Jonathan Demme created a beautiful celebration of magic and love and life with this movie. The best moments were built outside of plot intricacies but instead summoned out of moments of joy, music, dancing, emotion, and mania.
Jenny Lumet's screenplay can be a bit too obvious and that's what keeps it short of perfect, however, the cast of wonderfully unique faces, and the actors behind those expressions, manage to shuffle the screenplay into dark corners that put the brakes on the celebration at hand. Are you having a good time? Good. Here's another melodramatic downer before you can go back to the nuptial festivities. I kinda like it.
Run to see this if you love movies where you feel you're immersed in their world, where you know everybody there, where you are instantly transported from the darkness of the theater or the comfort of a living room. Very moving stuff.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Sunday, February 01, 2009
MILK
MILK isn't a very good movie and lamentably it isn't a Gus Van Sant film from any auteur standpoint. This is Dustin Lance Black's movie, as was written in every advertisement I've seen, and as his schmaltzy, TV movie screenplay has trumpeted to high heaven with every scene. Everything about MILK reeks of facsimile affection and rainbow coloured cheddar.
Now, I've seen the documentary THE LIFE AND TIMES OF HARVEY MILK and it did more for me and for those interested in his life because it didn't reduce his turbulent love life into soap opera or explain the achievements he earned in a "check off the list" string of sequences. I kept asking myself, is this Hollywood's poor excuse to pedestal some kind of gay martyr? The movie merely expects you to see Milk as a 'great man' without trying. They mention it once in the movie- Milk was great because used politics as a soapbox for equality. Unfortunately for cinema, he didn't do it in any spectacular way, and even if he didn't the movie sure as hell didn't do anything to pronounce that. It's a movie about a man who made speeches and loved men, and sure that may be enough, maybe even great, but it's all in the execution. The direction here fails.
Be wary of any movie where a crippled boy calls at two calculated points in the film to illustrate how Milk has affected his followers. Forget the film that swells up the music as the deceased is brought back to life with a speech he gave before his death just as the credits pop up. Run away from a film that goes back to a scene from the beginning after his murder to make the lines from that first scene appear 'prophetic' or 'transcendental'. There are no lessons here we don't know of or any truths mixed in the glowing whites of the film's photography. Except that Van Sant can continue to show he can make ridiculous Hollywood films when he feels like it and that this is a film that ignores a very important bit of foreshadowing, and you'll notice it when you see the movie, it's this: finish the 'opera' after the fat lady sings.
Now, I've seen the documentary THE LIFE AND TIMES OF HARVEY MILK and it did more for me and for those interested in his life because it didn't reduce his turbulent love life into soap opera or explain the achievements he earned in a "check off the list" string of sequences. I kept asking myself, is this Hollywood's poor excuse to pedestal some kind of gay martyr? The movie merely expects you to see Milk as a 'great man' without trying. They mention it once in the movie- Milk was great because used politics as a soapbox for equality. Unfortunately for cinema, he didn't do it in any spectacular way, and even if he didn't the movie sure as hell didn't do anything to pronounce that. It's a movie about a man who made speeches and loved men, and sure that may be enough, maybe even great, but it's all in the execution. The direction here fails.
Be wary of any movie where a crippled boy calls at two calculated points in the film to illustrate how Milk has affected his followers. Forget the film that swells up the music as the deceased is brought back to life with a speech he gave before his death just as the credits pop up. Run away from a film that goes back to a scene from the beginning after his murder to make the lines from that first scene appear 'prophetic' or 'transcendental'. There are no lessons here we don't know of or any truths mixed in the glowing whites of the film's photography. Except that Van Sant can continue to show he can make ridiculous Hollywood films when he feels like it and that this is a film that ignores a very important bit of foreshadowing, and you'll notice it when you see the movie, it's this: finish the 'opera' after the fat lady sings.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Happy Go Lucky
HAPPY GO LUCKY is the only other film I've seen from Mike Leigh and while I thought he was some down in the dirt cynic, because of NAKED, he's shown me with this picture that he grasps the full spectrum of day to day emotions.
His characters are as quirky as they were in NAKED but it goes to show that a great outlook on life they can be infectiously cheery whereas when cast in a dark light they are obnoxious. Poppy and her friends teach, laugh, and never let anything get them down. Isn't that great? Everyone else is repulsed by their unfaltering joy and yet they smile and move on. What a gift, I can't think of any talent more gracious than that.
