Derek’s Cianfrance’s follow up to Blue Valentine, The Place Beyond the Pines, does not disappoint. I was already excited to see the Focus Features film after I heard about its limited release, and that excitement grew when it went to full release in late March. This is my second movie that I’ve got to enjoy where the plot is located in Schenectady, New York (Charlie Kaufman’s Synecodche, New York was the other), and let me tell you, there is something special about that place. The cinematography in Pines by Sean Bobbit is second to none, and he had to have seen Charlie Kaufman’s work to get some ideas. While The Place Beyond the Pines isn’t shot in a city atmosphere, the town is still beautiful and works wonders for the theme of the film. It’s definitely worth a view.

This article is full of spoilers, so I would advice not reading unless you have seen the film or don’t mind hearing some extreme spoilers regarding plot twist. So, I’ll wait a few lines to announce a spoiler just in case your eyes accidentally catch a sentence while you’re heading for the “X” at the top of the page. Anyway, worth noting in Pines is yet another terrific performance from Ryan Gosling. This film could easily be read as Drive 2.0, which doesn’t hurt my feelings at all because Drive was one of my favorite films of 2011. From the very beginning, we get this same character that we became accustomed to in Drive. A very socially awkward, wild, misunderstand “Gosling” character that we somehow connect with and cheer for. He’s weird, he’s got a past that no one knows about, and Gosling’s character in Drive could have quite possibly road his 1973 Chevrolet Malibu from Los Angeles (after getting some medical attention on that stab wound, of course) to New York to escape one life, and come back to another. He got a couple of tattoos along the way, a nastier early Slim Shady haircut and picked up some rusty NASCAR shirts (that he consistently wears inside out), but it’s him for sure, our “driver.” This time, instead of car driving, it’s motorcycle riding, and he’s an expert in this field, ironically enough.

Camera work and editing are where this movie excels. They become these foreshadowing tools used to show our characters’ fates. Two editing features used consistently are the dissolve shot and the behind/point-of-view shot, the latter which is first shown with Gosling’s character. The opening shot of the movie is a roughly five minute long, continuous, behind shot of Ryan Gosling walking through this city fair. He is seen as almost larger than life. The only other character that this type of shot is used on is Bradley Cooper’s. The entire film is defined by these two men’s actions and how they cope with the consequences of their choices. After Cooper’s injury, his first day back on the job is a mirror image of Gosling’s opening shot. Despite Cooper’s use of crutches, the camera continuously tracks him throughout the police station. He is seen as a hero, very similar to the way the crowd anoints the arrival of Gosling to the stage. While this shot for Gosling is his high point, the shot for Cooper can be seen as a march towards his decline. The interesting study to make is Gosling vs. Cooper. While these two share the screen for maybe 20 seconds, they have ripples effects on not only our storyline, but on each character for the rest of the movie.

We have to examine the view of Gosling. He’s a criminal on the run, trying to make a new life for his wife (Eva Mendes) and his son, who he just found out about. While his means for survival are not the best, I don’t think the audience can help but root for him. The most compelling scenes are when he is with his son and attempting to provide the life he seems to never have had. He’s robbing banks and beating up anybody gets in his way. I would have enjoyed to hear more about Gosling’s character’s past in the movie, but it added to this mystery of who he truly was. All Gosling seems to want is to make things right with his wife and provide for his new child. Cianfrance develops this connection to Gosling’s character by only showing you this side, and it works. He makes a bad guy loveable for all of the wrong reasons.

On the flip side, there is Cooper’s character, a rookie cop who ends up in a tough spot on one of his first days on the job. After the altercation with Gosling, his life is forever changed. While we only meet Cooper for the first time in a police car, we quickly get a background into his life after his injury. He’s a loving family man, and the son of a well-known judge. I previously mentioned the use of dissolve shot in the film, and it didn’t strike me as an occurring tool until it was used on Bradley’s character. This use of dissolve has both literal and implied meanings. We see the literal meaning as we see the “dissolve” of multiple things: the relationship between Gosling and Mendes, the demise of Gosling, the relationship between Cooper and his son, and the turning of Cooper’s actions as this righteous police officer. It’s quite interesting to think about this from the perspective of Gosling and Cooper’s characters. It becomes a reversal of roles, as Cooper can’t stand his son and wants nothing to do with him, while that’s all Gosling ever wanted in his life, and it was taken away from him. Also, we see two total opposite values from these characters. Gosling begins as a man on the run with few morals but becomes this liked character as we see him care for his family. As he becomes more aware of his surroundings in life, he becomes a better person, but as this happens, he falls further down the rabbit hole that eventually leads to his death. On the flip side, Cooper begins as this small time rookie cop who is doing the right thing. He doesn’t take money from cops who have stolen evidence, and he’s attempting to clean up the police force. As we see his gradual “dissolve,” he begins to cut deals to become the District Attorney. He divorces his wife and wants nothing do with his kid. While his public appearance begins to rise, his morals “dissolve.” It’s an interesting storyline, as we see the differences in how the two men view life, and for that 20 seconds that they meet each other, their worlds collide and send them in opposite directions. The Place Beyond the Pines uses a straightforward linear style storytelling but turns the structure of the three-act play on its head. It does use this three-act play style, but it becomes three stories that have a domino effect on each character’s demise. The only other character to get a dissolve shot is Gosling’s son, as we see him ride away on a motorcycle (the same type his father used) at the end the film. While it is obvious that this is an allusion to the cycle being repeated, you have to notice yet another dissolve shot used on another character. Perfectly enough, the film ends to Bon Iver’s “The Wolves (Part 1 and 2),” whose opening verse sings, “Someday my pain will mark you.” The “pain” of realization for what Gosling’s son has become marks and brands him into his father’s lifestyle.

