Reviews

"Judy Berlin" is the rare type of film that feels oddly incomplete yet succeeds in doing exactly what it set out to do. Essentially a character study of the often eccentric yet unsatisfied and lonely denizens of an unnamed New York town, "Judy Berlin" is often depressing yet undeniably effective at presenting harsh reality.

Though the film generally centers on David Gold (Aaron Harnick), a failed Hollywood filmmaker, and Judy Berlin (Edie Falco), an upbeat yet naive aspiring actress, "Judy Berlin" makes a point of avoiding any sort of Hollywood conventions one typically sees in a film. Conversations between characters are painfully awkward, statements are made that make little sense, and there are few moments that could be described as satisfying, especially to viewers that are accustomed to films treating their audience with a clearly happy ending. In a way, "Judy Berlin" is a simulated documentary, exploring reality as it is, not as the cheerful and sorrow-free farce that Hollywood often presents. In this film, the characters are all clearly lonely and often depressed, and in multiple cases, that never truly gets resolved. "Judy Berlin" is content with simply showing its players admitting their sorrows to themselves and agreeing to overcome them, rather than having those sorrows magically vanish. At one point during a conversation between Judy and David, he tells her about how he had always wanted to make a documentary about their town. Not in an embellished fashion, but rather an utterly real depiction that simply shows, as he puts it, what exists when no one is looking. In a sense, that is exactly what "Judy Berlin" is. It's a film about people. It's a film about characters and their day-to-day struggles: marital issues, depression, senility, loneliness, etc. It's a film that occupies itself with exploring nothing but the intricacies of people and the issues they both face and choose not to face.

The solar eclipse that the film's progression revolves around is an interesting touch, both visually and symbolically. Solar eclipses typically last no more than seven minutes or so, yet the sun in "Judy Berlin" vanishes behind a particularly foreboding water tower and remains there throughout the second half of the film. Alice Gold (Madeline Kahn) notes this to her housekeeper Carol (Novella Nelson), admitting that while she knows very little about eclipses, she is sure of that fact that they usually don't last this long. The matter is brought up very little after that conversation, as if the characters have come to terms with the permanent presence of both the eclipse and the struggles it seems to represents in their lives.

This eclipse is an interesting element in that its appearance seems to trigger a series of personal revelations in each of the residents of "Judy Berlin"-ville. Though an element of unhappiness is clearly present in the lives of each character throughout their brightly-lit morning, they often choose to ignore it. Once the eclipse occurs and the town is cast into darkness, each character abruptly admits their insecurities and sorrows to themselves and those close to them. By doing away with the optimistic shield that is daylight, the eclipse similarly breaks down the emotional barriers within the characters of "Judy Berlin", forcing them to realize that avoiding their deepest concerns does nothing to stave them off.

The eclipse also has an interesting effect on the film's cinematography. Shot in black-and-white, "Judy Berlin" is already stark before its main event, but the sunlight makes everything easy to see and there is no room for secrets or surprises. Following the eclipse, the town becomes a dark place where making out just about anything, even faces during a conversation, is difficult. Multiple characters repeatedly note that "the streetlights are on" in a manner that suggests they find it comforting, yet these streetlights are rarely visible and often provide very little light. In a way, this seems to reflect the emotional states of the townspeople. Prior to the eclipse, trouble was present for all of them, but it could be brushed to the side as everything seemed clear and visible. Following the eclipse, they are cast into emotional turmoil where almost nothing is clear and a level of unease is a constant presence.

The confrontation of reality that the second half of "Judy Berlin" revolves around is bleak, yet utterly real in that each character quietly comes to terms with their own woes. After Alice and Carol become "space explorers" in their street, parade around for a while, and have a particularly awkward meeting with Alice's neighbor Maddie (Carlin Glynn), Arthur Gold (Bob Dishy) returns from work. Despite the obvious marital difficulties the Golds are going through, Alice seems delighted to have him home and is fully prepared to continue the farce that is their happy relationship. Unexpectedly however, he drives off again. All at once, Alice drops her act.

"My husband just left me," she says quietly to Maddie and Carol.

It's a brutal collision with reality that creates a moment more tender than most blockbusters could ever dream of, and it's only furthered by what immediately follows it. After Alice says goodbye to Maddie and walks back home with Carol, she invites her housekeeper to wander around with her some more. Carol kindly but firmly turns her down, telling her that it is 3:00, she is finished working for the afternoon, and she has to go home to her daughter. Driving away, she leaves Alice alone in the street. For a character that frequently daydreams about being young again, it's another harsh reminder of reality for Alice, who, as much as she wants to play "space explorers" with her friends, has to consider that she and her friends are all grown up now and have lives to live and obligations to attend to. Finally dropping her act once and for all, she wanders off down the street by herself for a bit of melancholic yet finally authentic self-reflection.

