The Five-Year Engagement

I really wanted to like this movie.  I had high expectations, especially since I was there with a girlfriend and not my husband (he was certain he would not enjoy the film).  I absolutely loved Bridesmaids and I had it in my head that the Five-Year Engagement would be along those lines: clever satire spiked with some raunchy slapstick/toilet humour.  I’m sorry to say it was not.  The Five-Year Engagement isn’t a bad movie really, it’s just not very funny.  If I’d gone in not expecting to laugh or approached it like I do most Adam Sandler movies (with a “let’s get this over with attitude”), I would probably be writing a different review right now.  I think the problem is that the film’s situation was a bit too real and a bit too sad. The Five-Year Engagement centres around two characters who seemed pretty real to me and were quite likeable.  They live in San Francisco and lead excellent lives.  But then Violet accepts a post-doc position at the University of Michigan and Tom (who is an up-and-coming chef) readily agrees to go, thinking it would be just two years and they’d be back in San Francisco.  I immediately liked the premise as it is a situation that many of my friends have experienced (or are about to).  The couple decide to put off their marriage plans until they return to California.  As it turns out Tom despises Michigan while Violet excels in her post-doc position.  Tom can’t find meaningful work and becomes depressed….and well you can probably guess the rest.  There are moments of silliness but these are fleeting and not particularly funny (aside from the Elmo & Cookie Monster scene, where I whole-heartedly laughed) and they are overshadowed by this real problem confronting the couple. The movie was about a half-hour too long and while I actually liked the ending, I did not emerge from the theatre feeling like the whole thing was worth two hours of my life.  I wanted to laugh and instead I pondered.

The Hunter

As a vegetarian and an absolute wimp about violence, I would never go out of my way to see a film with the title, “The Hunter“. However my lovely husband had heard very good things about it and was eager to go. As it turns out, I should learn to trust my instincts with these things. The story centres around a man hired to hunt down the last Tasmanian tiger in existence; it is a very dark film and does not give you much hope for the future of human-nature relationships. The hunter is not a man you like, for several reasons: he’s rude and stand-offish, seems to have no problem with trapping animals using the very inhuman and cruel steel leg-trap, and for the most obvious reason: he’s planning to kill the last member of a species. Although there is some very gorgeous scenery, this was overshadowed for me by the constant fear of seeing a dead, gory animal in the shot (there are a lot of shots of dead, gory animals in this film). I spent the night with images of Tasmanian tigers floating through my dreams; grey and watery images that left me feeling depleted and a bit bummed. These kinds of movies that paint such a bleak picture of human nature really seem to affect me. All this is not to say that it wasn’t a good film; it’s just that I have a hard time separating out the way the movie made me feel with a more objective assessment of the film’s artistic worth. I actually feel fairly unequipped to give a critical review because (as I mentioned before) I am a wimp and am too affected by cute animals being maimed to be objective. So all I can do is rate the movie based on the level of enjoyment I experienced during and after watching it. Needless to say….this movie does not get a baboony stamp of approval. However, the ending of the film is actually pretty poetic and leaves a lot to ponder – it is definitely left open to some interpretation. This saved the film for me and is the reason I’m not giving it only a half baboon. The ending makes it worth a solid 2.