The only character that seems to have bled in from the depths of darkness is Scott the driving instructor, who is filled with so much rage, that we resign in belief that it's too late for him. If only he'd had a social worker when he was a kid. O, there's a scene where a social worker, who Poppy fancies, helps out a troubled kid. Nice way of hinting at trouble at home being the reason for our unhappiness there, eh, Mike Leigh?
The whole flick is like if a chick Inspector Clousaeau stumbled out of fantasy land and into the world of angry, troubled, unhappy people. HAPPY GO LUCKY wonders how someone so "up" sees us. Do they pity our anger? Does it get them down? What the hell is all of this about anyway? In Poppy's case, she takes it as she comes and understands, never mind pity- it's too down for her isn't it? You won't find Mike Leigh trying to give you the answer to happiness or why we're so upset. He's only painting a character who will guide us to poke fun at ourselves and hopefully, if she charmed us right, we'll be uplifted.
His characters are as quirky as they were in NAKED but it goes to show that a great outlook on life they can be infectiously cheery whereas when cast in a dark light they are obnoxious. Poppy and her friends teach, laugh, and never let anything get them down. Isn't that great? Everyone else is repulsed by their unfaltering joy and yet they smile and move on. What a gift, I can't think of any talent more gracious than that.
The only character that seems to have bled in from the depths of darkness is Scott the driving instructor, who is filled with so much rage, that we resign in belief that it's too late for him. If only he'd had a social worker when he was a kid. O, there's a scene where a social worker, who Poppy fancies, helps out a troubled kid. Nice way of hinting at trouble at home being the reason for our unhappiness there, eh, Mike Leigh?
The whole flick is like if a chick Inspector Clousaeau stumbled out of fantasy land and into the world of angry, troubled, unhappy people. HAPPY GO LUCKY wonders how someone so "up" sees us. Do they pity our anger? Does it get them down? What the hell is all of this about anyway? In Poppy's case, she takes it as she comes and understands, never mind pity- it's too down for her isn't it? You won't find Mike Leigh trying to give you the answer to happiness or why we're so upset. He's only painting a character who will guide us to poke fun at ourselves and hopefully, if she charmed us right, we'll be uplifted.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Wendy and Lucy
I can't believe this movie was made in the "recession" climate that has enveloped the independent and mainstream Hollywood scene. Okay, maybe made, since the story is simple, and I imagine Michelle Williams made concessions, but WENDY AND LUCY's distribution is a miracle.
Kelly Reichardt has made a masterpiece about what it must feel like to be a young person in a strange nation trying to overcome an economic downturn. This film is the gentle breeze that whisked off the violent storm that was INTO THE WILD. Fuck, after seeing this I thought about all of my friends suffering months without a job, with fucked up cars, with a dog we can't take care of, not knowing what the hell is next- I know it has to do with me, too, but what about everybody else?
There are no fingers pointed at anybody in this film. Societies rules are bizarre: the fixed prices, the unjust self-righteousness, the inability to park here or sleep there. Yet it's the way things have been set up in America: we're born to be pushed around or be confined. We have to be made examples of if we live outside the dotted line that we're expected to. People can be kind, sure, but in life it's hardly ever as grandiose as something at the end of Tom Sawyer, or being given shelter by a kind family, in other words, there is no rich old tycoon to rescue you. You'll get seven bucks from a security guard at best. We, the middle class, are so strapped that all we can give is a kind gesture. What are we supposed to do with that aside from smile and nod and move on?
It's not that there's no hope. There is. Wendy in the movie is crafty in her own way. Smart people survive. They hum. O, the humming. The humming in the movie is probably the hypnotic tune the madman on the pier in PIERROT LE FOU was talking about. There you go. We have a goal, in Wendy's case it's Alaska, this ray of hope, and we're faced with so many obstacles, so all we can do is hum.
WENDY AND LUCY will be known by those who see it, and have lived what the film depicts, as a staple of these times. It also features a very cute dog.
Kelly Reichardt has made a masterpiece about what it must feel like to be a young person in a strange nation trying to overcome an economic downturn. This film is the gentle breeze that whisked off the violent storm that was INTO THE WILD. Fuck, after seeing this I thought about all of my friends suffering months without a job, with fucked up cars, with a dog we can't take care of, not knowing what the hell is next- I know it has to do with me, too, but what about everybody else?
