Connor Meade (Matthew McConahey) is a womanizing scumbag who, invited to his brother’s wedding, refuses to give the best man toast because he thinks of marriage as “the last legal form of slavery.” That night, he receives visits from three ghosts (after an introductory visit from his playboy uncle) who take him through his past, present, and future relationships. At the end, of course Connor realizes that, all along, he has truly been in love with his childhood friend Jenny Perotti (Jennifer Garner). Despite her initial misgivings, he eventually convinces her he’s reformed, and they go off into the sunset.

It’s a fairly typical romantic comedy plot, with good acting by almost everyone and fairly funny gags. What got me thinking and made me post, though is that bit at the end where Connor has to convince Jenny that he truly is reformed and won’t walk out on her like he did before. During the scene, I was thinking that the only way to truly convince her (and even this would not be enough) would be to whip out a wedding ring. For someone who has spent his entire life avoiding commitment, the only possible reliable indicator of true commitment would be a public ceremony with as many people witnessing as possible. And given Connor’s initial anti-marriage speech (and the fact that he saves his brother’s wedding from cancellation at one point), I had hopes. But the movie lets him get away with less than that. Jenny and Connor ride off into the sunset, unhitched. Proof of commitment doesn’t require marriage any more, I guess.

The term twilight samurai appears to be a pejorative description of a samurai who is not fully committed to his honorable station. Seibei Iguchi’s wife has died, and he is caring for two daughters and an elderly mother who has lost much of her memory. This remarkable man is choosing a path of peace and domestic responsibility, and finds that it brings him immense satisfaction. When his fellow warriors go out drinking, he excuses himself to go home.

Another samurai and friend of Iguchi’s has had his sister’s marriage annulled because of her husband’s abuse. This young woman, who is also Iguchi’s childhood friend, takes an interest in him and his children. There are many lovely scenes of life in nineteenth-century Japan.

The scenes with his daughters as they ask him about their place in the world reveal an intense sensitivity and inner strength. When forced into combat, we see that he is unmatched as a swordsman. He hesitates to fight only because of his family. Even in combat, he shows a deep awareness of life and responsibility. And the fight is not simply action and special effects – it is an exploration of hope and despair, respect and duty, kindness and understanding.  Consider this bit of dialogue from the fight scene:

Zenemon Yogo: So they sent you…
Seibei Iguchi: Zenemon Yogo, by order of the clan, I come for your life. Draw your sword, please.
Zenemon Yogo: [Intoxicated] Have a drink? I know you’re all keyed up, but I’m going to run.
Seibei Iguchi: Run?
Zenemon Yogo: Yep. I want you to let me get away. If you please.
Seibei Iguchi: I didn’t expect that from the clan’s best one-sword man. My orders are to kill you. I can’t let you escape.
Zenemon Yogo: Don’t be so impatient, you can kill me at anytime. I’d like to talk to you. Have a seat. It’s a nice day. (taken from the imdb website)

This is a beautiful, thoughtful movie filled with warmth and strength.