Jiro Dreams of Sushi

Until last weekend I had never heard of the documentary film, Jiro Dreams of Sushi.  It has a weird title and I probably wouldn’t have investigated further had I come across the listing in our local theatre.  Happily, I have friends who are really tuned into the world of film and are not averse to the off-the-beaten-track variety.  My friend Lindsey, who probably loves food just as much as she loves photography (correct, Linds?) was extremely eager to see Jiro.  I love documentaries, so it was an easy sell. As it turns out, Jiro Dreams of Sushi might be one of the most beautiful films I have ever seen.  I’m wracking my brain here, trying to remember other beautiful films: Manufactured Landscapes, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Pina all jump to mind but as has been stated repeatedly on this blog, my memory is crap so I’m only remembering films that I either recently saw (Pina and Eternal Sunshine) or recently read about and remembered seeing (Manufactured Landscapes).  I’m sure I’ve seen films as equally beautiful as Jiro, but none spring to mind.  The three aforementioned ones are in the same galaxy, but I think it takes a special film to show about 5 dozen (stunning) shots of single pieces of nigiri and keep you interested.  In a nutshell, Jiro is an eighty-five-year-old sushi chef in Tokyo and is the owner and mastermind behind the only sushi restaurant in the world with the coveted 3-star Michelin star rating.  Even more remarkable is that his restaurant is absolutely tiny: it seats just 10 people along a bar, facing the counter where Jiro makes his sushi (and simultaneously studies each of his customers).  Jiro’s life is so different from my own that I was very captivated by his story and almost polar-opposite way of life.  This is a man who was abandoned by his parents at the age of 9 and had to find his own way in the world.  As far as I could gather he started working in sushi restaurants around this time and basically never looked back.  He has a wife (who you never see in the film and whom Jiro mentions maybe once) and two sons: one has started his own sushi restaurant; the other works under his father.  It is emphasized in the film that Jiro works every day except national holidays and unless there is a major family emergency.  He talks about how when his sons were toddlers they saw him so rarely they thought he was a stranger.  Jiro laughs as he recounts this story but I was horrified.  This is a work ethic on a whole new level: this is an obsession.  The film I think does a good job of telling the story of Jiro without being too biased. While he is lauded for being an absolute sushi genius, Jiro is simultaneously portrayed as a man who has a very singular vision: to reach perfection.  I came out of the film feeling sorry for his children, who weren’t allowed to go to college in order to become sushi apprentices; for his wife who we can only assume feels lonely while her husband and sons work 15-hour days; and for Jiro himself, whose singular fixation on combining rice and fish leaves little room for appreciating other things life might have to offer.  But then, (aside from how it affects his wife and children) how can I fault a man for pursuing his life’s passion with an intensity and zeal that few of us have experienced? Indeed, aren’t determined and obsessed people like Jiro the reason we have amazing things like iPhones, space travel, polio vaccines, and great literature? I woke up pondering the film, flip-flopping between feeling sorry for Jiro and jealously wishing that I loved something that much.  I highly recommend this film especially if you love sushi and beautiful photography/cinematography. I also loved it because the soundtrack is full of gorgeous classical music: the Tchaikovsky violin concerto; Unaccompanied Bach; Philip Glass.  See it if you can find it!  I doubt it will be in theatres much longer.

Catching Fire and Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins

I’ve just emerged from the world of the Hunger Games, after having read all three books over about 2 weeks.  The level of immersion I experienced can only be compared to the Harry Potter series and no doubt the two have been compared many times.  Beyond a doubt I enjoyed Harry Potter more.  But there is something very compelling about the Hunger Games and after I finished the last book, the story really weighed on me.  After pondering this for awhile I decided that the reason I liked Harry Potter more is that it is a better escape: you are taken to a magical wizarding world where there is an evil force to be destroyed.  The weightiness I experienced from the Hunger Games stems from the story being a bit too real.  In Harry Potter there is absolute good (embodied by Harry) and absolute evil (Voldemort); Snape definitely helps us challenge that abject dualism but in the end it is all resolved.  This is not the case in the Hunger Games.  Katniss is not absolutely good; the Capitol is not absolutely bad and there are various states of in between amongst all the characters.  Horrific things happen in the Hunger Games (I actually had some very bad dreams involving some of the events) and good does not always win over evil.  Through these books, Suzanne Collins is making some very powerful (if not subtle) observations about modern life, including selfishness, repression (i.e. First Nations reservations in Canada or the relationship between rich and poor countries), and perhaps even the unquestioning, robotic way in which we live our lives.  Above all she critiques spectacle: watching other people suffer as a form of entertainment, as in reality TV.  I am still astonished that this is a book written for young adults as Collins presents an extremely pessimistic view of the world, not to mention the highly disturbing subject matter and events that take place throughout the series.  But between all the fast-paced action, the story does make you think.  You wonder about the actions of the character and begin to see how violence affects the character’s mental state.  I think this book could have been written for adults with some language change – near the end I will admit to being fairly irritated with Katniss’s near-constant self-pitying first-person narration.  I’m glad Collins kept it to a trilogy.  But in the end I think this is a must-read series of books for adults in particular.