I thoroughly enjoyed The Place Beyond the Pines and recommend it to anyone. I fully expect a Drive 2 to come out in roughly 3-4 years in a combination of Nicolas Refn and Derek Cianfrance’s styles, with Dane DeHaan as the new “driver.”

Ryan is a part-time contributor to The Reelist and a senior at Kennesaw State outside of Atlanta. You can follow him at @iOnlyWearNike. 

What can a 23 year-old punk such as myself contribute to the discussion on Blue Velvet, nearly 27 years after its release? This film is a bizarre, terrifying, often hilarious classic for reasons that legions of writers have articulated far better than I ever could. If you haven’t seen David Lynch‘s Blue Velvet, see it. If you’ve already seen it and you live in the Los Angeles area, catch it again at the Arclight in Hollywood.

However, I do want to call attention to something that, as far as I can tell, has little or no exposure on the Web:

 Without Blue Velvet, Guillermo del Toro would not exist as the director we know him to be.

All of del Toro’s films deal with mysterious worlds and phenomena hidden just under the façade of daily life, sometimes in plain sight. This synopsis captures Blue Velvet to a T. There’s a dark, twisted underworld in Lumberton, North Carolina. The first evidence that Jeffrey Beaumont finds pointing toward the existence of such a world is the severed human ear in the field. As the two worlds intersect more and more, the greater the mayhem becomes.

Del Toro’s films display a nearly identical modus operandi to Lynch’s. Whether the conflict involves the Judas bugs in Mimic, the vampire subculture in Blade II, the eponymous realm of Pan’s Labyrinth, or the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense in the Hellboy franchise, del Toro’s films say that there seems to be an amazing, threatening world just below us at all times. Such a technique for incorporating the impossible (or, in the case of Blue Velvet, the merely improbable) in a story better enables the viewer to imagine him/herself in the position of the protagonist. For instance, I know that the events of the Lord of the Rings trilogy could never happen to me since I don’t live in Middle Earth. But as for Blue Velvet and del Toro’s filmography, who knows? 

Perhaps tomorrow I will stumble upon that fateful ear. Or come under attack by anthropomorphic bugs in the subway. Or discover a coven of vampires living down the street. Such things probably won’t happen, but my prior life experience cannot rule out the possibility completely. 

The imagery of insects infests both Blue Velvet and the del Torograpy. From the amazing shot sinking through the soil to the countless beetles below, to the bugs on the ear, to Frank Booth’s buglike gas mask, David Lynch is not subtle in how he represents the vermin (both animal and moral) that surround us whether we know it or not.

Del Toro’s fascination with insects is frequently presented in his films, among which include the dragonfly which leads Ofelia to the faun in Pan’s Labyrinth, the buglike automatons composing Hellboy II’s Golden Army, and the man-eating bugs on Mimic (pretty obvious in the latter case). Del Toro’s upcoming Pacific Rim seems set to carry on both traditions with giant, spindly-legged creatures rising from the ocean floor and a manmade army of exoskeletons to fight them. 

The final details that I want to highlight are the occasions in which both Lynch and del Toro require their villains to sustain themselves with some sort of buglike apparatus. Booth’s mask springs to mind immediately, but so does the immortality device in Cronos, del Toro’s debut, and the mask of Hellboy villain Obersturmbannführer Kroenen. I need to further ponder the significance of the dependence on the bugs.

@Patrick_R_Owens: ”I make money. And I travel a lot. I’m bringing the Beatles back to Hamburg.” 