David and Judy have a similar confrontation with reality after their afternoon "date." Frustrated with Judy's lack of seriousness in regards to her move to Hollywood, David tells her that Hollywood will be different from her acting classes, and criticizes her for not admitting to herself that Hollywood is a harsh world where she will find little hospitality or kindness. Hurt, she walks away. David calls out to her to tell her that he's just stating the facts as he sees them. Rather than ignoring him or lying to both David and herself once again, Judy simply turns and responds:

"I know."

For a character that seems to thrive off of unbridled optimism and denial of the harshness of life, it's a heartbreaking yet completely necessary moment for Judy and marks a significant turning point for both her and the rest of her town.

Having just finished Madeline Kahn's biography, I read quite a lot about "Judy Berlin" and Alice Gold, which many of Kahn's fans consider to be her finest performance. Having now watched it for myself, I firmly agree. It makes me especially happy to see that, as an actress with immense comedic talent but a desire for dramatic roles, she finally got the kind of role she truly wanted before she died. While I wouldn't go as far as to say that I love "Judy Berlin", I truly appreciate it for confronting the hard truth that reality can often be. In a world where movies often present us with the reality we want rather than the one we have, writer-director Eric Mendelsohn truly created a film that does exactly the opposite: it shows us what reality is, and nothing else. No fluff, no icing on top; just the hard truth. That is something that everyone should see, no matter how unpleasant it can be.

I honestly don't even know where to begin with "Picnic at Hanging Rock." It's one of the most intricate, symbolic, and bizarre films I have ever seen. Much like its central mystery, the film eludes explanation, representing a question that cannot and, I suppose, should not be answered. It's an unusual amalgamation of a Victorian period piece, a metaphysical exploration, and a coming-of-age story. In any other hands, that would be extremely difficult to pull off. Thankfully, Joan Lindsay and Peter Weir are perfect for the job.

Because of the film's staggering intricacy, I'd like to discuss each of the themes I noted individually. These themes may not be the same ones others have noticed, which is honestly to be expected. "Picnic at Hanging Rock" is heavily symbolic, and screams "subjective interpretation" like nothing I've ever seen before.

First, I'd like to cover the theme most discussed and frankly most obvious: sexual repression and release. As many reviewers and analysts have said before, Hanging Rock appears to symbolize sexual awakening and a release from strict Victorian values. The girls at Appleyard College are constantly bound in heavy dresses, gloves, and stockings, even on a day as hot as St. Valentine's (though you may remove your gloves once the carriage has passed through Woodend, as Mrs. Appleyard so eloquently reminds them). It's an incredibly repressive society that surrounds the girls, and Hanging Rock represents an escape from that. As Miranda, Marion, and Irma climb higher and higher on the rock, shoes and stockings are shed and left behind. The shot of Irma dancing on the rock and framed by the sky will always be one of my favorite scenes from any film. We later learn that Mrs. McCraw, who also climbed the rock, was seen without a skirt on during her unnoticed ascent. Edith however, who is younger and notably disinterested by the rock, does no such thing and is vocal about her hatred of the rock. It's as if she isn't ready to break free of this society yet and is almost disgusted by the idea.

As I said, Hanging Rock symbolizes an escape from this oppressive society. As the girls climb higher and higher, the escape further and further from the restrictions of their lives. Miranda appears almost giddy as she looks up towards the summit, reminding the others that they must turn back eventually but always continuing higher nevertheless. The two moments where the girls suddenly become dazed and fall asleep during their ascent seem to almost represent a transition between these "levels" of escape. After each reawakening, Miranda, Marion, and Irma appear even more enraptured by Hanging Rock. Eventually, as if in a trance, they disappear altogether, having fully transcended their oppressive society. Irma, the only girl to eventually return (or be returned) is in a sense unrecognizable to her former classmates after her reappearance. She has transcended this restrictive existence but eventually returned, carrying some of that with her. During a final meeting with her classmates at a dance lesson, she is wearing a bright red dress, which as many analysts have pointed out, is a huge contrast to the white dresses worn by her classmates and formerly herself. After an extremely uncomfortable silence in which her classmates seem to be unnerved by her presence, they fall upon her, screaming and demanding to know what happened up on Hanging Rock. Irma rushes away and is never seen again, unable or unwilling to answer.