A Separation

I’ve been waiting to see A Separation for a couple months, after having seen the previews numerous times at our local theatre.  This despite it being one of those previews where you feel you’re being told the entire story (you aren’t!).  There’s just something intriguing about seeing an Iranian film; being given a glimpse into a society that I perceive as utterly different from ours in Canada.  For various reasons I ended up not seeing the film until last night, while visiting my sister and brother-in-law in Morristown, NJ.  I have to admit that I was not expecting to find a theatre playing an Iranian film, even if it was Oscar winning.  I regret waiting so long to see it.  The film was captivating both in its story and in its foreign-ness.  Because it centres around a crime, we are given a view into how the judicial system works in Iran (hint: very differently than Canada’s).  We also begin to understand the role that religion plays in everyday affairs, not that this was such a big surprise to me.  What was more surprising I think was actually how much more secular Iran is than I was expecting.   Later I pondered whether the film would have been as engrossing had the story been set in Canada, nevermind that things would have unfolded differently.  I think that it would not have been as great.  About 60% of the film consists of character sketches and these are brilliant.  But the remaining 30% of the greatness of this film is due, in my opinion, to its fascinating setting.  The ending of the film, while frustrating, will likely keep a discussion going amongst your friends long after you have left the theatre.  Definitely worth seeing!

The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins

I should have read this book about two years ago when my friend Alana told me about it; it would be much less of a cliché had I written this review then, instead of now!  The reason I did not immediately search out a copy of the book as per Alana’s recommendation was that the recommendation came along with a warning. “This book is disturbing,” I believe she said (Alana, correct me if I’m wrong?).  Disturbing or not, she loved it.  But I am a chicken.  Disturbing things give me nightmares.  I can barely bring myself to talk about The Road (which I only managed to read half of).  So it was with great apprehension that I ordered myself a copy of The Hunger Games about a month ago, as hype for the movie was just building.  I love Harry Potter and that kind of pop culture and I like to be at least somewhat current on the trends.  After about 20 pages of The Hunger Games, I honestly wasn’t sure I’d be able to finish it.  Who wouldn’t find the premise disturbing? A futuristic world where a yearly ‘reaping’ results in 24 teenagers chosen to fight each other to the death, for the (mandatory) viewing pleasure of the rest of the population? Very grim indeed.  If the Hunger Games had been written by Stephen King I would not have read past page 20.  However the knowledge that this is a kids’ book, after all, led me to suspect that it likely would not be too gory, or too disturbing, and that the main character(s?) probably wouldn’t die.  Two other hooks kept me reading: I genuinely liked the main character, Katniss, whose first-person voice narrates the story.  The other hook was that I desperately wanted to know what point the author was trying to make.  I was certain that there was some powerful allegory underlying the disturbing premise.  However in losing myself completely in The Hunger Games (it took me 3 days to read it; probably a total of 5 hours) I totally forgot to ponder the possible allegorical dimension.  I just had to know what happened.  Immediately.  It was a Globe and Mail article published the day after I finished the book that revealed the cleverness of The Hunger Games and I felt like an idiot for not having seen it sooner.  It is obvious if you take the time to think about it as you read.  But good luck: this is a gripping read and I suspect that like me, you will turn the pages as quickly as possible, giving yourself little time for reflection.