As I write this, I’m squished into an Amtrak seat between a BU grad student and a mountain of luggage. I’m on my way home to New York, where I’ll be spending the next four months until I return to Boston in September. It’s a bittersweet goodbye, but at least I’m able to leave knowing that the last week I spent here, seeing some of the year’s most anticipated films at the Independent Film Festival of Boston, was pretty damn awesome. For my thoughts on the movies I saw, read on:

1. The Spectacular Now

The festival opened with The Spectacular Now, directed by James Ponsoldt (last year’s Smashed and the upcoming Rodham), and co-written by Michael H. Weber and Scott Neustadter ((500) Days of Summer). Going into the screening, I had high expectations. It’d be an insult to the film to just say that those expectations were met, when in actuality, they were hugely, incredibly exceeded. The Spectacular Now is near perfect. It’s tied with The Perks of Being a Wallflower for the best, most realistic teen movie I’ve ever seen. Miles Teller (Rabbit Hole) stuns as Sutter Keely, a popular high school senior whose easygoing, “live in the moment” persona hides a serious alcohol addiction. As the sweet, studious girl who falls for him, Shailene Woodley (The Descendants) is quietly heartbreaking. The quality of both actors’ performances, combined with a script filled with realistic, natural dialogue, makes The Spectacular Now stand out among the sea of melodramatic teen dramas we see so often. It’s a beautiful film, honest and wise, and my favorite of the festival.

2. The Way, Way Back

The Way, Way Back is a very good movie, but unfortunately, it’s not the fantastic, Little Miss Sunshine-y dramedy I had hoped it would be. It has all the elements of greatness: a renowned ensemble cast including Steve Carrell and Toni Collette; talented co-directors/screenwriters whose last joint effort, The Descendants, won them Oscar gold; an original waterpark setting that evokes a nostalgic summer feel. Yet something’s missing. While there are some great moments and standout performances (Allison Janney and Sam Rockwell are scene-stealers), The Way, Way Back often feels like it’s trying too hard to be the ultimate dysfunctional family comedy. The teen angst of the film’s lead, played by The Killing’s Liam James, verges on grating, and some characters, like Collette’s obnoxious new boyfriend (Carrell) are frustratingly one-dimensional. However, this isn’t to say that The Way, Way Back is a bad movie – far from it. It’s a smart, often hilariously funny film that deserves to be a hit. I just wish it didn’t feel it had to try so hard to be one.

3.  Stories We Tell

Stories We Tell, the debut documentary from filmmaker Sarah Polley (Away From Her, Take This Waltz), is astounding. For 108 minutes, I was riveted, fully immersed in the events and characters unfolding onscreen. The film is unlike any I have ever seen before. To unravel the story behind the affair had by her late mother that led to her birth, Polley interviews several members of her family who differ in their willingness and ability to provide the answers she needs. She has so many questions – Who is her father? Why did her mother cheat? Who kept her secret? With every twist (and there are many), Polley never loses the viewer’s attention, interest and empathy. She creates a documentary that is so honest, so intimate, that I felt almost guilty watching it onscreen. Stories We Tell is a beautiful, impressive feat of filmmaking, one more step in Polley’s astonishing evolution as a director.

4. Touchy Feely

I wanted to love Touchy Feely, the newest effort by Lynn Shelton (Your Sister’s Sister, Humpday), but I couldn’t. It was just too weird. The plot centers on the lives of Abby, a massage therapist (Rosemarie DeWitt), Paul, her dentist brother (Josh Pais), and Jenny, his daughter (Ellen Page). When Abby develops an aversion to bodily contact, she loses her vivacity, unable to comprehend why she suddenly feels so disconnected from life. At the same time, Paul, detached and deadened with a failing business, finds himself unexplainably healing patients of jaw pain, reviving both his dentistry practice and internal spirit. It’s an interesting, original concept, but the film lacks in purpose. I found myself not caring about the characters’ lives, and while some moments of the movie are touching and funny, others are slow and strange. Touchy Feely is as honest and real as Shelton’s previous films, but despite this, it lacks their sense of presence. Maybe I’m in the minority – it seemed like many of my fellow audience members enjoyed the film much more than I did – but I left Touchy Feely thoroughly disappointed. 

Rachel Simon is a college student and contributor to TheReelist who wants to be Buffy Summers and marry Tim Riggins. She’s a New York native working on her Boston accent at Emerson College. You can follow her on Twitter at @rachel_simon.

It’s the last week of classes before finals. I have two huge tests, a group project that’s the culmination of months of work, ten pages of a screenplay to write, and, you know, five days worth of classes. I barely have time to eat, sleep, and see my friends, let alone even begin to catch up on my Netflix queue (sorry, Parenthood, you’ll just have to wait). So, of course, the reasonable thing to do is ignore responsibility and go to a film festival instead.

