Are You A Catfish?

This weekend, I was finally able to find a screening of the highly-anticipated “reality thriller” Catfish. Having made the mistake of watching the trailer a week before its premiere, I was so curious as to what the mysterious twist, which according to critics would change my life, would be that I was willing to travel 45 minutes to find out. After 94 minutes filled with hand-held camera work, banter, and close-ups of Facebook profiles, I can promise you that my life is not changed. However, once separated from its previews, Catfish is an interesting film that stands on its own.

The film focuses on a professional photographer named Nev who begins a friendship with a young girl in Michigan after she sends him a painting of one of his photos. As their correspondence grows, Nev also creates relationships with other members of the family, taking a special interest in 19-year old Megan. When some of the family’s stories don’t line up, Nev and two filmmakers (brother Rel and friend Henry) decide to pay Megan a visit. As far as the rest of the plot goes, I really shouldn’t spoil it, I wouldn’t want to contradict the film’s tagline, “Don’t let anyone tell you what it is.”

The appeal of Catfish did not lie in fancy technology, particularly strong acting, or an air-tight plot line. The budget was extremely low, there were no effects and a very minimal score, and no one involved in this project will be winning any awards for cinematography. Yes it was cheesy, and maybe it was staged. The fact of the matter is that I do not care if this movie was real or fake. In spite of its shortcomings, however, I have not been able to criticize Catfish all that harshly.  The film had a certain je ne sais quoi, this intangible quality that forced me to like it. Perhaps for the same reason that I would root for the Cubs over my beloved Red Sox, I really wanted to see Catfish succeed.

I spent the majority of the film waiting for a shocking twist, some strange inciting moment, that would splash the plot with a little bit of clarity. And when that moment came, I was a somewhat disappointed. No axe murderer? No need for an exorcism? No ventriloquist with a host of cannibalistic dummies? The twist seemed anticlimactic at first, a letdown after the shock and awe promised in the trailer. But the more I think about it, the more I realize the movie could not have ended any other way. It was a sincere look at loneliness, at the truth, and perhaps most importantly, at the Facebook generation--global connection is just a click away.

The verdict? Go and see Catfish. If the film (I would call it a documentary, but inquiries are being made into its authenticity) is not released in more than a handful of cinemas, at very least rent it when it goes to DVD. But do not expect a gruesome crime scene drama filled with unspeakable accounts of human cruelty. Just watch, take it for what it is, and keep guessing  at the significance of the title.

Oh, and don’t watch the trailer.

No quotes, no preview. Just a recommendation.

A Valentine to Growing Up

Is it cool to like this movie? Does it make me a hipster if I admit to enjoying Spike Jonze’s adaptation of Maurice Sednak’s treasured picture book? I think it’s a common misconception that, in order to like this movie, one must be a twenty-something in possession of a liberal arts degree and an iPod full of indie bands. At the end of the day, Where the Wild Things Are is a coming of age story whose bittersweet charm is hard to ignore. 

This movie was far from perfect. I do not think I would have had the attention span as a child to sit through the 101 minute runtime, and my favorite movie was Born Free. There were certainly parts that dragged, (the scene in which the monsters decide whether or not to eat Max was far longer than necessary) and the characters sometimes felt underdeveloped, rushing inexplicably from mood to mood, but for a full length film adapted from a forty-eight page children’s book, the plot was surprisingly filled-out and contained an abundance of insightful moments.  

There are two reasons why I didn’t write this movie off as a flash in the pan of contemporary independent cinema. First, the visuals and scene compositions were stunning. One scene that stands out vividly in my mind is when Max is alone in his room, building his fort. The audience is allowed into this quiet, private moment, and without much work from the child actor, the feeling of creative potential tempered by isolation is beautifully conveyed. The majority of the scenes on the island are also breathtaking; Max and the monsters running to the very edge of the cliff, and Carol showing Max his miniature city remain among my favorites from the film.

Secondly, I am an absolute sap for stories about growing up. Some people were quick to write Max off as a trouble maker, a little brat who craves attention and will do anything to get it. However, I disagree with this interpretation. Max was neglected, and he sought acceptance outside of his family circle. He was brave, cunning, and resilient, and used his skills to enrich the lives of his new monster friends (for the most part). The part was acted honestly by Max Records, who brought energy and a certain sweetness to a role that could have been irritating in the hands of another. While some of my good will towards the movie was usurped by the obnoxious Judith (voiced by Catherine O’Hara), James Gandolfini in the role of Carol and Records both were able to create a touching relationship that overshadowed my annoyance with some of the secondary characters. Max ultimately learns the value of humility, truth, and character, while recognizing that there truly is nothing like family. While perhaps Where the Wild Things Are will not be the instant classic that was Toy Story 3, I believe that viewers will find in it a candid account of learning to fly, and will surely delight in this visual confection.

I was a little bit late to jump on the Where the Wild Things Are train because the book was never a childhood favorite. Maybe that’s the reason I was able to enjoy the movie; I had no source material against which to measure it. Darker than I expected, this movie felt as familiar as last winter’s sweater, but left a coppery taste in my mouth reminiscent of summer’s final golden afternoon. A beautiful tribute to those of us with rampant imaginations, a sense of adventure, and a secret awe of all things wild. 

I have a sadness shield that keeps out all the sadness, and it's big enough for all of us. 

Click here to watch the trailer: http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi3225158169/