This movie contained some graphic violence. If you can handle that, it helps you see vividly what life was like for the Jews in Warsaw during World War II. I had heard of the Warsaw Ghetto, but the name was pretty much all I knew. This movie is also a thought-provoking and beautiful depiction of a few years in the life of a great musician under such extraordinary circumstances. Since I haven’t read the memoir written by the movie’s main character, I can’t say how faithful the movie is to the true story, or indeed how faithful the memoir is to real events. I think it is artistically sublime.
**SPOILERS FOLLOW**
**DO NOT CONTINUE UNLESS YOU HAVE ALREADY SEEN THE MOVIE**
Throughout the movie, if you are a movie lover, you find yourself wondering why it is called The Pianist. After his radio career is ended by the war, he still has a job early on playing the piano in a restaurant in the Warsaw Ghetto, but that also soon ends. He moves from one hiding place to another, not able to live like a pianist, nor even like a human, since he must never be seen or heard and depends on unreliable volunteers to bring him food.
I appreciated the subtlety of the movie. Beneath all the catastrophic upheaval in the world runs the simple tension of being a pianist without touching a piano for years. The main character is cut off in the middle of a brilliant Chopin recording by the bombing of Warsaw. During his café job he is asked to stop playing so a gold trader can test by ear the virtue of some coins. And in one painful scene during his years of hiding, the pianist is brought into an apartment with a piano and then told not to make any noise. This is after years without being near an instrument. The pianist quietly seats himself at the piano and starts moving his fingers an inch above the keys, listening to the sound that is not there.
Often it seems that great musicians and artists find special license to ignore social conventions or obligations, but this guy always put others first. He showed little regret about forsaking his love and his livelihood, although he must have strongly felt it. He seemed unlike your stereotypical genius to me. He must have realized that his suffering was like that of millions of others.
The movie would be good in one sense as a story of Jewish heroism during World War II. But I think it is trying to be something else, almost a fairy tale. All the shame, terror, hunger, grief, and injustice build up to the moment you realize you have been waiting for the whole movie, the scene in the bombed-out ghetto when he is discovered by a Nazi commander and gets to reveal who he really is—the pianist­.
I asked a friend who is an accomplished professional pianist whether it was a stretch for someone to play a challenging piece on demand after years of not practicing. She seemed to think that virtually practicing on a tabletop would be enough. “So much of it is in your ear,” she said.
I could give the pianist the benefit of the doubt about overcoming hunger and muscle fatigue—I’m sure he had enough adrenalin flowing through his veins to allow such a performance. However, I am still skeptical that the technically demanding passages could have come off quite perfectly. Otherwise why do concert pianists take such pains to practice regularly?
I looked at passages of the memoir to compare the real pianist’s own description of that amazing scene. The movie scene seems to have been somewhat romanticized, mainly in the quality of the piano he found in the war-ravaged ghetto.
I played Chopin’s Nocturne in C sharp minor. The glassy, tinkling sound of the untuned strings rang through the empty flat and the stairway, floated through the ruins of the villa on the other side of the street and returned as a muted, melancholy echo. When I had finished, the silence seemed even gloomier and even more eerie than before.
In the memoir, you don’t get any better sense of what he was feeling at the time. It seems artistically justified to make the piano a well-tuned one in the movie, just to hear those liquid notes of Chopin’s and satisfy your desire that has grown throughout the movie, just to let him play again.

This movie contained some graphic violence. If you can handle that, it helps you see vividly what life was like for the Jews in Warsaw during World War II. I had heard of the Warsaw Ghetto, but the name was pretty much all I knew. This movie is also a thought-provoking and beautiful depiction of a few years in the life of a great musician under such extraordinary circumstances. Since I haven’t read the memoir written by the movie’s main character, I can’t say how faithful the movie is to the true story, or indeed how faithful the memoir is to real events. I think it is artistically sublime.

**SPOILERS FOLLOW**
**DO NOT CONTINUE UNLESS YOU HAVE ALREADY SEEN THE MOVIE**

Throughout the movie, if you are a music lover, you find yourself wondering why it is called The Pianist. After his radio career is ended by the war, he still has a job early on playing the piano in a restaurant in the Warsaw Ghetto, but that also soon ends. He moves from one hiding place to another, not able to live like a pianist, nor even like a human, since he must never be seen or heard and depends on unreliable volunteers to bring him food.

I appreciated the subtlety of the movie. Beneath all the catastrophic upheaval in the world runs the simple tension of being a pianist without touching a piano for years. The main character is cut off in the middle of a brilliant Chopin recording by the bombing of Warsaw. During his café job he is asked to stop playing so a gold trader can test by ear the virtue of some coins. And in one painful scene during his years of hiding, the pianist is brought into an apartment with a piano and then told not to make any noise. This is after years without being near an instrument. The pianist quietly seats himself at the piano and starts moving his fingers an inch above the keys, listening to the sound that is not there.

Often it seems that great musicians and artists find special license to ignore social conventions or obligations, but this guy always put others first. He showed little regret about forsaking his love and his livelihood, although he must have strongly felt it. He seemed unlike your stereotypical genius to me. He must have realized that his suffering was like that of millions of others.

The movie would be good in one sense as a story of Jewish heroism during World War II. But I think it is trying to be something else, almost a fairy tale. All the shame, terror, hunger, grief, and injustice build up to the moment you realize you have been waiting for the whole movie, the scene in the bombed-out ghetto when he is discovered by a Nazi commander and gets to reveal who he really is—the pianist­.

I asked a friend who is an accomplished professional pianist whether it was a stretch for someone to play a challenging piece on demand after years of not practicing. She seemed to think that virtually practicing on a tabletop would be enough. “So much of it is in your ear,” she said.

