IKEA sucks

By Michael J.W. Stickings

I used to shop there, I admit, back in my grad school days. But at some point you come to realize that it's all crap. And that's hardly the worst of it, at least in Danville, Virginia:

[T]hree years after the massive facility opened here, excitement has waned. Ikea is the target of racial discrimination complaints, a heated union-organizing battle and turnover from disgruntled employees.

Workers complain of eliminated raises, a frenzied pace and mandatory overtime. Several said it's common to find out on Friday evening that they'll have to pull a weekend shift, with disciplinary action for those who can't or don't show up.

Lovely.

On a related note, I saw Made in Dagenham the other night, the true story (with the characters fictionalized for the sake of the movie) of women machinists at Ford's Dagenham plant in England going on strike in 1968 over being reclassified as "unskilled" and being paid significantly less than men. It wasn't just about their appallingly poor treatment at Ford, though, it was about the fight for equal pay generally, and it was a remarkable milestone in the history of labour.

The movie itself is rather trite and formulaic, both plot and characters, but it's really enjoyable, with a fantastic performance by Sally Hawkins as the shy, unassuming heroine who leads her sisters not just against Ford but against the male-dominated union establishment. (I hated Black Swan and Natalie Portman's showy, largely one-note performance. Either the wonderful Hawkins (see Happy-Go-Lucky for more wonder) or Winter's Bone's Jennifer Lawrence should have won the Best Actress Oscar.)

In many ways, we have come a long way since 1968. Equal pay across the board is still an unrealized ideal, but at least there is less discrimination in the workforce, against women or otherwise. But what's going on at IKEA, not to mention at Wal-Mart and other companies big and small, shows that there's still an awfully long way to go.

Some things are still worth fighting for.

A worthy look back at the Oscars

By Michael J.W. Stickings

No real surprises -- where there any at all? -- in what was a horrendously bad show (with some incredibly bad hosting, especially the not-quite-there James Franco and the awkward Anne Hathaway, though it surely had a lot to do with some even worse writing). Maybe the main surprise is that it was that bad, which is to say, even worse than usual.

I amused myself by tweeting excessively.

And that's really all I have to say. I haven't seen all the major contenders yet, but it was, from what I could tell, a crappy year for Hollywood. And that was reflected tonight.

The King's Speech? Okay, fine, but I doubt anyone will look back on it years from now and say, "Wow, that's a historically great film." (Not that Oscars really reward historical greatness, mind you.)

I mentioned my favourite movies of 2010 -- movies I saw for the first time in 2010 -- a while back. I'd still go with Sacha Guitry's wonderful The Story of a Cheat (1936), released in an Eclipse set by Criterion. For "new" movies in 2010, I'd go with the restored, complete Metropolis (on Blu-ray), Fritz Lang's stunning 1927 masterpiece. To that list I'd like to add Michael Haneke's marvellous (and deeply troubling) The White Ribbon (2009).

As for new 2010 movies, I found most of the big ones highly overrated: The Social Network, Toy Story 3, Inception.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World was a lot of fun, but I'd say Winter's Bone was the best, pending others, like Black Swan and The Fighter (which I highly doubt are better), I'll see when they're out on video.

And that's that. It was a terrible show, and none of the major winners, however genuinely deserving (Colin Firth in particular, with a performance, and a role, that was Oscar-perfect -- overcoming a disability, a lot of emoting), really jumped out for me.

I wish I could say it can only get better from here, but I was also saying that during the show, and then out came Celine Dion.

And now I need to get to bed.

June 5, 1985 -- the day Ferris Bueller took off

By Michael J.W. Stickings

Larry Granillo of Baseball Prospectus has figured out that the Cubs game Ferris, Cameron, and Sloane attend in the great Ferris Bueller's Day Off took place on June 5, 1985, a 4-2 loss to the Braves. (Although they, or rather the actors playing them, may have been filmed at Wrigley Field at a later time and then edited into the game footage.)

Interesting stuff, to those of us who love the movie.

Go to the 2:17 mark:

A conflicted life ends -- Last Tango in Paris actress Maria Schneider dead at 58

By J. Thomas Duffy

It was quite a surprise to see the name of actress Maria Schneider in the obit column today.

As much for remembering the long-ago crush, as for how long she has been out of the news, the limelight dimmed for quite some time.