There are no fingers pointed at anybody in this film. Societies rules are bizarre: the fixed prices, the unjust self-righteousness, the inability to park here or sleep there. Yet it's the way things have been set up in America: we're born to be pushed around or be confined. We have to be made examples of if we live outside the dotted line that we're expected to. People can be kind, sure, but in life it's hardly ever as grandiose as something at the end of Tom Sawyer, or being given shelter by a kind family, in other words, there is no rich old tycoon to rescue you. You'll get seven bucks from a security guard at best. We, the middle class, are so strapped that all we can give is a kind gesture. What are we supposed to do with that aside from smile and nod and move on?
It's not that there's no hope. There is. Wendy in the movie is crafty in her own way. Smart people survive. They hum. O, the humming. The humming in the movie is probably the hypnotic tune the madman on the pier in PIERROT LE FOU was talking about. There you go. We have a goal, in Wendy's case it's Alaska, this ray of hope, and we're faced with so many obstacles, so all we can do is hum.
WENDY AND LUCY will be known by those who see it, and have lived what the film depicts, as a staple of these times. It also features a very cute dog.
Ghost Town
Usually, the mere utterance of David Koepp would make me sling my computer at a horde of innocent puppies, or something crazily senseless like that, but lawd did this movie make me laugh. [Anyone who's seen the Koepp (who knows how that's pronounced) penned Indy 4 or War of the Worlds (who knows why Spielberg keeps hiring this idiot) relates to this urge to destroy when he's mentioned]
There's nothing particularly mentionable about the predictable, formulaic, Hollywoodesque plot and characters of the film- that goes without saying doesn't it? You've seen the trailer. The thing is, if you cast Ricky Gervais, Tea Leoni, Greg Kinnear, and especially Ricky, then you have a very funny movie.
It's that simple.
There's nothing particularly mentionable about the predictable, formulaic, Hollywoodesque plot and characters of the film- that goes without saying doesn't it? You've seen the trailer. The thing is, if you cast Ricky Gervais, Tea Leoni, Greg Kinnear, and especially Ricky, then you have a very funny movie.
It's that simple.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Perversity is a matter of perspective.
I didn’t notice it before in “Sweet Movie” until my second viewing: The commune sequence in the second half of the film is cast entirely with, and most likely shot, in Friedrichshof, where performance artist Otto Muehl and his merry band of anarchist artists vomit and shit and piss the day away. Puzzlingly, this is regarded as art by some. I’m not sure I read the importance of these “acts” in relation to the art world.
I came across Muehl’s early vomit art on YouTube and the bad vibes I felt seeing the video carried over to “Sweet Movie”. It’s puzzling how something Muehl and Makavejev considered brave and political and shocking is mainstream enough to be in 1,000 theaters for weeks. That’s right, the films I’m talking about are the “Jackass” series. Created by Spike Jonze and his pals, who happen to thank Pasolini and Bunuel, among other artists, in the end credits. No doubt, you’ll find Muehl and Makavejev on that list.
The “Jackass” boys reference to performance artists and surrealists was most likely a tongue in cheek joke. I bet modern filmmakers and artists, of the likes of Jonze and co., can see the irony in taking something as “artistic” as vomit and penis grabs and making it popular knucklehead entertainment.
Let’s face it, in the critical world the harder you look the more you see. With the right perspective you can see the disillusionment and pain and isolation and confusion in America’s youth watching “Jackass Two” or “The Hills” or anything of the sort. We know better. We can see that it’s trash and we regard it as trash and we go to it for the sake of trash.
Pasolini goes and makes “Salo”. Our Serbian pal makes “Sweet Movie”. Otto “shits” and “pukes”. Is it art because they say so? I’m not so sure. I know kids my age who see these movies with the same fascination that they see “Jackass”. Frankly, that makes sense. I think we’ve grown past being shocked into believing this stuff is art.
Yet.
I find myself rolling my eyes when I see “Sweet Movie” or “Salo”. Something I find as serious as talking about these films in absolute reverence. Spouting off about their artistic statement.
Saying they matter.
Maybe they do matter to me. After all I can’t stop thinking about them. I scoff and I groan and still I talk about these films.