I could give the pianist the benefit of the doubt about overcoming hunger and muscle fatigue—I’m sure he had enough adrenalin flowing through his veins to allow such a performance. However, I am still skeptical that the technically demanding passages could have come off quite perfectly. Otherwise why do concert pianists take such pains to practice regularly?

I looked at passages of the memoir to compare the real pianist’s own description of that amazing scene. The movie scene seems to have been somewhat romanticized, mainly in the quality of the piano he found in the war-ravaged ghetto.

I played Chopin’s Nocturne in C sharp minor. The glassy, tinkling sound of the untuned strings rang through the empty flat and the stairway, floated through the ruins of the villa on the other side of the street and returned as a muted, melancholy echo. When I had finished, the silence seemed even gloomier and even more eerie than before.

In the memoir, you don’t get any better sense of what he was feeling at the time. It seems artistically justified to make the piano a well-tuned one in the movie, just to hear those liquid notes of Chopin’s and satisfy your desire that has grown throughout the movie, just to let him play again.

This movie is based on the book of the same name, telling the story of the Odessa Texas Permian High School football team during the 1988 season. Being from Texas, I [Preston] was familiar with the long-standing winning tradition of Permian. After watching the movie, I researched the accuracy of events and found that some movie-making dramatic liberties were taken. But, all in all, it tells an accurate and believable story.
What gets impressed over and over is that Permian football is huge in Odessa. The high school players are like celebrities, football is a constant topic of conversation, and the town comes to a standstill on Friday nights. The movie focuses on a few key players as well as the head coach, and does a good job with building character depth as the season progresses. I found the coach character intriguing. He has enormous pressure placed on him by the townsfolk and boosters. But he handles himself well and makes time to get involved in the lives of his players who have various issues. The star player gets injured in the first game and then tries to realize what he might become without football. Another player has an abusive father whose feelings are tied to his son’s football performances, and the quarterback has a home life he struggles to deal with as well. Also, the football scenes are action-packed to appeal to the fans of the game.

This movie is based on the book of the same name, telling the story of the Odessa Texas Permian High School football team during the 1988 season. Being from Texas, I [Preston] was familiar with the long-standing winning tradition of Permian. After watching the movie, I researched the accuracy of events and found that some movie-making dramatic liberties were taken. But, all in all, it tells an accurate and believable story.

What gets impressed over and over is that Permian football is huge in Odessa. The high school players are like celebrities, football is a constant topic of conversation, and the town comes to a standstill on Friday nights. The movie focuses on a few key players as well as the head coach, and does a good job with building character depth as the season progresses. I found the coach character intriguing. He has enormous pressure placed on him by the townsfolk and boosters. But he handles himself well and makes time to get involved in the lives of his players who have various issues. The star player gets injured in the first game and then tries to realize what he might become without football. Another player has an abusive father whose feelings are tied to his son’s football performances, and the quarterback has a home life he struggles to deal with as well. Also, the football scenes are action-packed to appeal to the fans of the game.

This is the latest film in a series of documentaries which follows the lives of fourteen British children since they were seven years old. Each documentary has been produced at a seven-year interval and titled according to their ages; hence this one was filmed when they were 49 years old. The same director, Michael Apted, has made all of these films. The children were originally selected from very diverse backgrounds, and his original study was to see how their socioeconomic position at that time affected their future.

I [Preston] had not seen any of the previous films, but I enjoyed this one because no prerequisite is needed. The director does a good job weaving in past interviews and each person’s history into the current situation at age 49. Part of the appeal is that you never know how someone’s story will turn out. One man was homeless for a time with mental health issues, but now, with the support of some friends, is a city councillor. Most of the stories are not as dramatic, but I found it interesting to see the taped interviews where they discuss their hopes and goals, and then to see them watch those in the present day and comment on them.

The people all have different viewpoints on what it means to them to have their lives documented. Some have even dropped out and refused to participate further for various reasons. The film explores many questions, but one sticks with me: Would I live my life any differently if I knew I would give a public account every seven years?

This is a documentary about a charismatic youth camp in North Dakota. We didn’t like this film much for two main reasons.

First, it’s obvious the filmmaker wants to portray the camp leaders and parents of these children as intolerant zealots who want to brainwash the kids into becoming religious and political activists. Based on some of the interviews with these adults, elements of that mindset do surface, but the film implies that this is a nationwide movement among Christian churches and families.