Last Tango in Paris

Maria Schneider, Brando's "Last Tango" costar

Ms. Schneider died yesterday in Paris "following a long illness," a representative of the Act 1 talent agency said, but declined to provide details.

Ms. Schneider was 19 when she starred opposite Brando in Bernardo Bertolucci's racy "Last Tango in Paris." In it, she played Jeanne, a young Parisian woman who takes up with a middle-aged American businessman, played by Brando.

Full of explicit sex scenes, "Last Tango" was banned in Italy for obscenity for nearly two decades, returning to cinemas there only in 1989. In the United States, the movie still has an NC-17 rating for its sexual content, meaning it can't be seen by children under 17 years of age.

I'm quite sure anyone over the age of 18 back in 1972 either (A) flocked to the movies to see the film Last Tango in Paris, or (B) was aware of the controversy surrounding its explicit sex scenes, or (C) rushed to the record store to get the smoking soundtrack featuring the great saxophonist Gato Barbieri.

I indulged in A and C of the above.

In her youth, Maria Schneider was incredibly beautiful, which was likely the factor in getting her two big roles. Three years after Tango, she starred with Jack Nicholson in The Passenger).

All the obituaries mention "a long illness," which included drugs and, as a few referenced, "mental illness."

No doubt, Last Tango in Paris was perhaps the beginning of what seemed to be a troubled life:

In the film, Jeanne enters into a brief but torrid affair with a recently widowed American, played by Brando. Their erotically charged relationship, played out in an empty apartment near the Bir Hakeim Bridge in Paris, shocked audiences on the film's release in 1972, especially a scene in which Brando pins Ms. Schneider to the floor and, taking out a stick of butter, seems to perform anal intercourse on her. The Motion Picture Association of America gave the film an X rating.

The role fixed Ms. Schneider in the public mind as a figurehead of the sexual revolution, and she spent years trying to move beyond the role, and the public fuss surrounding it. "I felt very sad because I was treated like a sex symbol," she told The Daily Mail of London in 2007. "I wanted to be recognized as an actress, and the whole scandal and aftermath of the film turned me a little crazy and I had a breakdown. Now, though, I can look at the film and like my work in it."

The famous butter scene, she said, was not in the script and made it into the film only at Brando's insistence. "I felt humiliated and to be honest, I felt a little raped, both by Marlon and by Bertolucci," she said. "After the scene, Marlon didn't console me or apologize. Thankfully, there was just one take."

It still brings about a veil of sadness.

RIP Maria Schneider.

********** 

Last Tango In Paris trailer

Gato Barbieri -- Last Tango in Paris

(Cross-posted at The Garlic.)

Okay, campers, rise and shine... it's Groundhog Day!

By Michael J.W. Stickings

With yet another huge winter storm slamming parts of the U.S. and making its way to southern Ontario, where we're bracing for it in the Toronto area (I'm writing this the night before), this seems more appropriate than ever:

The Social Network

By Michael J.W. Stickings

I finally got around to watching The Social Network tonight. It's one of the biggest movies of 2010, at least in terms of critical acclaim, garnering an incredible 95 at Metacritic. It won the Golden Globe for best drama and is basically an awards juggernaut, including for its director, the generally very good David Fincher, who has been nominated for, and will likely win, the Directors Guild's top honour, a sign of things to come at the Oscars. (And I did like a couple of the performances, notably Jesse Eisenberg as Mark Zuckerberg and especially Andrew Garfield as Eduardo Saverin.

And yet, to me, it's an exceptionally boring movie about pretentious, chauvinistic douchebags. I really wanted to like it, and I was even prepared for it to be one of the defining movies of our time, insofar as it explains our time, but, as it wore on, I just didn't give a shit.

No, that's not exactly the most profound review I've ever written, but it's my immediate reaction to a grossly overhyped movie that left me not just cold but uninterested.

And it reminded me why I don't much care for Facebook (even though, like pretty much everyone else, I'm on there).

**********

(Ed. note: This post has been corrected. It originally stated that Fincher had already won the Directors Guild award. Thanks to Edward C. for the clarification.)

Guitry, Kurosawa, Lang, Wenders, Ford: My favourite movie experiences of 2010

By Michael J.W. Stickings 

As you may have heard, the Golden Globes were handed out yesterday at a look at us, we're celebrities, aren't we so special? schmooze-fest in L.A., grotesque even by the standards of awards shows.

