Tuesday, June 30, 2020
Mourning and Celebrating "The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson"
At the literal 11th hour as Pride month comes to a close, I want to talk about "The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson" (2017).
The documentary introduces us to Marsha P. Johnson, a major player in the movement for LGBT rights including in the Stonewall uprising, by way of the ongoing investigation into her death. Officially ruled a suicide, the highly suspicious circumstances of Marsha's death appropriately lead LGBT activist Victoria Cruz to tirelessly investigate her likely murder even on the precipice of her retirement.
At its heart, this film uplifts the anguish and struggle of trans activists for equal respect, rights, and voice within the movement for LGBT rights. Even as they played a major--at times central--role in securing rights for other sexual minorities, trans people often found themselves overlooked or spurned by the movement whose success they were instrumental in. The movie also highlights the loving and strong community trans activists like Marsha provided for each other during an extraordinarily treacherous period in LGBT history. Despite being driven to the margins of society, trans activists like Marsha built celebratory and unapologetic lives for themselves and their compatriots, all in the hopes the future could be better.
The lingering emotional impact of the film are the simultaneous notes of Marsha's huge, bright, gregarious personality and the heartache of her tragic and senseless death. Through the tragedy and sadness, her broad smile, her bold style, her courageous and ferocious agitation for a better world are nevertheless what shine brightest.
I gave this movie a 4.
{Heart}
Tuesday, June 29, 2021
Antiracist Accountability x Pride: "Paris is Burning" for "Kiki"
Hi friends,
This Pride month, as with last year's, I want to uplift Black and Brown trans and gay people. While last year I talked about Marsha P. Johnson's gargantuan influence on the movements for gay and trans rights, this year I want to share with you two documentaries about thriving enclaves of safety, joy, and artistry that gay and trans people of color have created in New York City and their evolution through the decades.
The first is the electrifying classic "Paris is Burning" (1990).
The second is the unofficial epilogue to "Paris is Burning", "Kiki" (2016).
Viewed together, the films offer time-traveling front row seats in the uproarious performance halls and intimate apartments of New York City's gorgeous, resilient, burning bright ball scene.
"Paris is Burning" introduces us to New York's ball culture and some of the major houses it was comprised of in the late 1980s. The film reveals the origins of appropriated terms still used today (such as "throwing shade"), but more importantly centers the deep love, ingenuity, and vitality fostered in a community assailed by seemingly endless acts of individual and systemic violence. Its beauty and joy is made ever sweeter by the heartbreak at the film's conclusion, when the audience learns how many of the film's participants lost their lives to illness and other manifestations of the brutality of oppression. The poignancy lent to "Paris is Burning" by the ephemerality of its performances and, ultimately, many of its performers lends an enduring, weighty ache to an already indelible film.
As its unofficial sister film, "Kiki" updates us on the state of this community by focusing on the young people who are part of the kiki scene--essentially ballroom culture for teenagers. "Kiki" shows us that in some ways, things have improved since "Paris is Burning": kiki performers have access to more resources and, in some cases, broader support from family and loved ones than their '80's ballroom forebears. But of course, societally there is still so far to go until kids in the kiki scene gain the supports, resources, safety, and respect they richly deserve.
These truly are wonderful, uplifting, inspiring, and deeply human movies. If you haven't already seen them both, I strongly recommend them and I hope you enjoy them!
You can watch "Paris is Burning" here.
You learn more about "Kiki" here and watch it here.
Perhaps obviously, I gave both of these glorious, gorgeous movies a 5.
Happy Pride!
{Heart}
Sunday, January 31, 2021
2020 Movie Round-Up!!
Hello everyone,
It is that magical time where we look back over a whole year's worth of movie viewing!
Hurray!!
On this front as well as so many others, 2020 was unusual. I ended up watching a perhaps obscene number of movies? I mean, it's great, but... it's a lot. I'm also aware that the sheer volume of films I watched was due in large part to rapidly-changing factors, including my child's needs, our childcare options, and what my work looks like, and that therefore it won't be likely that I replicate this past year's remarkable rate of viewing anytime soon.
So without further ado, let's roll!
The PsychoCinematic Year in Movies
2020 Edition
That's right. 95 movies. Within striking distance of 100. It's... kind of awesome? Really awesome? It's honestly really great. Watching so many movies is yet another admittedly begrudging silver lining to the poopfest that was last year.
Some practical notes: The following annotations were used to track some minor trends in some of the movies I watched:
There are also a few films I didn't rate because I wasn't able to watch enough of them to justify a rating. Those are the films with "??" as their rating.
Happily, I've found that these new evolutions in my movie-tracking have been instrumental in watching more movies this year. Taking the pressure off to fastidiously (or tediously) finish every damn minute of every damn movie means that I was more willing to just try something that might be a bit of a gamble. Giving myself permission to count movies I'd already seen meant I got to revisit films I enjoy for some much-needed comfort-watching without the perfectionistic squickiness of arbitrarily not being "allowed" to add those movies to my yearly total.