From Wednesday night until next Tuesday, I’ll be attending the Independent Film Festival of Boston, where some of the most highly anticipated movies of the year will be shown. Unfortunately, because of all the school-related reasons listed above, I’ll only be able to see a small fraction of the films, but I’ll do my best to get to as many as I can. I’ll be sharing my thoughts on each film I see, as well as interviews with any cast/crew that I meet, so check back on The Reelist for updates. In the meantime, before the festival begins, here are the five films I’m most excited to see:

1.     The Way, Way Back

I feel like I’ve been waiting forever to see this movie. In actuality, it’s been a little over a year since I first read a four-line blurb in Entertainment Weekly stating that Jim Rash and Nat Faxon, the screenwriters behind The Descendants, were teaming up once again to make their directorial debut. Since then, I’ve eagerly followed the film’s production journey, my excitement growing with each piece of information released. The plot alone was enough to grab my attention – an awkward 14-year-old comes of age during a summer at a water park – but the casting was what made me certain that The Way, Way Back was going to be the movie of year, at least for me. With an ensemble including Steve Carell, Toni Collette, Maya Rudolph, Allison Janney, and Sam Rockwell, this little indie dramedy is poised to be the breakout hit of 2013. I can’t wait to check it out.

2.     The Spectacular Now

Another film I’ve been dying to see. The Spectacular Now, a drama about the relationship between a popular teenage boy (Miles Teller) and a quiet, lonely girl (Shailene Woodley), received rave reviews when it played at Sundance earlier this year. It’s been compared to last year’s fantastic The Perks of Being a Wallflower for its realism and honesty, and it boasts an impressive cast – besides Teller and Woodley, there’s Kyle Chandler, Jennifer Jason Leigh, and Mary Elizabeth Winstead. Also, it’s written by the guys who wrote (500) Days of Summer and the upcoming The Fault in our Stars. Count me in.

3.      Touchy Feely

The latest film from Lynn Shelton, the filmmaker behind Your Sister’s Sister and Humpday, is poised to be a great one. Just check out this plot: a massage therapist develops an aversion to bodily contact. Shelton’s described this film as her most serious effort so far, but I have no doubt that the originality, wit, and surprising hilarity that characterized her other movies will be just as present here. Rosemarie DeWitt stars, with support from Ellen Page, Josh Pais, and Allison Janney.

4.     Stories We Tell

I’m usually not the best at keeping up with documentaries, but Sarah Polley’s new film caught my attention. In Stories We Tell, Polley, the director of Away From Her and Take This Waltz, turns the camera on her own family, interviewing relatives to uncover details about a long-kept secret: she’s the result of her late mother’s affair. The film has received wonderful reviews since its premiere a few months ago, with ardent praise for Polley’s commitment to honesty, despite the intimately personal nature of the documentary.

5.     In a World…

I don’t know too much about In a World…, but that makes me all the more excited to find out. I know that Lake Bell is its director/writer/star, and its plot centers on the movie trailer voice-over business. I know that comedians Tig Notaro, Demetri Martin, and Nick Offerman have supporting roles. I know that the late, great voice-over king Don LaFontaine is supposedly the inspiration for a main character. Everything else, though, is a mystery to me. I’ll have to wait and find out Tuesday night, when Lake Bell herself will be at the Festival to present the film.

Rachel Simon is a college student and contributor to TheReelist who wants to be Buffy Summers and marry Tim Riggins. She’s a New York native working on her Boston accent at Emerson College. You can follow her on Twitter at @rachel_simon.

In times of need, I go to the movies. On Monday night, after the initial shock and devastation of the Boston Marathon bombing, which had occurred just four blocks away from my college dorm, had passed, what I needed was distraction. So I settled in on the couch, made a bag of popcorn, and watched  The Iron Giant on my computer. Unfortunately, even the 1999 animated classic couldn’t hold my attention. All I could think about was Boston. I thought not only about the day’s attacks, but about all the things I loved about the city – the warmth of its people, the vibrancy of its culture, even the bitterness of its winters. There’s something special about Boston. I’ve only lived here eight months, but already, I’m completely, hopelessly in love. It’s terrible to see the city become a place of terror and violence instead of a center of light and love, but I have no doubt that we’re resilient enough to rebuild. In honor of this city, here are my five favorite movies set in or around Boston:

1. Good Will Hunting

This is the ultimate Boston movie. First, you have the locations. Ben Affleck and Matt Damon’s characters are from Southie (South Boston for all you foreigners). Damon works as a janitor at M.I.T. There are scenes at the Public Garden, Harvard Square, Woody’s L St. Tavern. It doesn’t matter that the majority of the movie was actually filmed in Toronto. It feels like Boston, and that’s enough. Second, you have the accents – thick, unintelligible, distinctly Bah-ston accents apparent in each word that comes out of the characters’ mouths. Then, finally, there is the plot. The story of a brilliant but troubled math genius who rises through life with the help of his slacker best friend and a determined therapist, Good Will Hunting is the kind of feel-good success story that’s pure Boston.

