Directed by Lisa Cholodenko
Mandalay Vision
In an attempt to beat the glorious heat last week, I ducked in to the cool air conditioned walls of The Archlight theater in Hollywood to catch an afternoon showing of Lisa Cholodenko's new high femme film, The Kids Are All Right. This movie is so fucking good, and it is refreshing to see a film written and directed by a (feminist, lesbian) woman about a family helmed by (feminist, lesbian) women starring women (who are feminists). The themes in this movie—family, love, sex, growing up—are highlighted by some of the best performances I've seen in quite a while.
Annette Bening (Nic) and Julianne Moore (Jules) play partners who have been together for going on twenty years. They've raised two teenage children, played spot-on by Mia Wasikowska (Joni) and Josh Hutcherson (Laser). When Joni turns eighteen, she and Laser make the decision to track down and contact the sperm donor their mothers used to fertilize their family.
Enter the salacious Mark Ruffalo (Paul). He wears leather, rides a bike, owns an organic restaurant, and scores with chicks. (He's sexy, so sue me.) Anyway... Paul develops a relationship with the clan and the wheel of family discourse is set in motion.
Perhaps the thing that impressed me most about this film was the easy yet indefinable family dynamic. I come from a family that many would have trouble categorizing, so I am always pleased to find films with alternative family constructs that actually work. The fact that these two women happen to be lesbians does not define their characters or their relationships within the family. This is not a "gay movie," nor a "chick flick." No, I would call this movie human, hilarious, heartbreaking, and hopeful.
I left the theater thinking hard about the seemingly random associations with my own family. And a few hours later, I called my mom.
Review by Kadi Rodriguez
Cross-posted at LA Femmedia
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Despicable Me
Directed by Pierre Coffin and Chris Renaud
Universal Studios
A few years ago my eleven year old sister was writing an essay on violence in schools. During our discussion of different types of violence, she astutely pointed out that not all violence is physical, and that a mean comment can be just as violent as a punch in the face. This led to an involved conversation about bullies in which, at one point, my sister looked at me and said, “I think bullies are mean to the kids at school because no one is nice to them at home. No one is giving them love.”
Despicable Me is the story Gruu (Steve Carell), a young boy whose dreams of traveling in space were thwarted by an uncaring mother and resulted in a grownup bully most proud of being the world’s greatest villain. That is, until he is bested by the younger, sleeker Vector (Jason Segal) and must enlist three orphaned girls in his grand plan to steal the moon. While the title of the movie suggests this is a film about a villain and his despicable acts, it is truly a love story about the bonds of parenthood, and the many ways people create family.
Like many animated features, Despicable Me appeals to both adults and children by providing timely social commentary amidst silly sights and situations. The beauty of animation is that it allows imaginary caricatures to perform acts that are very real, and very human. The title alone is a reflection of the human condition, for any one of us can be the “me” in question, participating in any variety of despicable acts on a daily basis.
As the titular Me, Steve Carell adds another credit to his list of bumbling anti-heroes we love to see succeed. Though his accent is mildly distracting, audiences will recognize the same humble wit that endears us to him week after week on The Office. Segal is equally impressive as Vector, a geek turned villain in response to a consistently disappointed father. But it is the always awesome Kristen Wiig who is perhaps the most despicable of all.
As orphanage headmistress Miss Hattie, Wiig delivers her lines like glass of sweet tea with razor ice cubes—sugary sweet and viciously sharp all in the same mouthful. Clearly a jab at the adoption system, as well as gender and class privilege, she callously sends Margot, Edith, and Elsie out the door with the despicable Gruu, who offers no credentials or identification, but is simply disguised as a doctor.
While the film neglects one of my cardinal rules of feminist filmmaking—having positive female role models—it did call into question traditional roles of masculinity, especially in response to parenthood. Margot, Edith, and Elsie were role models in their own right, emulating and each serving as a manifestation of responsibility (Margot), skepticism (Edith), and unquestioning affection (Elsie). In addition to having some of the funniest lines in the film, the sister’s camaraderie and confidence in their own relationship, as well as their unconditional love for each other and those around them, is what eventually turns Gruu from super bad to Super Dad.
Review by Alicia Sowisdral
Universal Studios
A few years ago my eleven year old sister was writing an essay on violence in schools. During our discussion of different types of violence, she astutely pointed out that not all violence is physical, and that a mean comment can be just as violent as a punch in the face. This led to an involved conversation about bullies in which, at one point, my sister looked at me and said, “I think bullies are mean to the kids at school because no one is nice to them at home. No one is giving them love.”