As I review that list, I feel a pang of sadness that there are so many movies I didn't get to write about that I would have loved to share my thoughts about. This is obviously in many ways a nice thing--it's so wonderful to have watched so many films that I wanted to share my reactions to. It's also a byproduct of wanting to continue my annual traditions of writing more reflective posts about the year as a whole, most of which land at the end of the year. The challenge is that this practice also means that writing about specific films took a backseat, especially when time to write became increasingly scarce. Those traditions, arguably starting in October (when at least the annual post is about movies), tacitly include a self-imposed expectation that I write longer and more cognitively and emotionally demanding posts, which runs counter to the intention I've (repeatedly) set to write briefer posts to actually ensure I write more often.
It's not surprising that I've drifted from that goal as the year has worn on--this is why I find it helpful to reset intentions at least once a year. And here, with a chance to reflect on the year in movies, is another potent opportunity to prove to myself that I writing at least a little bit more often is way more gratifying than only writing more substantive posts every once in a while.
Of course, I can strive for some combination of both.
With that reflection aside, let's jump into the year's worst movies, including the following offenders:
Unsane (2018)
For being so upsetting that I'm still mad I watched even just a part of this movie:
Under the Skin (2013)
I Love You, Man (2009)
Mulan (2020)
This year seems like a pretty easy choice. While I do have feelings of queasy irritation in response to "Unsane" and "Jingle All the Way", this year's selection for worst film induces a rage-y nausea I'm not sure I've experienced in response to a movie in quite some time. It bothered me a whole lot and seemed bleak, unsettling, and unpleasant with no clear payoff in sight, thereby begging the question of why?
Why.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, my least favorite film in 2020 was:
Honestly the only good thing about this movie is that it gave me a good excuse to use my favorite possum meme when I first wrote about it. Since it still very much applies, I will honor it with another cameo today:
And now, I am pleased to present to you the best movies I saw in 2020:
Long Shot (2019)
What a pleasure to have seen so many deeply enjoyable films in one year!
Given the aforementioned adaptations I made in the last year, I must note the movies I rewatched. These include known quantities that delightfully hold up over time, like the admittedly strange bedfellows of "The Seventh Seal" (1957) and "The LEGO Movie" (2014), as well as the still incredibly charming "The Birdcage" (1996).
I loved some older movies, noting that each has problematic elements that inevitably signal their age and the lengths society still needs to travel to achieve equally empowering representation of all peoples. That said, I really appreciated films like "The Bridge on the River Kwai" (1957), "The Battle of Algiers" (1966), "L'Armée des Ombres" (1969), and again, "The Seventh Seal" (1957).
I watched some delightful comedies and lighter movies this year, including "Coco" (2017), the pleasant surprise "Long Shot" (2019), and the already-mentioned "The Birdcage" (1996).
There were also several great documentaries, including the haunting "Tell Me Who I Am" (2019), the exhilarating "Apollo 11" (2019), the formidable and inspiring "Kiki" (2016), the subtle yet moving "Manakamana" (2013), and the simultaneously enraging and enlightening "Burn Motherfucker, Burn!" (2017).
And now, we pull into the home stretch: the movies in close contention for my favorite films of the year. There are two documentaries about artists: There's "McQueen" (2018), which was astonishing. The fury and genius of the film's namesake's creations were absolutely riveting, and despite the film's length I still find myself wishing they'd spent more time savoring each detail of McQueen's gobsmacking fashion shows. There's "The Salt of the Earth" (2014), which is a heartbreaking, moving, and ultimately hopeful referendum on humankind as delivered by Sabastião Salgado.
Then there's "Palm Springs" (2020), which I maintain is basically the perfect movie to sum up much of how 2020 felt while still managing to imbue that feeling with creativity and humor.
Completely sneaking up on me was "His House" (2020), a gripping, alarming, breathtaking horror movie that is horror at its best: a treatise on human nature that, when reflecting on its final scenes, still brings me to tears. I wish everyone would see that movie if only for the emotional impact of those last images. It is incredible that this is director Remi Weekes's first feature-length film, and I can't wait to see what he creates next.
Then, there's a trio of films by Hirokazu Kore-eda, who I have been delighted to discover and embrace as one of my new favorite directors. His films are quiet and subtle, yet emotionally rich and so pleasantly absorbing--exactly what I needed, especially in my early days of parenthood. "Aruitemo Aruitemo (Still Walking)" (2008) was my first introduction to his work, followed by "Our Little Sister" (2015), and later "Shoplifters" (2018). While I wasn't quite as compelled by "After the Storm" (2016; I gave it a 3) or "The Third Murder" (2018; I gave it a 4), I'm still perfectly happy to have watched it.
So this year, like last year, I'm going to approach choosing my favorite film a little differently. Instead of choosing one movie I liked best, I'll choose one favorite filmmaker--someone new to me, who I hope to follow and enjoy for years to come: Hirokazu Kore-eda.
While, as always, this decision is difficult (seriously, please watch "His House"), I am also simply so grateful for and fulfilled by these wonderful movies. I am so grateful for this artform and so hopeful that it will persist and ever evolve, hopefully in the near future and always as an art we can all enjoy together.
Thank you for reading!
{Heart}