Not that I care, though, and not that you should either.

The Golden Globes are handed out by a small cabal known as the Hollywood Foreign Press Association. It may not be as corrupt as FIFA or the IOC, but it's probably pretty close.

Honestly, do we really believe that these awards, or those who decide them, are in any way credible? That they are really about excellence in television and film?

At the very least, it seems odd -- even in Hollywood -- that such a cabal could wield such influence. Which, let's face it, is all that really matters beyond the chance for celebrities to act like celebrities on national TV, to look beautiful and bask in their own fleeting glory.

Yes, all that really matters -- and surely Ricky Gervais knows this -- is that the Golden Globes are generally seen as predictors of the far more important, if not all that much more credible, Oscars.

And this year, it would seem -- and I'll restrict myself to the movies here, as I really don't care about the TV awards -- the major Golden Globe winners are very likely the major Oscar winners:

Best Picture: The Social Network

Best Actor: Colin Firth, The King's Speech

Best Actress: Natalie Portman, Black Swan

Best Supporting Actor: Christian Bale, The Fighter

Best Supporting Actress: Melissa Leo, The Fighter

Now, to be fair, I haven't seen all that many of the contenders. I used to see most of the major releases when they came out in theaters, but now, with other priorities, I generally wait for them to appear on video. And of course there may well be a surprise or two. For example, don't rule out Toy Story 3 for Best Picture. I found it significantly less enjoyable than the first two, and far less enjoyable that Pixar's recent masterpieces, such as Wall-E, but eventually the industry is going to have to recognize the fact that Pixar makes movies of greater emotional and intellectual depth than pretty much anything else coming out of Hollywood, and there may not have been a better-reviewed film all year.

I would also note that you never quite know what's going to happen with ten Best Picture nominees, and it's possible that a blockbuster like Inception, which I disliked immensely (stupid and showy, for the most part), wins it all. Hollywood likes nothing more than success, after all.

And, again, what do I know? I haven't seen most of the major contenders yet. I'm just basing this on what I read and hear about where this awards season is heading.

I would just like to add that my favourite movie experiences of 2010 had nothing to do with any of the Golden Globe winners and likely Oscar nominees. Here they are:

-- The Criterion Collection's Presenting Sacha Guitry box set, including the absolutely wonderful The Story of a Cheat (1936). Honestly, one of the best movies I've ever seen, from a generally unknown director on this side of the Atlantic but one of France's finest.

(I would add that I'm halfway (two of four) through Criterion's The First Films of Akira Kurosawa box set. I've seen most of the master's later and more famous films, but these are simply a revelation.)

-- The complete Metropolis, released by Kino, the definitive version, carefully reconstructed of Fritz Lang's silent 1927 masterpiece about capitalism. Stunning.

-- The Criterion Blu-ray version of Wim Wenders's Wings of Desire, one of the best films of the '80s. Truly and utterly beautiful, humane and humanitarian, about angels watching over the people of Berlin, about being human.

-- The Criterion Blu-ray version of John Ford's Stagecoach, an American classic, with a young John Wayne, that is better than ever.

-- Pixar's Ratatouille, which I saw when it first came out on video a few years ago and found disappointing. I watched it again with my daughters recently -- and then again on TV and once more on video -- and loved it. One of Pixar's best, up there with Wall-E, Monsters Inc., The Incredibles, Finding Nemo, parts of the first two Toy Story movies, and the amazing marriage sequence at the beginning of Up!.

(Alright, there is another, and it's going to be one of 2010's best for me: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, which I saw in the theater over the summer and again recently on Blu-ray. It's fantastic entertainment.)

I'll likely post again on the movies as we get a bit closer to the Oscars, and once I've seen the major contenders. I highly doubt, however, that I will see anything nearly as good as The Story of a Cheat, Wings of Desire, or Stagecoach.

The United States of Goldman Sachs

By Edward Copeland 

In 2007, Charles Ferguson directed the great documentary No End in Sight. Last year, he helmed another that told the story of an entirely different type of destruction, Inside Job, only this time the war wasn't against another country, it was against the world's financial system and instead of only those actually in Iraq and their families paying a price, we all suffered for Wall Street's greed and Washington's malfeasance.