So.
If I have one artistic ethic I love, it’s the right to free expression. Yet I find myself asking, why does Otto’s vomit have to be considered art?
http://www.abc.net.au/thingo/txt/s1155422.htm
http://members.ozemail.com.au/~annandbilld/vomitorium/vom_pics.htm
http://media.www.dailynebraskan.com/media/storage/paper857/news/1996/12/02/Arts/Art-Student.Plans.To.Vomit.On.Paintings-2098412.shtml
http://www.ratemyvomit.com/?action=ssp&pid=1229
and on and on.
There are enough sites online dedicated to vomit art to shame those who let their food go out traditionally. No wonder Otto’s community went out of style. It’s because EVERYONE else in the world is doing it. What does this mean?
And how long until it becomes fashionable? When Otto Muehl and Makavejev made their films it was meant to rise against the modern art politics of the time. Now kids do it all over. Next it’ll be sold in boutiques in the fashionista boulevards of Manhattan. Celebrated in parties thrown by snobbish art appreciators.
Will it?
I’m musing. Though can it?
It’s been on every screen. You can find it in any store. Criterion releases these films in their collection. We feature “Sweet Movie” on our site. The truth is it probably was already hip in high class social circles.
I felt like being grossly prophetic for a moment.
I’m in obvious need of clarification. Is a work of art still considered important and meaningful in light of the context alone?
Or is it pretentious, artistic perversity?
I came across Muehl’s early vomit art on YouTube and the bad vibes I felt seeing the video carried over to “Sweet Movie”. It’s puzzling how something Muehl and Makavejev considered brave and political and shocking is mainstream enough to be in 1,000 theaters for weeks. That’s right, the films I’m talking about are the “Jackass” series. Created by Spike Jonze and his pals, who happen to thank Pasolini and Bunuel, among other artists, in the end credits. No doubt, you’ll find Muehl and Makavejev on that list.
The “Jackass” boys reference to performance artists and surrealists was most likely a tongue in cheek joke. I bet modern filmmakers and artists, of the likes of Jonze and co., can see the irony in taking something as “artistic” as vomit and penis grabs and making it popular knucklehead entertainment.
Let’s face it, in the critical world the harder you look the more you see. With the right perspective you can see the disillusionment and pain and isolation and confusion in America’s youth watching “Jackass Two” or “The Hills” or anything of the sort. We know better. We can see that it’s trash and we regard it as trash and we go to it for the sake of trash.
Pasolini goes and makes “Salo”. Our Serbian pal makes “Sweet Movie”. Otto “shits” and “pukes”. Is it art because they say so? I’m not so sure. I know kids my age who see these movies with the same fascination that they see “Jackass”. Frankly, that makes sense. I think we’ve grown past being shocked into believing this stuff is art.
Yet.
I find myself rolling my eyes when I see “Sweet Movie” or “Salo”. Something I find as serious as talking about these films in absolute reverence. Spouting off about their artistic statement.
Saying they matter.
Maybe they do matter to me. After all I can’t stop thinking about them. I scoff and I groan and still I talk about these films.
So.
If I have one artistic ethic I love, it’s the right to free expression. Yet I find myself asking, why does Otto’s vomit have to be considered art?
http://www.abc.net.au/thingo/txt/s1155422.htm
http://members.ozemail.com.au/~annandbilld/vomitorium/vom_pics.htm
http://media.www.dailynebraskan.com/media/storage/paper857/news/1996/12/02/Arts/Art-Student.Plans.To.Vomit.On.Paintings-2098412.shtml
http://www.ratemyvomit.com/?action=ssp&pid=1229
and on and on.
There are enough sites online dedicated to vomit art to shame those who let their food go out traditionally. No wonder Otto’s community went out of style. It’s because EVERYONE else in the world is doing it. What does this mean?
And how long until it becomes fashionable? When Otto Muehl and Makavejev made their films it was meant to rise against the modern art politics of the time. Now kids do it all over. Next it’ll be sold in boutiques in the fashionista boulevards of Manhattan. Celebrated in parties thrown by snobbish art appreciators.
Will it?
I’m musing. Though can it?
It’s been on every screen. You can find it in any store. Criterion releases these films in their collection. We feature “Sweet Movie” on our site. The truth is it probably was already hip in high class social circles.