Another theme of the film which I find quite fascinating is the collision of Western society and ancient indigenous cultures which are so poorly understood by the relatively new arrivals. In a land as spiritually unconquered as Australia, the European immigrants of this era are woefully unknowledgeable and naive towards the legends and cultures they have tried to dominate. Hanging Rock is a physical manifestation of these spiritual legends, and is a place that cannot be conquered by the Western trespassers who have no understanding of it. In that manner, Hanging Rock has a sentient, almost malevolent presence, which is exacerbated by the apparent faces visible in the rock. Whether you see Hanging Rock as helping the girls escape or stealing them away is a matter of opinion, but you cannot deny that it is extremely foreboding (It's worth noting that even executive producer Patricia Lovell was afraid of Hanging Rock and refuses to go back to this day). Michael, the boy who finds himself fascinated by Miranda (I mean who doesn't) is another victim of Hanging Rock's unbounded spiritual nature. In his search for Miranda and the others up on the rock, he is seemingly confronted by a force that is too overwhelming for him to accept or understand. Albert later finds him on the rock, nearly catatonic and surrounded by the unreachable voices of those he is looking for. Some people simply aren't ready for what lies within Hanging Rock.

A final major theme which I find noteworthy is the profound sense of loss present in the film. Though Hanging Rock does serve as a sort of escape for Miranda, Marion, and Irma, their disappearance leaves behind a large hole in the lives of those around them, chiefly Sara, Michael, Mlle. de Poitiers, and Mrs. Appleyard. The sudden loss of Miranda is devastating for Sara, who loved Miranda and saw her as the only friend she had. Over the course of the film, she becomes increasingly depressive and isolated, lying still for hours on end and presumably trying to find answers for questions that don't have any. This eventually culminates with Mrs. Appleyard informing her that due to her overdue tuition, she is being returned to the orphanage she was so desperate to escape from in the first place. Eventually, she is found in the greenhouse, having apparently jumped from the roof in an effort to find the only escape she thought she had left. Our learning that Albert is her long-lost brother only rubs salt on the wound, as it means that she was so close to potentially finding happiness. But like Miranda, it was just too far out of reach.

Michael has a similar reaction to Miranda's sudden disappearance. He spends much of the following days and weeks searching for her on and near Hanging Rock, hoping to find a missing girl that he never even spoke to. His efforts are fruitless and he nearly meets his own demise on the rock, but is saved by Albert. His story is at least bittersweet, as he eventually departs Victoria in an effort to leave that profound loss behind. Mlle. de Poitiers has a similar departure, grieving over the loss of Miranda, Marion, and Mrs. McCraw but moving on and hopefully finding peace. Unfortunately, Mrs. Appleyard has no such luck. With the loss of two students, the departure of many more, and the disappearance of Mrs. McCraw whom she heavily relied on, she spirals into severe grief and begins to lose touch with reality. She becomes increasingly distant to the remaining faculty and students, and eventually accepts the demise of Appleyard College. An epilogue informs us that she perished in an apparent attempt to climb Hanging Rock, likely hoping to find comfort or answers in a place that had neither to offer.

Now enough with the themes, because those can be fairly depressing. Let's talk about THE Miranda. Miranda is a fascinating character played by a fascinating actress. Anne-Louise Lambert, who was and still is absolutely beautiful, portrayed her in such a unique fashion that one can't help but be fascinated by her. She played the character so well that even Joan Lindsay (the author of the original novel) called her Miranda. She has a manner that is simultaneously worldly and ethereal, and has a sincere spirituality to her that is evident from the very beginning of the film. Her odd phrasing of "I won't be here much longer" in her conversation with Sara almost seems to indicate that she is aware of her impending transcendence. Later at the picnic, she, Marion, Irma, and Edith venture off to the rock with permission from Mlle. de Poitiers, who Miranda turns and gives one last wave to. To de Poitiers, it's only a temporary goodbye. After all, they promised to be back soon. Miranda on the other hand seems more sincere in her goodbye, taking one final look at her classmates and friends before turning away forever. It's almost as if she knows what will happen on Hanging Rock but accepts it for what it is. As she says mere minutes before her disappearance:

"Everything begins... and ends... at exactly the right time and place."

Aside from Miranda, part of what makes "Picnic at Hanging Rock" so magical is its constant ethereal quality, not only during the events on the rock but also before and after. The picnic scene is especially interesting, as it appears so otherworldly onscreen, both hazy and sunlit. Cinematographer Russell Boyd reportedly accomplished this by placing a bridal veil over the camera, and it works WONDERS. That is possibly one of the most genius moves I've heard of in cinematic history, so hats off to him for coming up with that. His effort combined with that of director Peter Weir truly created a marvel of a film, and its comes as no surprise that so many viewers are totally captivated by it.