As Ferguson did in No End in Sight, he makes a very complicated subject easier to understand through his masterful presentation of the facts and history of the situation (narrated by Matt Damon here) and interviews with key subjects. It's not an easy task in Inside Job because trying to explain the mechanics of financial derivatives and its role in the economic collapse is nowhere near as easy to do as it was to show all the mistakes and blunders involved in the Iraq war.

Not surprisingly, most of the key figures such as Alan Greenspan, Timothy Geithner, etc., refused to be interviewed for the film, but what's shocking is that Wall Street and financial service figures who do give interviews feel completely at ease showing their arrogance and defending the industry's actions.

Inside Job, briskly edited by Chad Beck and Adam Bolt, shows how decades of deregulation under presidents of both parties led to one crisis after another, each bigger than the last, with seemingly no one in Washington learning any lessons.

The film also provides fascinating tidbits such as the fact that as recently as the early 1970s bond traders' salaries were low enough, that some had to take second jobs to make ends meet. It also tells how employees of various financial firms engaged in cocaine-fueled parties with prostitutes which were billed to the companies as things such as computer supplies.

The handful of firms who would tell their clients a purchase was good while betting on its failure behind their back is staggering, though not as staggering as the refusal of regulators to do any regulating or the number of former top Goldman Sachs executives who end up serving in presidential administrations of both parties. (When Hank Paulson stepped down as Goldman CEO to be Dubya's treasury secretary, he had to sell $450 million in Goldman Sachs stock but thanks to a law signed by the first Bush, he paid exactly zero taxes on it and some say the rich are taxed too much?)

Ferguson's No End in Sight proved to be not only informative, but to provoke outrage at all of the things that were and weren't done prior to the Iraq war. Inside Job does just the same for the history of the financial collapse, especially when you see all of the names who profited from Wall Street's greed that have populated the Obama Administration, not that he invented the problem.

It began with Reagan, got worse with the first Bush, declined further under Clinton and took the big nosedive under the second Bush. Now, Obama's advisers come from the same group and Congress passes reforms without teeth because Wall Street controls what happens. Inside Job tells this infuriating story in great detail and it tells it well.

(Cross-posted at Edward Copeland on Film.)

It's not alright, Jack

"We've lost sight in Washington of what Congress is for, of who Congress serves. It serves the people of the United States. Instead, we've found it serves Chinese sweatshop owners, Russian gangsters — Congress is now serving those interests. The thing is it has become accepted now, so part of our political culture now, that it's normal. Your average citizen doesn't have the voice you'd expect him to have because these voices are much louder and much better financed."
— J. Michael Waller, director, Institute of World Politics

By Edward Copeland 

It's slightly confusing that jailed former lobbyist Jack Abramoff has inspired two 2010 films about his escapades and that both have Casino Jack in the title. I've yet to see the fictional feature starring Kevin Spacey and directed by the late George Hickenlooper, but the documentary Casino Jack and the United States of Money by Alex Gibney, the great documentarian behind past gems such as the Oscar-winning Taxi to the Dark Side and Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room has made an excellent nonfiction version. On top of that, Gibney also directed or co-directed THREE other 2010 documentaries I've yet to see, Client 9: The Rise and Fall of Eliot Spitzer, Freakonomics and My Trip to Al-Qaeda. He also executive produced the phenomenal No End in Sight and was a consulting producer on the exquisite Who Killed the Electric Car? Busy man and from the films I've seen him make so far, a damn fine nonfiction filmmaker as well as a prolific one.

Even if you followed the tale of uberlobbyist Jack Abramoff closely, Gibney's film will keep you riveted as it tells the story of his life and various malfeasance through interviews with many of the associates who were involved in his schemes, either as victims or perpetrators. You also get handy reminders of what a true character the man really was, dating all the way back to his days as he took over the national college Republicans to spin them in a more conservative direction with friends such as Karl Rove and Grover Norquist.

It's also funny to remember his interest and obsessions with pop culture, such as when he grew tired of his secular Jewish rearing and decided to become orthodox based on, of all things, seeing the film version of Fiddler on the Roof. Then there is the obsession he and other college Republicans had with the movie Patton, repeating the famous speech George C. Scott delivers in the film, only replacing every German or Nazi reference with Democrat. Longing for spy games at heart, when an Angolan adventure goes awry, Abramoff even turned to movie producing, financing the Dolph Lundgren hoot Red Scorpion.