Pina

I know virtually nothing about modern dance (or really any dance for that matter) yet I was eager to see the documentary Pina, about the eponymous German choreographer, because the previews were so intriguing.  Maybe you have seen them? No spoken words, just scenes of dancers in odd places, doing odd things.  I didn’t really know what to expect from this film, but the opening 15 minutes clinched it for me.  I recognized the  haunting bassoon solo of Stravinksi’s Rite of Spring right away and it gave me chills: possibly my all-time favourite piece of “classical” music.  I had never seen the ballet, but as it turns out (from later Wikipedia research) that Pina’s choreography for Rite of Spring was one of the defining pieces of her career.  It was primal, raw, and perfect: for me, this choreography brought the Rite of Spring to life in a way that just listening to it on recording (or playing it as part of a symphony) could never do.  (Watch a bit of it here, if you’re interested.)  You would think that after such a brilliant opening, the film would go downhill, and admittedly it did have its clear lower moments (I do not even pretend to understand the fairly disturbing Cafe Muller).  But other bits of the film were mesmerizing and surreal: dancers dancing beside what looks like a section of a very large quarry, at the grassy side of a very busy intersection, underneath a suspension bridge, in a glass house.  After the Rite of Spring though my favourite piece took place on and around the very cool hangy-down monorail thingy (yes, its official name) in the city of Wuppertal, Germany, which I didn’t even know existed before I saw Pina.  I will grant that this film is definitely not for everybody.  For whatever reason it totally captivated me, despite very little explanation of the choreography and the symbolism behind the pieces.  I actually think that such an addition would detract from the almost dream-like feel of the film: it turns out you don’t need to overthink everything. Sometimes it’s just about feeling.

People of a Feather

People of a Feather is a documentary that simultaneously explores the lifestyles of the Inuit people living around Hudson Bay, how hydroelectric projects are affecting this part of the world, and the intricate relationships between the ice, the eider duck, and the Inuit people.   Most of the film takes place from the point of view of one Inuit family, who we follow as they spend time together, hunt, prepare their gear, and travel across the ice.  Interspersed with this present day perspective are re-enacted scenes of how the Inuit would have lived about 100 years ago, before contact.  Remarkably these scenes are only slightly quaint, and actually feel quite real. The filmmaker, Joel Heath, is a biologist studying the eider duck and their feeding habits.  The only time we see him is in a small wooden hut, perched at the edge of an ice floe, where he spends his days monitoring the ducks via  above-ground and underwater cameras.  The video that he captures is stunning: the ducks diving deep below the ice to the sea floor to retrieve urchins and mussels from the bottom.  The whole film is one part educational, as we learn about how the Inuit and the ducks survive in such a harsh climate; and one part deeply sad as we watch how the effects of hydroelectric dams are crippling the ability of both the ducks and the people survive.  One of the most emotional parts of the film is the silent video footage of eider ducks slowly dying as the ice closes in around them and they are unable to dive to feed.  Overall a fascinating and beautiful film that should be required viewing for anyone who unequivocally supports large hydroelectric projects.

Unrecipe: Lemon Meringue Pie or How Not to Make a Lemon Meringue Pie

Yes, unrecipe. I realize this is not a word, but in giving a lemon meringue pie recipe, I want to describe chiefly what NOT to do.  Also, because (as you may have guessed) my foray into the world of lemon meringue was ill-fated and so the recipe did not actually get completed.  This is not due the recipe itself but moreso because sometimes I am an idiot. So here are the following steps on how not to make a lemon meringue pie, followed by the correct way.

1. When cheating on making a pie crust (which I do frequently: Whole Foods has an incredible crust for $4 that tastes homemade) DO NOT just thoughtlessly chuck the crust into the oven to bake it.  The middle will rise up like a hot air balloon and you will be left with a slimy, depleted, pathetic-looking crust.  In desperation I tried to pull up the sides of the crust (which had oozed down the sides to rest in a pool in the middle of the pan), but to no avail.  An emergency call to my husband, Philip, who was at Safeway resulted in a new, albeit inferior, frozen crust (Safeway brand), with which to start again.  Reading the directions on the back, I realized my error the first time around: prick the damn crusts with a fork so that the steam can escape; this will prevent the hot air balloon effect.

2. The next step after fixing the pie crust is to make the lemon custard.  This went reasonably well.  You mix 5tbsp cornstarch with 1 1/4 cups of sugar and 1 1/2 cups of water in a saucepan.  Next you whisk in 5 egg yolks and whisk constantly over low heat for 5 minutes.  Then up the heat to medium, and continue whisking for 5 more minutes.  You will see when the batter suddenly changes and becomes quite thick, smooth, and glossy.  This needs to be strained through a sieve.  Then you stir in a pinch of salt, 1/2 cup lemon juice, 1 tbsp lemon zest, and 2 tbsp butter.  This mixture you pour straight into the pie shell.

