. As a man of the cloth, Jack was once popular in the community, yet since his return he seems to have abandoned his Catholic leanings and, as Kate puts it, “gone native.” While Jack’s apparent defrocking stains the family reputation, this event is not the only dilemma of the summer of 1936. The summer also brings Michael’s father, Gerry Evans (Jordan Craig) and the construction of a knitwear factory, which threatens to destroy the hand knitted glove industry, the only source of income fore Agnes and Rosie Mundy (Katherine Izard and Rebekah Hildebrandt). Michael attempts to string together these unrelated memories of that fateful summer, suggesting this series of events will ultimately change the Mundy family dynamic forever.

“Dancing At Lughnasa” will make you realize how clever Beth Henley’s “Crimes of the Heart,” performed last fall, is. While both plays explore similar themes, including the familial bonds between sisters, and set the dramatic action in the kitchen, Henley maintains a stronger grasp on the differing personalities of her female characters, and, most importantly, she allows the audience to function as a character. By inviting us to take part in the action, be it sharing an inside joke with a character or witnessing a moment of desperation between two lovers, we develop a relationship with the personas we see on stage. We want to know who these people are and what they are going to do next.

Friel does not do us the same courtesy; rather he overpopulates his kitchen with five female characters, leaving the audience isolated and unable to find a seat at the dinner table. The Mundy sisters begin the play speaking their lines on top of one another and never seem to break this habit. We want to understand who these women are, but Friel does not let us get too close. While he makes sure to give Kate, who is expertly portrayed by Miss Middleton, her defining moment, he seems to have forgotten the other four sisters; thus making it difficult for these well-rehearsed actresses to translate their individual character’s motivations to the audience.

Take for example the flight of Agnes at the end of the play. While Miss Izard does her best to illustrate Agnes’ unhappiness in the Mundy home during the first act of the play, Friel only gives her three minutes of dialogue to articulate her feelings; and when it is later revealed that she leaves the family, her departure feels out of character and not believable.

The set, while beautifully decorated by Samantha Gribben, seems to further ostracize the audience from the action on stage. Taking up the majority of the stage, the Mundy kitchen commands our focus. The majority of the first act, which seems to last an eternity, is spent in the kitchen of the Mundy home. Because Friel does not include any scene changes or entrances of new characters in a timely manner, the audience loses its focus. The only break we have from the estrogen-charged atmosphere is the arrival of Gerry Evans.

From the moment Gerry gallivants across the Mundy garden, he demands our attention. With the help of fluid blocking from Pete Smith and colorful stories from Friel, Gerry charms both Christina Mundy (Genevieve Melcher) as well as the audience with his stories from the road. With the dashing Mr. Craig in the lively role, it is only natural that our attention would be pulled in his direction. However, while this scene is set outside of the Mundy home, the sisters never leave the stage and Maggie Mundy (Keller Anderson) is forced to maintain the fourth wall by watching their exchange from the envisioned windows of the home. Nonetheless, when Mr. Craig exits, we are once again lost and trapped in Friel’s scatterbrained world.

Despite its popularity in the early 1990’s and its Tony Award for Best Play, “Dancing at Lughnasa” seems to be a poor selection for such a talented group of young actors. Theatre Sewanee’s archaic reading of what some consider Friel’s masterpiece does not speak to a contemporary college audience, specifically the Southerners that dominate Sewanee’s student population. We have no knowledge of the Irish mentality; conceivably if we did, we would be better equipped to comprehend Friel’s vision.

Nonetheless, without being bribed by our English 101 professors to see David Landon’s annual Shakespeare production, students are unlikely to see a play at all. Perhaps is time for the Theatre department to tailor their future projects to a contemporary audience; these brilliant thespians deserve the opportunity to perform for a full house. Is it too much to ask for a production of a Tennessee Williams’ play?

Film Review: You Again (2010)

"More Bad Writing, Again"

By: Jordan Overstreet
Published: November 4, 2010

In “Sunset Blvd” screenwriter Joe Gillis whores his linguistic services out to Norma Desmond because, “sometimes it’s interesting to see just how bad bad writing can be.” Like Norma’s reworking of “Salome,” Andy Flickman’s recent flick for Touchstone Pictures “promises to go the limit.”