However, lobbying proved far more lucrative to Abramoff than show business ever could have been, ethics and laws be damned. It led to the the top our system of legalized bribery (and some instances of not-so-legalized bribery) as he peddled influence on Capitol Hill, mostly with Republicans though Democrats cashed in on his largess as well. The shocking parts are watching as he enlists Indian tribes as clients to promote gaming on one hand and charges them huge fees while on the other hand helps forces out to stop the Indian gaming movement if it interferes with specific clients. Rest assured though, Abramoff and his associates were making money on both sides of the equation.

Casino Jack and the United States of Money tells Abramoff's story in a sleek, informative way and it's still unbelievable that only member of Congress, Bob Ney, R-Ohio, went to jail for his involvement with the man, even if he did help shove Tom DeLay out the door. Gibney saves his suckerpunch for the epilogue though, when you realize that as bad as the system is and as horribly as Abramoff abused it, it turned out to be small potatoes compared to what the lobbyists for the titans of Wall Street have and continue to accomplish.

The result should really be more depressing than it is, but it's made too well and entertains too much for much sadness to seep in.

(Cross-posted at Edward Copeland on Film.)

And yet no one went to jail

By Edward Copeland 

Reliving the Valerie Plame affair in Fair Game, based on the books written by Plame herself and her husband Joe Wilson, if you didn't have any anger before over what the Bush White House did to a loyal CIA agent in the name of politics and a war they wanted no matter what the facts were, that old rage will well up once again. In Doug Liman's film, it comes up even more so because before we get to the events of the leak of Plame's covert status itself, we actually see what her job entailed and what the Bush politicos callously threw away for their own warped reasons and the cost it took in American lives, those of other intelligence sources and, of course, the truth. Still, no one who committed crimes (and crimes were committed) went to jail for their roles. It's outrageous and the film will make that outrage feel fresh again.

Naomi Watts stars as Plame and Sean Penn plays Wilson (in one of his least-mannered performances) and while many of the details of the film will be familiar to anyone who watched the episode unfold in the media, what makes director Doug Liman's film most interesting are the details that were left by the wayside.

Fair Game begins by showing us Plame at work for the agency, making frequent secret trips overseas making contacts and protecting sources in the battle against weapons proliferation. Her husband knows her real job, but her friends believe she works for a phony business service. Early on, at the behest of the Defense Department, her section gets contacted to check out stories on aluminum tubes supposedly sought by Saddam Hussein and the possibility that Saddam had tried to acquire yellowcake uranium from Niger.

Never mind that the aluminum tube story had been investigated and disputed long before since the equipment was horribly outdated and unacceptable for uranium enrichment, the Bush White House pressures the CIA to check it out again. As it happens, Wilson, the last American to meet Saddam face-to-face and someone who had strong contacts with high-ranking officials in Niger, is suggested as someone who could check out the African side of the story. Plame admits her husband's expertise in the area, but that's the extent of her involvement in his getting the assignment.

Wilson takes the trip to Niger and finds that it would be logistically impossible to remove that large an amount of yellowcake from the country without leaving physical or written evidence. He returns, issues his report that the story is a nonstarter and believes that it's the end of it. Unfortunately, the Bush gang, represented especially by the unctuous Scooter Libby (played to smarmy perfection by David Andrews) are ghouls who can't say no and, much to Wilson's surprise, President Bush says those 16 words that mean so much in his 2002 State of the Union speech about Saddam attempting to acquire quantities of uranium from Africa.

Just to be certain, Wilson calls a source of his to make certain that Bush isn't referring to a different African country than Niger, but no, that's the lie that's being spun, followed by the big p.r. push from Cheney, Rice and the gang about not letting the "smoking gun be a mushroom cloud." An outraged Wilson pens the infamous op-ed in The New York Times about what he didn't find in Niger and the White House declares war on him and his wife, including outing her identity as a CIA operative in Robert Novak's column, which still is a crime.

The rest of the story should be fairly familiar to anyone who followed it, but if you've forgotten some of the details, you are certain to get riled once again (and to question the wisdom of the Obama Administration letting sleeping liars sleep free for the crimes they committed).

Still, as well known as the tale is, Fair Game proves quite compelling thanks to a solid cast and Liman's solid direction. Of course, the true Bush believers will have no interest and partisans already will have been converted, but those who are fuzzy on the facts owe it to themselves to see this film. A little history never hurt anybody. 

(Cross-posted at Edward Copeland on Film.)