2. The Fighter

Set in the Massachusetts town of Lowell, it’s not technically a Boston film, but I deem it close enough. It stars Bostonian Mark Wahlberg, and every character’s dialect is coated in a thick city accent. The Fighter is the inspiring, incredible true story of boxer Micky Ward (Wahlberg) and his brother/trainer, Dickie Ecklund (Christian Bale), as the former vies for the world welterweight title. It’s a powerful, hugely entertaining film, starring four of the best actors – Wahlberg, Bale, Amy Adams and Melissa Leo, of this generation.

3. The Departed

The Departed isn’t my favorite Scorcese film (that would be Hugo), but it holds a solid second place on my list. With an all-star ensemble including Matt Damon, Mark Wahlberg, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Jack Nicholson, it’s a beautifully crafted thriller set right here in Boston. The film showcases everything from the city’s social class divide to its intense police force, all while making sure to highlight Boston’s unique beauty. It’s a fantastic film worth watching for a multitude of reasons, but my personal motive is the thrill of seeing my favorite actors walk past a T stop that’s visible from my bedroom window.

4. The Social Network

Mark Zuckerberg’s least favorite movie takes place largely at Harvard University, located, of course, in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Although most scenes weren’t actually shot at Harvard (they denied the on-location shooting request), The Social Network is still a uniquely Boston film. Scenes were shot at Boston University and in the suburbs of Newton and Andover, among other close locations, and nothing screams “Boston” like a bunch of frat boys freezing their butts off in the middle of winter.

5. The Abscam Project

Yes, I’m including David O. Russell’s still-untitled upcoming film, which is currently being filmed in and around Boston and is set to be released in December. Some might say it’s too soon to tell if the movie will be any good, but I beg to differ. I have enormous trust in Russell, whose prior achievements include The Fighter and Silver Linings Playbook. Plus, I stood outside the film’s trailers for an hour last week in the freezing cold trying to get a glimpse of one of its stars, so if the movie doesn’t deliver, I’ll be real pissed. What we know of the film isn’t much, but it’s enough to peak my interest. The Abscam Project follows the true story of a 1970 con artist, and just the collective talent of the cast alone – Jennifer Lawrence, Bradley Cooper, Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Jeremy Renner, and Louis C.K. – makes me confident that this will be the film of 2013.

Honorable Mentions: Gone Baby Gone, The Town, Legally Blonde, Ted

Rachel Simon is a college student and contributor to TheReelist who wants to be Buffy Summers and marry Tim Riggins. She’s a New York native working on her Boston accent at Emerson College. You can follow her on Twitter at @rachel_simon.

When the revived series of Doctor Who came back in 2005, a survey was taken to gauge the public’s opinion on whether or not it would be a success. The results came back as a resounding no (about 85%) yet the decision was still made to go ahead with making the show. Now here we are, eight years, three Doctors and almost seven series later.

Has this new, modernised version of the classic sci-fi show had any impact on the world outside this small island I like to call home? The answer is yes, and it seems the show’s largest new fan-base comes from America. The revived Doctor Who is now massive, spawning thousands of new fans all over the globe from small children to grown men and women who just want to see their favourite timelord whiz about the Universe. Now, I have absolutely no problem with this. Increased exposure of your favourite shows to larger audiences often leads to more show-related events (comic cons, DW exhibitions)  and perhaps more specials and bigger and better episodes. However, in the past couple of years, it seems like as more and more other countries, such as the United States, have discovered the show, the big old BBC have been neglecting the place where Doctor Who originated – poor old England.

Okay, here’s the bee in my bonnet. As many of you may know, the 50th anniversary of this spectacular show is this year (and coincidentally falling on the exact same day it started, a Saturday) and of course this means special shows, a convention, etc. Yet it seems that compared to other countries, the UK is getting next to nothing in regards to special content. So far this year we have had, well, nothing, really. The start of series seven part two is coming up on April 30th, but for the near future, nope. My big finger of blame points to one culprit – BBC America. Seriously the amount of special programmes and old episodes this channel gets is spell-bounding. They show marathons of current series, shows explaining the science of Doctor Who, Old Doctors revisited for the 50th Anniversary, and many many more. Doctor Who is a big part of our cultural history over here in England, so the decision to not give us any of the benefits that American viewers receive is perplexing.