In the end, I suppose all I can say is that "Picnic at Hanging Rock" is a film that everyone should see, if only to help you understand that some questions simply don't have or require answers. Both the film and its story completely defy any explanation, and its an exercise in what I suppose you could call "mystical filmmaking." It's an incredibly subjective film that leaves everything from the plot itself to character motivations up to the viewer to decide. Whatever you decide in the end, it cannot be denied that "Picnic at Hanging Rock," much like Hanging Rock itself, is something truly special.

Personally, I find that every time I watch "Doctor Strange," I enjoy it slightly more than I did before. I suppose it comes down to my belief that "Doctor Strange" is far more rooted in reality than many other Marvel movies. Whereas many others have storylines that audiences and humanity in general cannot exactly relate to, "Doctor Strange" (simply put) follows a man who loses his way. After a bad car accident, Dr. Stephen Strange finds that he is unable to continue his work as a surgeon, and essentially spirals into despair. He eventually finds salvation in the mystic arts, finally understanding that the world does not revolve around him and becoming involved in a battle to save Earth. In terms of Marvel stories, that is fairly simplistic.

Let me make myself clear: "Doctor Strange" is in no way a simple movie. Many scenes (especially those in the mirror dimension) are some of the trippiest scenes to ever grace a Marvel title. We're talking "Inception"-level chaos. What I mean is that the story itself is fairly simplistic, which allows audiences to sympathize with Strange. Almost everyone has had or will have a crisis of faith. It's something we can understand, and I think that makes "Doctor Strange" a very solid film.

On another note, the characters and cast in this movie are spot-on. Benedict Cumberbatch is literally PERFECT at being an arrogant neurosurgeon-turned Master of the Mystic Arts, Rachel McAdams is perfect as the down-to-Earth and often extremely confused Christine, and Benedict Wong is wonderful as... Wong. Huh. I never noticed they had the same name. Anyways, they're all hilarious in some way. Tilda Swinton (The Ancient One) and Mads Mikkelsen (Kaecilius) are more serious in tone, but both still have marvelous performances. I won't really mention Mordo, because he's a little annoying (even though I suppose that's purposeful). Chiwetel Ejiofor still does a great job of playing him though.

So overall, I really enjoy "Doctor Strange" nowadays. I suppose its more realistic approach to characters was a little off-putting to me at first, but I think I've warmed up to it.

This is one of my all-time favorite episodes from the show. It's another good "menace in a small community" episode, but it's also hilarious. I've speculated for a while what it would be like if Mulder and Scully settled down together. Well, here we have it. Mulder loves every minute of it; Scully hates it with a passion. Some of their conversations are the funniest things to come out of the whole show! "Woman go make me a sandwich" might be one of the funniest lines from the entire show (only next to "Alex Trebek, the game show host!?"). Some close runners-up are "poopy head" and Mulder's detailed description of how superstitious "Laura" is. Scully literally looks like she wants to kill Mulder for nearly the entire episode. I loved every minute of it.

Comedy aside, the plot was decent but not amazing. A suburban monster made out of garbage wreaks havoc on unsuspecting couples who've violated the homeowner's rulebook. So, not the best idea I've seen, but it was fun. I like how we never got a clear look at the monster. The times where it's hunting people in their homes are very, very creepy. So it had a fair amount of scares too. There was also a surprising amount of blood in these 45 minutes. When garbage golem attacks people, there is a LOT of blood splattered about. Like seriously, it goes full-on "Friday the 13th." Yeesh.

So yeah, I had a lot to say about this episode. I really loved it. It's very character-centric; most of the actual X-File plot is pushed to the back. That isn't necessarily a bad thing, it's just unusual. It worked quite well in this episode. It had a lot of comedy and quite a few good scares. 10/10!

This is easily the funniest "X-Files" episode I have seen so far, even surpassing the witty "War of the Coprophages." It's simultaneously a tribute to and a mockery of die-hard sci-fi that comes with hilariously random and unexpected dialogue, such as this gem:

Jose Chung: I don't know which was more disturbing, his description of the inner core reincarnated souls' sex orgy, or the fact that the whole thing was written in screenplay format.

I love it! The episode as a whole is extremely unpredictable, which adds to its hilarity. Other amazing moments include Mulder's "girly scream" as described by an eyewitness, Alex Trebek as a Man in Black, and every swear being replaced by a straight-faced "bleep." It's honestly hard not to love this episode. There is still a decently intriguing plot for those who are paying attention, so the episode is definitely much more than a gag. Overall, this is one of if not my favorite "X-Files" episode that I have seen thus far.