I felt like being grossly prophetic for a moment.
I’m in obvious need of clarification. Is a work of art still considered important and meaningful in light of the context alone?
Or is it pretentious, artistic perversity?
Monday, May 26, 2008
INDY 4
Imagine the summer's biggest adventure. Imagine no fun. No suspense. No charm. No camera. No cinema. There's nothing in the world that can prepare you for this. There is no booklet that will counsel your feeling of loathing and regret. Take a seat and stay there. At home. Don't leave your door. Don't go to the cinema. Don't you dare. Indiana Jones takes his next adventure to an empty Burbank backlot where the mystery lies in our hope of something remotely interesting actually ever happening. Take the risk. Take a coma. There's no hope for old Spielberg. It's glory lost my friend cuz there are new kids in town. They are cooler and smarter and they've carried the fire. I've never been so let down by an artist in a very long time.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Alter Egos and Discombobulated Emotions
'The Science of Sleep' is a stream-of-consciousness kaleidoscope of broken love and youthful longing. Michel Gondry has taken a few pages from his heartbroken diaries and brought them to the screen. I wouldn't doubt it. The love here is woven from thrift store fabric, it's falling apart before it even begins and as far as the film is concerned there may be no beginning or end. This time Charlie Kaufman isn't penning a Gondry movie and I think that's what makes this so good. This is the work of a true auteur, it's a conversation between Michel Gondry and us, a straightforward talk without convention or restraint. (Not that Kaufman isn't an artist himself)
Gael Garcia Bernal plays Stephane, a creative graphic artist that returns to Paris from Mexico to stay with his mother (Miou-Miou) after his father's death. Stephane runs into a romance with Stephanie (Charlotte Gainsborough), his timid neighbour, and her best friend Zoe (Emma de Caunes). Falling first for Zoe, he is rejected and then detours into troublesome infatuation with Stephanie. Stephane isn't in the best situation at work either since his mother had promised him a job as an artist at a calendar company and instead he got a simple nine to fiver. There he meets Guy who is played wonderfully by Alain Chabat. Guy is a lovable bully who enjoys stuffing co-workers down trashcans and yet manages to offer Stephane spots of advice.
Stephane's misadventures with friends and relationships brings memories of Godard's equally disjointed and liveley 'Masculin Feminin'. With this movie Gael Garcia Bernal has become the new Jean-Pierre Leaud. Stephane's pathology and awkwardness is equally balanced with Bernal's charm and romantic whim, not unlike Leaud did with 'Feminin's' Paul . Stephane may be a wreck but we can't help but sympathize with him. The guy sleeps in his childhood bedroom with gadgets, toys, and crafts. It's so adorable.
The love story has been seen before, guy wants girl but girl doesn't want him so guy chases after her. What story hasn't right? But I really liked the way it was told here, the disappointments and fuck ups were really authentic. I don't want to cite any specific scenes because it would spoil the surprises the movie has in store. I can just say that the way the dreams and real events are coordinated is fantastic. Okay, there's a scene where Stephane takes Stephanie's stuffed animal and gives it some repairs. In his dreams Stephane runs a t.v. show called (what else?) Stephane TV, on his show he has Stephanie act out the events that will happen when she sees her new toy. She reacts bitterly, she didn't like what he did to her toy. Stephane tells her not to do that, to act happy and grateful. Stephanie does so and he mutters, "Don't do that either, don't give me hope." I had a complete "I do that in my head too!" moment. Okay, I'm going off the film review format here but fuck it I can't review this movie any other way. I like it too much.
It's as if Gondry made a movie about my heart and many other hearts out there. Stephane's character was so close to me that it was like viewing myself through a looking glass. The way dreams and ideas float around his head are they way they float in mine. Jesus tap-dancing christ, I know that's how all our minds work. Perhaps not so paper-maché or stop motion-y but damn near close.
The movie turned out to be my "The Graduate", it really gets the pop angst mindset of the kids like me. It's like prog rock cinema in the way the rhythms are so wild and eccentric and flavorful! Hell I don't care if any of you don't like it. The ads say it nicely, "Michel Gondry invites you into his dreams". It may be a bad move as a commercial filmmaker to make a film that's so abstract and bizarre. But it's a great leap for Michel as an artist. One dude can really hate it but then some dudette might love the music and images and relate to the story so much that it changes her life. Goddamn, that's cinema! That's art man!