Unfortunately, this is just an example of a show “growing up”. This process started in 2010 when the brilliant Matt Smith took over from David Tennant as the 11th Doctor, and the campaign to get Doctor Who big in America was launched. A new regeneration was perfect for newcomers to the show. New characters, new storylines and even a new head writer meant a fresh feel to the show overall. The BBC must have jumped at this opportunity to introduce more people to the Whovian (fan of Doctor Who) way of life. I think that they may have gotten a bit carried away, though, and left us in the dust, which makes me a bit sad. It’s kind of like when your favourite indie actor gets it big, and the fame goes to their head. They start doing major Hollywood blockbusters, and they lose their soul in a way. So as I said before, I believe that increased, international exposure to the show is fantastic, I love the community of Doctor Who and the people that make and star in it, but Doctor, I think the fame has gone to your head.

Jake Sidwell is studying film and wishes to possibly make his own someday. If that doesn’t work he’ll just eat crumpets and drink tea to pass the time. English, and lives somewhere that most definitely is not London.

            When I want to read great writing, I go to the men’s magazines. They’re the ones with the kind of intense, stirring pieces that last in your memory long afterwards, where in between pictures of models and write-ups of cars, there are incredible profiles of actors and writers and artists that reveal something new with every read. It was in GQ where an interview with a grieving Michelle Williams made the years-old death of Heath Ledger feel new and raw; in Details, a piece on Ben Affleck revived my respect for a man who’d lost it long ago. And it was in Esquire, back in early 2010, where I read a story on Roger Ebert so powerful and brave that I saved the issue for months afterwards, re-reading it often in the hopes of finding a sentence unseen, a word unnoticed, an emotion unfelt.

              That piece mattered to me for reasons I couldn’t identify, at first. I loved movies, yes, but I barely knew Roger Ebert, recognizing the name only because of a handful of reviews I’d recently perused. I’d never seen At the Movies or read The Chicago Sun-Times; the only reason I’d even read the Esquire article at all was because it happened to be open on my kitchen table. I began the piece planning to skim the pages, the only expectation being the hopeful addition of a few films to my must-see list. Yet I found myself pouring over every word, mesmerized by writer Chris Jones’ portrayal of a man who’d gone through so much only to come back on the other side more alive than ever. I stared at the pictures of Ebert’s disfigured face, captivated by their poignancy. His musings on film and life were witty and tender and honest all at once, painting a portrait of a person who’d seen it all and yet still had so much more to say. When Jones wrote about Ebert’s storied career, I ached with jealousy; when Ebert spoke of his battles with alcohol, cancer, and, now, adjusting to life without speech, I humbled with respect. The article startled me in the best possible way, its remarkable writing and striking portrait filling me with urgency.

             In the time since I first read the Esquire piece, I have followed every moment of Ebert’s life and career. I have laughed at his witty, often provocative Tweets, have vehemently agreed or disagreed with his passionate reviews, and have read Life, Itself, his 2011 memoir. It was this last work that solidified the already deep connection I felt to him, its wise, frank essays on film, faith and friendship resonating with me deeply. I, too, hated high school math and all things athletic, wrote for the school newspaper and printed my own magazines, and gravitated towards writing less out of interest and more out of necessity. When Ebert discussed the cancer that caused him to lose part of his face along with the abilities to eat, drink, and speak, I recognized his fear, understanding the use of humor and wit to mask the anxiety of beginning a life anew. With every piece of Ebert’s life that I unveiled, I felt our bond grow stronger, so grateful to have finally found the person who’d lived the life I hoped to emulate.

             Today, Roger Ebert passed away. I don’t yet know the cause or any other detail. It was only yesterday that he announced he would be taking a break from reviewing films to focus on his health. Like so many others, I am shocked and saddened, so deeply devastated by his death. Ebert wasn’t simply a movie reviewer; he was an idol, an inspiration, a friend. I may never have met him, but that’s irrelevant. For his many devoted readers, the bond we shared with him through reading his masterful writing transcended the barrier between celebrity and fan. Ebert connected with his readers on a level unheard of by most other writers. The fact that he managed to maintain this tie despite the loss of the voice that made him famous is astonishing, but I can’t say I’m surprised. If anyone could do it, Ebert could.

             Over the course of the next few days, details will leak out about what caused Ebert’s death. There will be obituaries and tributes, best-of lists and remembrances. Critics, writers, and fans will unite to celebrate the life of a legend, a man so remarkable that, at the film-focused college I attend, there’s already a petition circulating around the school requesting a moment of silence in his honor. Take note: the majority of students here were born in the early ‘90s and grew up in an At the Movies-less world; most likely, they fell in love with Ebert through his written work, proving that even in the age of TVs and smartphones, people will still take the time to read great writing. It’s a terrible shame that Ebert is gone, but oh, what a legacy he’s left behind. 