The second reason we didn’t like the film had to do with those same adults who were interviewed and followed. Religiously, they have an air of emotional extremism as they encourage the kids to stop sinning, which involves much weeping and wailing. And it appears some of them consider Republicans God’s chosen party, with too many misplaced connections between faith and politics. But, even though we dislike these teaching methods, it is worthwhile to bring their silliness to light.

This is a documentary about a singing group made up of senior citizens. What makes them unique is that, instead of singing old-time tunes that they may have grown up with, their repertoire includes rock, punk, and disco. The film chronicles their preparations for an upcoming concert. One of our favorite parts of the movie was the music videos previously recorded by the group that are interspersed with the documentary scenes.

The film focuses on a few of the group members as they live their lives during this rehearsal period. It’s poignant to see their struggles with health just to be able to make rehearsal and sing. A curious note is that they didn’t express a spiritual dimension in dealing with their mortality.

We loved this movie—it was funny and interesting.

Right now seems like an appropriate time to mention some Iranian movies that we’ve talked about for a long time, and recommended to many other people. Even though I’ve reviewed two of them already (you can link to the previous review by clicking on the title), they’re worth mentioning again.

Children of Heaven is about a brother and sister who must share a pair of shoes in order to go to school, and how they arrange to do this so their parents don’t know: they don’t want to worry their mother and father about the cost of a pair of shoes.

The Color of Paradise is about a widower who wants to remarry, but is afraid his intended will reject him if she knows he has a blind son. So he sends the son to live with a carpenter, who is also blind. This is an amazingly beautiful movie, I think intentionally and ironically, because we see the beauty of the world through the perception of the blind child.

The Wind Will Carry Us is about a news crew filming in a remote Iranian village. It’s a very interesting locale with some old cultural traditions.

Offside is about the attempt by some female soccer fans to attend the World Cup soccer match in Tehran.

If you want to put a face on Iran, it’d be worthwhile to watch at least one of these. Exotic locations, some incredibly beautiful scenery, and stories of ordinary people that show that nobody is truly ordinary.

Juliette has been released after fifteen years in prison and goes to live with her much younger sister, Lea. Because Lea was a teenager when Juliette went to prison, their parents were able to prevent her from contacting Juliette after her trial and conviction. Even though she has only a few memories of her sister, Lea gladly welcomes Juliette to live with her, her husband, and their two young children.

For her part, Juliette made a decision alone to commit a crime and, alone, to take the consequences. In the fifteen years since, she has become accustomed to being autonomous, ignored, and condemned, and finds it difficult to trust anyone. She only gradually dares to take part in the ordinary activities of Lea’s family’s lives, and gradually becomes aware of the many ways that she and Lea are, and have been, connected; that she has never been completely independent.

Little by little in the course of the film we come to learn the reasons for Juliette’s imprisonment, some details of her life, and the reasons for her crime. All this is important, but the most important fact of the movie is Lea’s wholehearted love for a sister she barely remembers and certainly does not now know. Despite her parents’ efforts to banish Juliette from the family, Lea has kept her in her heart. This is a story of isolation and reconnection, of loss and redemption; not easy, but ultimately hopeful.

[The movie’s title comes from a French children’s song, À la Claire Fontaine, which is one of the memories the sisters share. The chorus of this well-known song says “Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai—I’ve loved you so long, never will I forget you.”]

This movie tells the story of three men in Boston who were childhood friends. The actors are well known (Sean Penn, Tim Robbins and Kevin Bacon) and their performances are worthy of their reputations.

The movie begins with a tragic incident that occurs when they were children, and then jumps ahead to the present day. One man is a shopkeeper whose daughter has been murdered. Another man is the police detective assigned to investigate the case, and the third man (the victim of the childhood crime) is continually dealing with the scars from his past.

The movie is rated R for language and violence, but I (Preston) thought the story was intriguing enough to endure those things. I enjoyed it because it keeps you guessing. It carries an aura of mystery throughout and it’s an interesting play of wounds (old and new) and how those lead to actions. I liked the character study of the street-tough father who just lost his daughter and wants revenge along with the straight-laced cop that is trying to sort through the case by following the trail of evidence. Then the tortured soul of the third man plays into this mix.