Despicable Me is the story Gruu (Steve Carell), a young boy whose dreams of traveling in space were thwarted by an uncaring mother and resulted in a grownup bully most proud of being the world’s greatest villain. That is, until he is bested by the younger, sleeker Vector (Jason Segal) and must enlist three orphaned girls in his grand plan to steal the moon. While the title of the movie suggests this is a film about a villain and his despicable acts, it is truly a love story about the bonds of parenthood, and the many ways people create family.
Like many animated features, Despicable Me appeals to both adults and children by providing timely social commentary amidst silly sights and situations. The beauty of animation is that it allows imaginary caricatures to perform acts that are very real, and very human. The title alone is a reflection of the human condition, for any one of us can be the “me” in question, participating in any variety of despicable acts on a daily basis.
As the titular Me, Steve Carell adds another credit to his list of bumbling anti-heroes we love to see succeed. Though his accent is mildly distracting, audiences will recognize the same humble wit that endears us to him week after week on The Office. Segal is equally impressive as Vector, a geek turned villain in response to a consistently disappointed father. But it is the always awesome Kristen Wiig who is perhaps the most despicable of all.
As orphanage headmistress Miss Hattie, Wiig delivers her lines like glass of sweet tea with razor ice cubes—sugary sweet and viciously sharp all in the same mouthful. Clearly a jab at the adoption system, as well as gender and class privilege, she callously sends Margot, Edith, and Elsie out the door with the despicable Gruu, who offers no credentials or identification, but is simply disguised as a doctor.
While the film neglects one of my cardinal rules of feminist filmmaking—having positive female role models—it did call into question traditional roles of masculinity, especially in response to parenthood. Margot, Edith, and Elsie were role models in their own right, emulating and each serving as a manifestation of responsibility (Margot), skepticism (Edith), and unquestioning affection (Elsie). In addition to having some of the funniest lines in the film, the sister’s camaraderie and confidence in their own relationship, as well as their unconditional love for each other and those around them, is what eventually turns Gruu from super bad to Super Dad.
Review by Alicia Sowisdral
Babies
Directed by Thomas Balmès
Focus Features
I just got back from seeing the documentary Babies. I have to say that it was great! Director Thomas Balmès followed four babies from four countries for a little over a year each. The movie is mostly without dialogue, except for the little bit of the parents' talking. It is mostly shot from the baby's level, and is organized by the developmental stages of babies' lives. This choice was a great way to highlight each culture and keep the movie flowing.
I really enjoyed seeing the differences in parenting and lifestyles. I found Ponijao, the baby from Namibia, to be the most interesting. The parenting style there was extremely community oriented, though men seemed to have no place in parenting there. This collective parenting made it hard to tell who the baby's mother was through much of the movie.
Bayar, from Mongolia, lives on a family farm. It's amazing to see how closely he grows up with the animals and how he is given a lot of freedom. It's also interesting that his parents seem to take a very removed roll. Although the mother is an active parent at times, Bayar tends to be left to his own devices or with a slightly older sibling.
Japanese Mari was raised in a very Western manner, with her mother taking her to prearranged play dates and having her interact with toys produced by the baby industry. In California, Hattie grows up with a ton of toys and books. She goes to organized baby-centered activities, but otherwise is very solitary. Out of all the babies' fathers, Hattie's seems to be the most involved in his child's life.
Babies does a great job of staying silent; there is no voice-over commentary or focus on the parents apart from when they are interacting with their child. That said, I think the filmmaker intended to create a discussion about parenting, but Babies could easily act as a way to create an Other by creating a divide between Western and non-Western worlds. Although it shows how babies are similar overall, cultural and economic divisions and not providing context and commentary makes it too easy to view those from non-Western cultures as outsiders.
When watching the film, it's hard to remember that these are sample sizes of one, which makes it easy to critique the parenting style of, say, the Japanese parents because there are more than a few scenes of Mari being crabby. But she could easily have colic or be teething or it could just be a result of her parents' individual style, not a reflection of Japanese society as a whole. Similarly, Babies makes it seem as though this Mongolian family is completely removed from parenting, when it could be the economic pressures they face that creates a need for both of Bayar's parents to work.
I noticed some negative reactions in the theater. The film shows breastfeeding, which elicited a small gasp from another patron, and there were also some inappropriate reactions to the children in two of the cultures who were regularly without pants. I think these reactions tell a lot about Americans biases, and how these negative views make natural choices difficult for many mothers.
Other than these few things, Babies was amazing. I'd definitely suggest it to anyone who has an interest in children or parenting. I would just make sure the person understands that these are glimpses into the lives of individuals, and while the people featured may represent a part of their culture, they are not necessarily representative of the culture as a whole.