Rachel Simon is a college student and contributor to TheReelist who wants to be Buffy Summers and marry Tim Riggins. She’s a New York native working on her Boston accent at Emerson College. You can follow her on Twitter at @rachel_simon.

Lewis Milestone’s 1960 film, Ocean’s 11, was unlike anything the United States had seen during that era. This wasn’t because of its theatrical elements, but for the actors that it brought together. The famous Rat Pack – Peter Lawford, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., and Joey Bishop – headlined an all-star cast. They were not just celebrities, but gods of the pop culture scene. Their chemistry made Ocean’s 11 an instant classic. While the movie itself lacked depth and a strong plot, it excelled in star power. Watching the film was like giving the American public a sneak peak into the Hollywood lifestyle that these men actually lived. At times, it seemed like the movie itself was pointless, because the audience just wanted to see these five American icons interact with each other.

Then came the remake of this classic: Ocean’s Eleven. In 2001, Oscar-nominated director Steven Soderbergh was presented with the idea to reenact the casino robbery caper. Ocean’s Eleven did wonderfully at the box office and holds a “Certified Fresh” rating of 82% by Rotten Tomatoes. George Clooney and Brad Pitt led the jam-packed ensemble, and the movie did not disappoint when it came to explosions and high-octane action. What the 1960 film missed in theatrics, the 2001 slammed home. The great plot helped ease the focus of the actors’ celebrity status that the original movie used to its advantage to attract its audience.

These two movies share three things in common. They both have the same name, with just a little tweak in appearance, they both have all-star casts, and they both have similar production styles. Other than that, however, the two films are complete opposites.

When examining the differences between these two films, the audiences must consider the time period, the technology, the style of production, and a couple of key scenes that define each movie. The actual time periods of the two films are obviously different, but there is not much comparison when you size up Frank Sinatra and company to George Clooney and his ten comrades. While this is no jab at the impressive career Clooney has built, Sinatra was a worldwide figure who was known to sweep women off their feet with one-liners, witty charm, and undeniable charisma. At the time of the film, his music career had taken off and he was America’s most loveable celebrity. Similar praise can be applied to Sammy Davis Jr., Dean Martin, and the rest of the Rat Pack. In the remake, George Clooney tries his best, but he’s no Sinatra. Supporting cast members like Brad Pitt, Don Cheadle, Matt Damon, and the late Bernie Mac are great accomplices to help out Clooney, but their total body of work can’t compare to that of Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr. and Joey Bishop.

What also needs to be looked at in this category is chemistry. The Rat Pack was a group of best friends. In the 2001 remake, Brad Pitt and George Clooney fail to connect as well as their predecessors did, despite being well-known friends in real life. Going deeper into character relations, the relationships between World War II veterans offer more to the audience than the bonds between seasoned con men. While I admit it is fun to see Matt Damon use sleight of hand to rob stock investors, you find yourself more attached to the older men of the original film who are having fun trying to pull a heist in which they have no experience. The audience isn’t really sure if they can pull it off, which adds to the drama in the closing frames. In this time period category, the Oscar goes to the original.

Next, we have to examine the technology offered in the film. Obviously, the 2001 production had better cameras, the use of CGI, and digital production. The original was no slouch when it came to technology for its time period, though. While Clooney and Pitt pull off an extremely lucrative heist that involves ruining security cameras, faking being SWAT team members, setting off an EMP on the strip of Las Vegas, and blowing the bolts off of a vault door, the 1960’s movie is impressive for its time period. Still, at the end of the day, I do not think you can make an argument worth listening to for the older movie’s technology prowess after watching Pitt and company walk out of the casino with millions of dollars in their hand and Andy Garcia’s character watch a dubbed version of the events. We will have to give the remake the proper due for its use of technology.

Another aspect, arguably the most important one, is the production style. In the 1960’s Ocean’s, the movie was less of a true film by definition, attempting to survive on the Rat Pack’s star prowess. For this argument, you have to look past the Rat Pack and see the film for its worth. The only plot building we truly see is within the group. We do not see any real character arc from any of the main characters and no genuine emotion until the final 20 minutes when one of their crew members has a heart attack. By that time, it was tough for an audience to develop a true connection to the group. One enjoyable thing about the original production was how each actor played off of the other. Like I previously mentioned, the chemistry shared is undeniable and it showed on the screen. The producers knew the actors were not grade “A,” but they put them in positions to succeed. In the 2001 film, the production team tried to copy this appeal and added their spin to it. The biggest gap is found in the actors’ chemistry. Unlike the original’s harmonious group, Clooney’s group was a bunch of cons brought together by two men. It was a good attempt to deviate from the original plot and add some humor, but it took away the synergy of the production. Where the remake thrives is through its actual plot. With so many twists, turns, and dips, it keeps the audience on their toes. This energy can be seen from the minute Clooney gets blackballed to Carl Reiner passing out from an apparent heart attack (which is a great nod to the original) to the final scene of the Eleven enjoying the Fountains of Bellagio. This is much better than the dry appeal and lack of storytelling that makes the original Ocean’s hard to watch at times, where the effect of an all-star cast gets tiresome after 45 minutes. It’s easy to say that the remake holds a secure crown on the production side.