“You Again” will make you realize how clever Mark Water’s “Mean Girls” is. Both movies (Note: they are not films) explore similar themes of high school bullying; however, while “Mean Girls,” written by funny lady Tina Fey, ushered in a new potential for the type of humor associated with high school flicks, “You Again” resorts back to every bad cliché that managed to find its way onto your 9th grade English teacher’s wall.

The script, penned by Moe Jelline, is littered with falsities like, “they say who you are in high school is who you will be in life” (and to think Vince Vaughn is getting heat from anti-gay bulling circles for saying “Ladies and Gentlemen, electric cars are gay” in the trailer for his recent film, “The Dilemma.”) What’s offensive isn’t Vaughn’s line, which is actually original; what is offensive, however, is the fact that the American movie-going population is being subjected to such poorly written movies due to Hollywood’s need to make a buck.

Directed by Flickman, who disappointed us with 2007’s “She’s the Man,” “You Again” is a sickeningly sweet Disney smoothie of “Mean Girls” and “My Best Friend’s Wedding.” The movie begins in 2002 with the pimply Marni (Kirsten Bell) as she is taunted by other students led by head cheerleader Joanna (Odette Yustman). Joanna and her minions break out into Queen’s “We Are the Champions” and their sassy expressions as they sing seem to isolate Marni as the total loser. Needless to say, I could feel Freddy Mercury do back handsprings in his grave.

Flash-forward six years (doesn’t feel long enough, right?), and Marni, now a vice president at an elite PR firm, returns home for her older brother Will’s (James Wolk) wedding, only to find that the bride is her high school nemesis. When an overly kind Joanna claims not to remember Marni, Bell channels Julia Roberts circa “My Best Friend’s Wedding” and tries to expose Joanna’s evil side by any means necessary. Seeing as all three of them attended the same small high school in California, it seems odd that Marni would be in the dark about who her brother is marrying; this is just the first of many continuity problems throughout the script.

With Jamie Lee Curtis, Sigourney Weaver, and fiscal powerhouse Betty White onboard, this cinematic voyage should be, at the very least, moderately humorous. However, Jelline, who makes her screenwriting debut in “You Again,” is merely a child and her lack of practice shows. She relies too heavily on over used pop culture references like Facebook, so when Betty White reveals that she is “on the Twitter,” and the few people in the theatre laughed, I almost choked on a Sour Patch kid. White deserves wittier dialogue and, while I do hate to say it, it may be the end of her rejuvenated career. There are only so many absurd things an old lady can say.

Kirsten Bell is forgettable in her role as Marni and lacks the spunk needed to evoke a connection from the audience. She is a weak actress who is constantly upstaged by her leading men, be it the very talented James Wolk in this film, Josh Duhamel in “When in Rome,” or Jason Bateman in “Couples Retreat.” It’s time she got the memo that she needs acting lessons. As for Sigourney Weaver, I was excited to see her return to the screen but was perplexed by her attachment to such a low quality film. Perhaps the alumnus of the Yale Drama School needs to eat.

With the rise in online subscriptions to iTunes, Netflix, and Video On-Demand, the way people watch movies is changing, and the amount of people actually seeing a movie in a theatre is diminishing. At the end of the day, the movie-making industry is a business and in order to function that way, theses studios have to make money from the films they release. And nothing spells box-office return like an all-star cast.

“You Again,” like so many Disney movies, is cleverly packaged by those sly Mickey Mouse bastards with an array of celebrities to ensure a hefty fiscal return. They target the American family: Grandma chuckles with Betty White; little Suzie shares an inside joke with Kristen Bell; Mom reconnects with her past heroines, Jamie Lee Curtis and Sigourney Weaver; and Dad gets to foot the bill.

While I commend Disney for getting people to the theatre, I’m appalled by the lack of entertainment they expect us to swallow. The jokes aren’t funny and “You Again” is so poorly written that not even Weaver can deliver these lines with dignity; I doubt any actress can. Earth to Disney, your audience isn’t stupid, so stop writing like we are.

“You Again.” Directed by Andy Flickman; written for the screen by Moe Jelline; produced by Touchstone Pictures. Starring Kirsten Bell, Jamie Lee Curtis, Sigourney Weaver, Odette Yustman, Victor Garber, James Wolk, and Betty White. Rated PG for some strong language. Run time: 1 hour and 45 minutes.