Elizabethtown is one of those films that I had to let seep in. It seems, at least among friends who have seen it, that I am the only one who liked it. I didn’t love it, but I was hoping to. First of all, this is the first time I almost enjoyed Kirsten Dunst. Frankly, her teeth are distracting. If you make your living in front of the camera and close-ups are your bread and butter, the dentist should be your best friend.  Those pearly whites deserve to be straightened, Ms. Dunst. One hour of work on that third Spider-Man movie should more than cover the cost.  Regardless of her snaggletooth grin, Dunst is charming as a quirky flight attendant from the South. Strikingly similar to Natalie Portman’s role in Garden State, Dunst saves the boy and helps to soften the blow of major father issues. I’ve also never been on the Orlando Bloom bandwagon, so my expectations were quite low for his first role with an American accent and without heroic garb. He was bland at best, and only showed signs of true emotion on occasion, which I tend to believe had more to do with the script and his character. My vanity complaint about him is that hair. Does it have to be long and scruffy for every film? In this movie, we are supposed to believe he is a hotshot shoe designer, so I assume his long locks are our visual clue that he’s a creative genius rebelling in corporate America.  I appreciate the overall sentiment behind the movie; that Cameron Crowe wrote and directed Elizabethtown as homage to his father (much like Almost Famous was a tribute to his mother). One reason I enjoy all of Crowe’s films is that they’re dialogue heavy and character specific. Each movie is a tad autobiographical, as Crowe tends to transfer personal experiences from both his young life and rock & roll wife (Nancy Wilson) to the big screen. So although I wasn’t sold on the acting, I loved two elements of the film: strange people who happen to also be your family, and road trips with soundtracks. It is no surprise that the soundtrack to this movie provides a narrative above and beyond the story, that specific songs accompany key scenes beautifully. Crowe is the master of movie soundtracks, dating back to Say Anything, which he also wrote. I don’t grade films, but if I did, I would give Elizabethtown a solid B. At times it felt disjointed, but Crowe is the kind of filmmaker that makes me want to write a screenplay supported and surrounded by my favorite songs.

I try to avoid reading reviews of movies I want to see, and opt to form my own opinion. In the case of the new independent film Thumbsucker, perhaps I should have consulted the experts. While it was a disappointing effort, there were a few highlights, including the performances of Vincent D’Onofrio and a surprisingly funny Benjamin Bratt. Vince Vaughn fails at his attempt to play a normal character, the debate coach; he was distracting, and it seemed as if he was trying to suppress his laughter in every scene. Overall, the film dragged on, and after it was over, I was shocked to find out it was only an hour and a half long.  I have higher expectations for my next two indie outings: Capote and Good Night, and Good Luck.

I used to get upset every October when baseball pre-empted some of my beloved shows, but as a late-blooming fan of the game, I understand why they have to do it. We should all be thankful that most of the networks now choose to air new episodes of hit shows after the World Series has ended rather than showing them late at night after ballgames (a real pain in the rear in the days before TiVo). While we’re on the subject, you know I can’t resist the opportunity to gloat about the fact that the Red Sox were swept out of contention by the White Sox, beginning a new streak of long-suffering misery for unofficial Boston Superfan Ben Affleck.

Yesterday I saw an early screening of Felicity Huffman in Transamerica at the Mill Valley Film Festival. Prior to the film, Huffman was interviewed onstage by a local film critic, and I was pleasantly surprised at how down-to-earth, tiny and funny she is. This is the kind of film that needs to be seen; the kind of film that you need to tell your friends about because it is going to be released in limited markets and on few screens in December. Although Huffman’s character is a (pre-op) male-to-female transsexual, the movie is first and foremost about family, and is NOT an ‘issue’ film. Huffman gives the performance of her career as Sabrina Osborne, a character (thankfully) ten thousand miles away from Lynette on Desperate Housewives.  Her physical transformation was so incredible that I was convinced they’d found a man resembling her for the first few scenes of the film. Without a doubt, if this movie receives even an inkling of the critical acclaim and proper marketing it deserves, Huffman should be a shoo-in for an Oscar nomination. Note: this is the very first non-Miramax film to be acquired by The Weinstein brothers, who are distributing it (along with IFC Films). Given their reputation for aggressive campaigning during award season, perhaps this little indie treasure has a chance.

Last night I did something I haven’t done in years – purchased a stack of CDs. Not one song at a time at $.99 each, but actual discs imprisoned by impossible stickers and jewel cases just begging to be cracked. There are certain artists that I will always buy on CD, and paying a few dollars more for the packaging is worth it for the liner notes alone. Inadvertently, my new CDs create a Lilith Fair reunion of sorts: Fiona Apple, Tracy Chapman, Sheryl Crow, and Liz Phair. 

I go through phases when songs stick in my head for months, providing the soundtrack of my life. Current obsessions include: