The Mirror

1975 time travel movie

Rating: 18/20

Plot: A guy who may or may not be married to his own mother has his life flash before his eyes while he lies on his deathbed.

I should start off by confessing that I have no business writing about this movie. A lot of people who have stumbled upon my little blog probably wonder if I have business writing about any movie. The Mirror is a tough one to write about because it's in a different language. I'm not talking linguistically here although this is in Russian and I did have difficult reading the subtitles because I didn't really want to force my eyes away from doing their job of soaking in everything on the screen. Words were almost distracting in The Mirror. But I'm talking about the language of film. This is almost otherworldly in its storytelling, shifting from the past to the earlier past to the present in ways that make it difficult on the soul. You have to allow yourself to drift, admire the shots that seem like they're borrowed from paintings, and appreciate Tarkovsky's ability to make you feel--even if you don't completely understand--through visuals. There are all these perfectly little orchestrated shot sequences, awe-inspiring. And Tarkovsky is one of those rare directors who can make the wind blow and make birds land on top of kids' heads. It's like he's making magic instead of making a movie. There was some narrated poetry which was tough for me because I wasn't smart enough to understand it, and at times this thing seemed so personal to its creator that I had a little trouble connecting, at least on a superficial level. But then there were shots I couldn't get out of my head as I went to sleep after watching this, and I realized that this is the type of movie that you understand in ways you don't understand. One of those is a shot of Margarita Terekhova--the actress who plays both the mother and the wife in this, a choice Tarkovsky made because, I assume, he wanted to confuse me even more--after she kills a chicken. She stares a haunting stare at the viewer from another time. Time, time, time. That's what this movie is about. Past, movie present, the future when the audience is watching the movie. The final five or ten minutes of this thing has at least two of those coming together so effortlessly and so gorgeously. It's poetry on the screen.

Punching the Clown

2009 comedy

Rating: 15/20

Plot: A semi-autobiographical tale of comic singer-songwriter Henry Phillips, this follows the protagonist to L.A. where he tries to make it big and get himself a record deal. Meanwhile, he deals with his brother, love, accusations of Neo-Nazism, and being a sell-out.

This is smart and understated like I prefer my comedies. I watched it on a whim, probably because Sarah Silverman liked it and I want to impress her, and I'm happy that I did. It's not so much a mockumentary, but it's got a vibe similar to Curb Your Enthusiasm where it feels like you're just following this hapless character around as he has misadventures instead of watching a character in something more written. No, Henry Phillips doesn't have the acting chops (does Larry David?) to make it all that believable or Larry David's personality to carry the premise, but this is well written enough that it doesn't matter that much. And Larry David doesn't have a guitar. Phillips' songs all the sound the same, but at least I like his voice and they are consistently funny. As his manager, played hilariously by Ellen Ratner, says, he's like "James Taylor on smack." Loved Phillips' response to that: "But James Taylor really was on smack." I also enjoyed Phillips' rival Stupid Joe (Mark Cohen) and the cuts we get to hear from his album Let's Get Guitarded, probably enjoyed them a little more than I was supposed to actually. But c'mon, it's impossible not to laugh at "Cut loose, footloose, there goes some more brown juice," isn't it? This feels like a Phillips-penned love letter to his career, and I really enjoyed it.