This next part is critical in not ruining your beloved pie: do NOT put the pie in the oven!  Nowhere in the recipe does it say to do this and under no circumstances should you believe this to be a good idea.  It is not.  Last Sunday however, the pie went into the oven for 15 minutes, while I happily cleaned up my mess, in anticipation of making the meringue.  The timer went off and I looked in the oven: the pie looked a bit like a yellow swamp, with eggy lily pads floating on top of a murky pond.  I quickly scanned the recipe for instructions on when to take the pie out of the oven.  To my horror I of course quickly realized my error.  In a panic I yanked the pie out of the oven and stared at it, willing it to cool down and just be ok.  After it had cooled enough, I put it into the fridge, in a last ditch effort to reverse the damage.

While I waited for the pie to go back in time about 20 minutes before the oven incident, I calmly prepared the ingredients for the meringue portion of the recipe, which we would take over to our friends’ apartment and finish there (the pie was to be the pièce de résistance at our friends’ Oscars party).  An hour later, Philip and I looked at the pie.  A miracle had occurred! It had thickened up and was no longer swamp-like! I couldn’t believe our good fortune!  We decided a nap would be the best way to celebrate.

Upon waking we packed up for the 15-minute walk to the party.  On the way over Philip noticed that ominously, something was dripping down my leg.  Since I was carrying the pie, we both knew this did not bode well.  He took over carrying the drippy swamp pie and I tried to suck lemon curd out of my mittens.  We arrived at the party, immediately apologizing for the state of our dessert, but thought that we might just get away with a mediocre lemon meringue pie this time around.

The final, critical step in not f-ing up a lemon meringue pie:  when planning on making meringue in your friends’ kitchen, it is essential that you do not forget your egg whites.  When Philip and I got up to go make the meringue, the realization that our egg whites were sitting forgotten in our fridge made my stomach sink.  Our friends had made devilled eggs as an appetizer for the evening and I knew straight away that borrowing 5 eggs was not going to be possible.  The only solution? Serve meringue-less, leaky lemon curd pie.  As we cut into it, a yellow yolky goo oozed out.  Appetizing.  We served it anyway.  Everyone made polite remarks like, “It’s not that bad!” “I think it’s delicious!” but I will say with the utmost confidence that it was that bad and it was not delicious.

In the interest of actually keeping this post somewhat reminiscent of a recipe, here’s how I would have made the meringue, had I remembered the critical ingredient of egg whites:

Whip 5 egg whites with 1/2 tsp of cream of tartar, until foamy.  While whipping, gradually pour in 5 tbsp of sugar and whip until stiff peaks form.  Whisk in 1 tbsp of cornstarch and spoon this mixture onto top of pie.  Bake pie for 10 minutes at 350F.  Consume.

I have no doubt this would have been delicious, as the recipe is from my favourite dessert cookbook, Sugar.  If I actually get up the courage to try this pie again, I will post an update and let you know how it was.

Hugo

Hugo is an enjoyable film with the added bonus of beautiful cinematography and that cool 1930s French aesthetic.  I think I was a bit too excited to see the film as I have to admit to being disappointed with the end product.  A touch more editing may have solved this problem: not even Scorsese has any business putting out a kids’ movie that is over 2 hours long.  Most adults (ie. me)  get antsy in most films after about 90 mins.  Also, even most children are aware that French people living in France do not speak with British accents.  Although it doesn’t make a whole lot more sense that everyone would speak English with a heavy French accent, I think for a kids’ movie where you can’t have subtitles, this is probably the  only way to reconcile the problem of having an anglophone film set in France.  All that being said, the story is entertaining although I couldn’t quite get past the feeling that I was watching a version of The Artist again (I can’t really blame Hugo for this though).  The child actors are brilliant and my friends and I were relieved that Sacha Baron Cohen didn’t do anything stupid.  I confess to really liking 3D movies and I settle right into the effects – several friends though found the 3D to be way too much had felt they needed a break (executed by closing one eye only so as not to miss any of the action).  All in all a good film that probably won’t exceed your expectations.  See it if you have a clock obsession or a 1930s France obsession.