Review by Cheryl Friedman
Cross-posted at Squirrely Mama
Focus Features
I just got back from seeing the documentary Babies. I have to say that it was great! Director Thomas Balmès followed four babies from four countries for a little over a year each. The movie is mostly without dialogue, except for the little bit of the parents' talking. It is mostly shot from the baby's level, and is organized by the developmental stages of babies' lives. This choice was a great way to highlight each culture and keep the movie flowing.
I really enjoyed seeing the differences in parenting and lifestyles. I found Ponijao, the baby from Namibia, to be the most interesting. The parenting style there was extremely community oriented, though men seemed to have no place in parenting there. This collective parenting made it hard to tell who the baby's mother was through much of the movie.
Bayar, from Mongolia, lives on a family farm. It's amazing to see how closely he grows up with the animals and how he is given a lot of freedom. It's also interesting that his parents seem to take a very removed roll. Although the mother is an active parent at times, Bayar tends to be left to his own devices or with a slightly older sibling.
Japanese Mari was raised in a very Western manner, with her mother taking her to prearranged play dates and having her interact with toys produced by the baby industry. In California, Hattie grows up with a ton of toys and books. She goes to organized baby-centered activities, but otherwise is very solitary. Out of all the babies' fathers, Hattie's seems to be the most involved in his child's life.
Babies does a great job of staying silent; there is no voice-over commentary or focus on the parents apart from when they are interacting with their child. That said, I think the filmmaker intended to create a discussion about parenting, but Babies could easily act as a way to create an Other by creating a divide between Western and non-Western worlds. Although it shows how babies are similar overall, cultural and economic divisions and not providing context and commentary makes it too easy to view those from non-Western cultures as outsiders.
When watching the film, it's hard to remember that these are sample sizes of one, which makes it easy to critique the parenting style of, say, the Japanese parents because there are more than a few scenes of Mari being crabby. But she could easily have colic or be teething or it could just be a result of her parents' individual style, not a reflection of Japanese society as a whole. Similarly, Babies makes it seem as though this Mongolian family is completely removed from parenting, when it could be the economic pressures they face that creates a need for both of Bayar's parents to work.
I noticed some negative reactions in the theater. The film shows breastfeeding, which elicited a small gasp from another patron, and there were also some inappropriate reactions to the children in two of the cultures who were regularly without pants. I think these reactions tell a lot about Americans biases, and how these negative views make natural choices difficult for many mothers.
Other than these few things, Babies was amazing. I'd definitely suggest it to anyone who has an interest in children or parenting. I would just make sure the person understands that these are glimpses into the lives of individuals, and while the people featured may represent a part of their culture, they are not necessarily representative of the culture as a whole.
Review by Cheryl Friedman
Cross-posted at Squirrely Mama
The Baby Formula
Directed by Alison Reid
Wolfe Video
"Why shouldn't we have the chance to make our own babies, have our own children?”
That's one of the first lines spoken in The Baby Formula, a delightful award-winning Canadian mockumentary that took two honors in 2009: the Audience Award at the Toronto Inside Out Lesbian & Gay Film & Video Festival and Best LGBT Film at the Nashville Film Festival. Director and producer Alison Reid is also responsible for Succubus, the 2006 short film that served as the springboard from which the feature-length The Baby Formula was spawned (pun intended).
In the ancient world, Athena was the Greek goddess of wisdom, and Lilith was Adam's first wife, kicked out of the Garden of Eden in favor of Eve. In The Baby Formula, Athena and Lilith are a comfortably settled married couple who are about to become parents. Both are wise, defiant women, and they have decided to do things a little differently. See, these ladies are pregnant with each other's biological babies.
Shortly after the opening credits, we're taken inside the laboratory of two Canadian scientists being interviewed by a documentarian (Alison Reid). Both scientists—Dr. Oldenfield, a balding older man with a Scottish accent, and Jim, his younger awkward counterpart—claim they have made it possible to create life with artificial sperm generated from stem cells. In the wry words of Dr. Oldenfield, “People think we're making men obsolete; we're simply making them unnecessary.” “One day we'll make women unnecessary, too,” replies Jim.
It's a risky and controversial procedure, one that Athena willingly undergoes because she works for the lab and desires a family with Lilith. Athena is the first to get pregnant from artificial sperm created from Lilith's stem cells. When the two scientists are questioned about government approval for the procedure, they claim it won’t be approved for at least a decade, if at all.
While Athena is all aglow with baby on board, Lilith is jealous. She decides to also be pregnant, and gets inseminated with Athena's woman-sperm without Athena's permission. This being a comedy, we know this cannot be the only challenge for our dynamic duo. The tactless documentarian and her persistent crew contact Athena's deadbeat closet-case brother Larry, who swears that Lilith's baby is his. Larry threatens to expose the women, which could in turn expose their unique babies and cost Athena her job. The couple decide on a preemptive strike and gather both of their families together to tell them where their grandbabies were really coming from. As would be expected, that's when things get really interesting.