Seriously, the poetry of Michel Gondry's visuals will have you smiling all the way through. Gondry made a really sweet movie and his inventiveness never ceases to amaze. If you like his music videos, then you'll like this a lot if not more. Stephane's imagination is wonderful but the lesson here is that sometimes dreams can be taken too far and that perhaps not growing up just a bit can damage yourself and others. So you might leave Gondry's world a little sad. Hey, all the best love stories end with sadness don't they? It's like this, you're looking through a box and you find a raggedy picture of a young boy and a tricycle. This picture reminds you of your childhood with all the heartache and joy at once. It's as if you were the boy in that picture, it has tapped into your youth and your soul. That's what this movie does.
Gael Garcia Bernal plays Stephane, a creative graphic artist that returns to Paris from Mexico to stay with his mother (Miou-Miou) after his father's death. Stephane runs into a romance with Stephanie (Charlotte Gainsborough), his timid neighbour, and her best friend Zoe (Emma de Caunes). Falling first for Zoe, he is rejected and then detours into troublesome infatuation with Stephanie. Stephane isn't in the best situation at work either since his mother had promised him a job as an artist at a calendar company and instead he got a simple nine to fiver. There he meets Guy who is played wonderfully by Alain Chabat. Guy is a lovable bully who enjoys stuffing co-workers down trashcans and yet manages to offer Stephane spots of advice.
Stephane's misadventures with friends and relationships brings memories of Godard's equally disjointed and liveley 'Masculin Feminin'. With this movie Gael Garcia Bernal has become the new Jean-Pierre Leaud. Stephane's pathology and awkwardness is equally balanced with Bernal's charm and romantic whim, not unlike Leaud did with 'Feminin's' Paul . Stephane may be a wreck but we can't help but sympathize with him. The guy sleeps in his childhood bedroom with gadgets, toys, and crafts. It's so adorable.
The love story has been seen before, guy wants girl but girl doesn't want him so guy chases after her. What story hasn't right? But I really liked the way it was told here, the disappointments and fuck ups were really authentic. I don't want to cite any specific scenes because it would spoil the surprises the movie has in store. I can just say that the way the dreams and real events are coordinated is fantastic. Okay, there's a scene where Stephane takes Stephanie's stuffed animal and gives it some repairs. In his dreams Stephane runs a t.v. show called (what else?) Stephane TV, on his show he has Stephanie act out the events that will happen when she sees her new toy. She reacts bitterly, she didn't like what he did to her toy. Stephane tells her not to do that, to act happy and grateful. Stephanie does so and he mutters, "Don't do that either, don't give me hope." I had a complete "I do that in my head too!" moment. Okay, I'm going off the film review format here but fuck it I can't review this movie any other way. I like it too much.
It's as if Gondry made a movie about my heart and many other hearts out there. Stephane's character was so close to me that it was like viewing myself through a looking glass. The way dreams and ideas float around his head are they way they float in mine. Jesus tap-dancing christ, I know that's how all our minds work. Perhaps not so paper-maché or stop motion-y but damn near close.
The movie turned out to be my "The Graduate", it really gets the pop angst mindset of the kids like me. It's like prog rock cinema in the way the rhythms are so wild and eccentric and flavorful! Hell I don't care if any of you don't like it. The ads say it nicely, "Michel Gondry invites you into his dreams". It may be a bad move as a commercial filmmaker to make a film that's so abstract and bizarre. But it's a great leap for Michel as an artist. One dude can really hate it but then some dudette might love the music and images and relate to the story so much that it changes her life. Goddamn, that's cinema! That's art man!
Seriously, the poetry of Michel Gondry's visuals will have you smiling all the way through. Gondry made a really sweet movie and his inventiveness never ceases to amaze. If you like his music videos, then you'll like this a lot if not more. Stephane's imagination is wonderful but the lesson here is that sometimes dreams can be taken too far and that perhaps not growing up just a bit can damage yourself and others. So you might leave Gondry's world a little sad. Hey, all the best love stories end with sadness don't they? It's like this, you're looking through a box and you find a raggedy picture of a young boy and a tricycle. This picture reminds you of your childhood with all the heartache and joy at once. It's as if you were the boy in that picture, it has tapped into your youth and your soul. That's what this movie does.