Spellbound

Grade: B+

And I thought little league parents were bad.

There are no screaming fits here, no ranting at umpires or cursing other parents out. Many of these parents are far more educated, and instead tend to rely on more subtle psychological torture over physical abuse. Oh, the therapy bills to come.

This is a thoroughly engrossing film that documents the study habits and backgrounds of some eight teenagers from all across the country (including a young African American girl who simply hops on a nearby subway) to participate in the National Spelling Bee Championship in Washington, DC. The Olympians of spellers, this film has all the excitement and pathos of any major athletic championship, with a great deal of humor and social commentary thrown in for good measure. The disparities of opportunity in our culture are on full display here, as we watch poor students memorizing words from Webster’s dictionaries while others have computer programs and foreign language tutors hired to ensure their knowledge of the root origins of English. Some children have non-English speaking immigrant parents who brought their families to America seeking a better life, while still other parents fairly reek of Hahvard and Yaley backgrounds. We are both ashamed and irritated by the inequalities and yet also spellbound by just how equalizing a competition such as this can be. All the bells and whistles of a privileged life can’t guarantee the bell won’t ding after an impossible word is misspelled, nor does a life of greater struggle necessarily deny being given the word you actually memorized how to spell the night before. These kids are at once committed, self-deprecating, hopeful, obsessive, goofy, insecure, often defeatist in the face of victory and enthusiastic in the face of defeat. It is as though the self-proclaimed geeks of the world unite, escaping the judgment, disparity, and cruelty inherent in being deemed different for a brief moment in time to find their own kind and feel less alone in the world.

And an extra note to all you self-absorbed, insecure, well-educated New Yorkers out there: Spelling words out loud in a darkened movie theater doesn’t impress anybody, but it does indeed annoy everybody. Shut the hell up!

More Movie Info: http://imdb.com/title/tt0334405/

A Mighty Wind

Grade: C+

Fine. Just get it over with. Knock yourselves out. Stone me. Cover me with tar and feathers. Write nasty emails and tell me I have no sense of humor at my new website, www.nofunnybone.com. As I sat in the theater, first fully upright with a smile on my face in cheerful anticipation, slowly but surely sinking into my seat as this dull recyclable droned on with never a belly laugh and only the occasional cracked smile, I felt the weight of the hostility that was surely coming my way as soon as I started typing my honest appraisal of this latest work from the creative team of Christopher Guest and Company a.k.a. “we can do no wrong” incorporated.

It simply fascinates me how everybody I talk to hedges about how they feel about this movie. Critics laud its praises while building a ready made defense mechanism into their reviews, exclaiming how unfair it is to compare this extremely funny film to the comic genius of its predecessors before anyone raises the comparison in the first place. People make disclaimers and hem and haw before saying how enjoyable the film is, or talk about how much they loved the music and can’t wait to get the CD. Nobody wants to believe, admit or accept this film just ISN’T TERRIBLY FUNNY – but it ISN’T. This one has people forcing out laughter in multiplexes all across the country. “It’s Christopher Guest for cripes sake, and by god I’m gonna’ laugh if it kills me.”

Okay, okay, I know farce is a matter of taste, and it isn’t really mine. Sacrilegious though it may be, I have found each of these mockumentaries somewhat less than the one that came before. “Spinal Tap” was borderline brilliant, “Guffman” a small but welcome charmer, “Best In Show” mildly amusing if somewhat forced and one note (I know, I know, I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, it was a laugh riot bla bla bla.).

This one feels like a mediocre “Saturday Night Live” skit. And I’m talking about the current incarnation, not the Gilda, John, Dan, Jane, Bill years. It starts petering out long before it ever really gets started.

I have been to more than enough folk concerts to know there is oh so much to parody – the singalongs where the audience is split into different choral sections, the moments where people who can’t carry a tune nonetheless recapture their youth belting out “Puff the Magic Dragon” at the top of their off-key lungs or break out their hankies in shared liberalism when “Blowin in the Wind” starts playing, the hippie throwbacks, the bad costumes, the rainbow striped guitar straps, the tired anti-Republican jokes, the almost overwrought sense of community fervor people feel at these things. When this film bothers to skim the surface of such comic possibilities it is indeed humorous, if not guffaw-level funny. The album covers are right on target and the songs embarrassingly real for those of us who love folk music. Unfortunately, most of the film is less about a folk music reunion and more about tired schtick about people having sex in adjacent hotel rooms, religious cults, and sex change operations. Frankly, most of the film feels improvised during an “aint we funny” pot smoking weekend.

Sorry, but not so much.

If I can admit that the last two “Star Wars” films were only fair and that “Return of the Jedi” was by far the weakest of the original trilogy, why can’t Guest fanatics admit this one just doesn’t measure up? Come on, you can do it. Step into the light.
But, oh, the friendships I shall lose over this one.

More Movie Info: http://imdb.com/title/tt0310281/