To say that The Baby Formula is simply a send-up of medical ethics and the lesbian baby boom would be a gross oversimplification. It gets its jabs in everywhere. For example, in one especially memorable scene, the film pokes fun at the cultural appropriation that underpins white middle class neoliberalism. Lilith and Athena are discussing possible baby names following a pregnant couples yoga class. Lilith plans to name her daughter Abigail after her grandmother, while Athena runs down a list of Japanese names. When Lilith points our that neither she nor her wife are Japanese, Athena hilariously defends herself by saying, “Hey, humanity is universal.”
In fact, The Baby Formula manages to achieve something many queer films haven't: a certain universal appeal. By introducing us to the couple's (very different) families, we are reminded of the ever-shifting dynamics every family faces when dealing with pregnancy and children. We see kids and parents learning from their mistakes, new parents quickly shifting gears from giddy to exhausted, and disparate families coming together in love during times of great sorrow. The Baby Formula even ends with a lively holiday party–which is most formulaic of happy family film endings–proving the long-standing hypothesis that no matter how they are conceived, every family borne from love is a real and valuable one.
Review by M. Brianna Stallings
Wolfe Video
"Why shouldn't we have the chance to make our own babies, have our own children?”
That's one of the first lines spoken in The Baby Formula, a delightful award-winning Canadian mockumentary that took two honors in 2009: the Audience Award at the Toronto Inside Out Lesbian & Gay Film & Video Festival and Best LGBT Film at the Nashville Film Festival. Director and producer Alison Reid is also responsible for Succubus, the 2006 short film that served as the springboard from which the feature-length The Baby Formula was spawned (pun intended).
In the ancient world, Athena was the Greek goddess of wisdom, and Lilith was Adam's first wife, kicked out of the Garden of Eden in favor of Eve. In The Baby Formula, Athena and Lilith are a comfortably settled married couple who are about to become parents. Both are wise, defiant women, and they have decided to do things a little differently. See, these ladies are pregnant with each other's biological babies.
Shortly after the opening credits, we're taken inside the laboratory of two Canadian scientists being interviewed by a documentarian (Alison Reid). Both scientists—Dr. Oldenfield, a balding older man with a Scottish accent, and Jim, his younger awkward counterpart—claim they have made it possible to create life with artificial sperm generated from stem cells. In the wry words of Dr. Oldenfield, “People think we're making men obsolete; we're simply making them unnecessary.” “One day we'll make women unnecessary, too,” replies Jim.
It's a risky and controversial procedure, one that Athena willingly undergoes because she works for the lab and desires a family with Lilith. Athena is the first to get pregnant from artificial sperm created from Lilith's stem cells. When the two scientists are questioned about government approval for the procedure, they claim it won’t be approved for at least a decade, if at all.
While Athena is all aglow with baby on board, Lilith is jealous. She decides to also be pregnant, and gets inseminated with Athena's woman-sperm without Athena's permission. This being a comedy, we know this cannot be the only challenge for our dynamic duo. The tactless documentarian and her persistent crew contact Athena's deadbeat closet-case brother Larry, who swears that Lilith's baby is his. Larry threatens to expose the women, which could in turn expose their unique babies and cost Athena her job. The couple decide on a preemptive strike and gather both of their families together to tell them where their grandbabies were really coming from. As would be expected, that's when things get really interesting.
To say that The Baby Formula is simply a send-up of medical ethics and the lesbian baby boom would be a gross oversimplification. It gets its jabs in everywhere. For example, in one especially memorable scene, the film pokes fun at the cultural appropriation that underpins white middle class neoliberalism. Lilith and Athena are discussing possible baby names following a pregnant couples yoga class. Lilith plans to name her daughter Abigail after her grandmother, while Athena runs down a list of Japanese names. When Lilith points our that neither she nor her wife are Japanese, Athena hilariously defends herself by saying, “Hey, humanity is universal.”
In fact, The Baby Formula manages to achieve something many queer films haven't: a certain universal appeal. By introducing us to the couple's (very different) families, we are reminded of the ever-shifting dynamics every family faces when dealing with pregnancy and children. We see kids and parents learning from their mistakes, new parents quickly shifting gears from giddy to exhausted, and disparate families coming together in love during times of great sorrow. The Baby Formula even ends with a lively holiday party–which is most formulaic of happy family film endings–proving the long-standing hypothesis that no matter how they are conceived, every family borne from love is a real and valuable one.
Review by M. Brianna Stallings
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