We have to break down a couple of key scenes to give a final verdict. The first and most iconic of the series in both movies are the meetings when the crews assemble to announce the plan. The Rat Pack thrives in an atmosphere like this. The camera does an excellent job of conveying the theme of camaraderie. Dean Martin’s character originally disagrees with them going through with the heist, but after a couple wisecracking jokes, the group has an “all for one and one for all chant.” This group synergy is characterized by the camera panning from member to member and then showing each hand being placed in the middle. In the remake, the group synergy is lacking. The meeting that takes place is completely different. It seems like the directors did not see the importance in this scene. All of the group members are separated in a living room, with individual shots of their reactions and comments. The only two that are constantly in the frame together are Pitt and Clooney.

The next scene that needs to be compared is the actual heist. While both movies have the con men rob multiple casinos at the same time, the production behind them is extremely different. Although both groups successfully pull off their grand scheme, the Rat Pack has this sense of calmness. They wrote the book on cool, and it’s all about going with the flow for these gentlemen, even despite the realization that they lost their fortune. Neither movie does a great job of portraying the risk of the heist, but at the end of the original, it seems like it is not about the money. They are all in it for the fun. The production does a great job of showing us the characters as bigger than the moment, even after they lose their money. In the remake, you’re left wondering what would have happened if Clooney’s crew failed. Would they have gone into a downward spiral? Would they be able to cope with not succeeding? In this film, it is all money driven. Each character worried about their cut of the pie. Clooney’s crew is so far ahead of the game, and the antagonist does not stand a chance against these expert con artists. The beauty of the Rat Pack’s film was the idea of them losing a step and trying to see if they could still had it, and even when they didn’t, they were still the coolest cats on the block.

The final scene that we need to dissect is the final frame of each movie. Plot wise, we have two different results. Our original Rat Pack does not get away with the money, while Clooney’s gang does. While these are obvious differences, the real difference is how the camera portrays our con men. Ironically, the films flip the primary traits that defined each group. In the 1960’s film, the last scene shows the group walking down Las Vegas Boulevard with the realization that they have gotten away with their robbery but not the money. The group synergy from before is nowhere to be found as the gentlemen walk in a staggered straight line behind one another. The camera does a great job of portraying this broken group by capturing each individual by themselves. The “all for one, and one for all” theme is not as evident as before. The last shot of the film is a medium close up of Sammy Davis Jr. singing his famous “E-e-eleven” song that he wrote for the film. In the final scenes of the 2001 film, we find them in front of Bellagio Fountain after Clooney and Pitt have gotten away with the money and the rest of the group has left the hotel. The camera begins panning down the line for a medium close up of each character taking in the beauty of the fountains and reflecting on their success of the night. It’s a special scene because before, the characters are seen as human rather than con men. “Clair de Lune,” translated to mean “moonlight,” softly plays in the background. As each man takes in the moonlight, we see a final wide-angle shot of all eleven before each man drifts off into the night and back to his everyday life. Throughout this entire frame, not one word is said, just looks of happiness and reassurance from one another that they have had a job well done. It truly is a beautiful shot and is Soderbergh putting his own artistic stamp on the movie.

Lastly, the original film lacks someone as comedically talented as the later movie’s Bernie Mac. While Mac was more familiar with leading roles where he could dominate a film with his comedic brilliance, he shines in a backseat role in the 2001 film. His most memorable moments were at the beginning of the heist, such as his scene with Damon and Garcia in a back office in the casino that left audiences in tears of laughter. “What you want from me man? Want me to get on the table and dance? Like for me to shine your shoes? Want me to smile at you? ‘Cause you definitely ain’t gon’ let me deal the cards. Might as well call it whitejack!”

1960’s Ocean’s 11 and 2011′s Ocean’s Eleven both offer something worth watching the length of their run times. Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack were icons of their time and audiences paid mostly just to see the entertainment they brought to the big screen. What the film lacked in substance and acting was trumped by the 11′s star power. Sinatra’s crew formed a likable bond that connected with the audience. Meanwhile, George Clooney’s group of well-rounded con men took Las Vegas by storm before you could even see a cloud in the sky. The ultimate difference between the films is going is the viewer’s opinion. While the original movie does not hold much value in special effects in today’s cinema, it is a classic for its storytelling and the bond between its characters. The remake takes the original and uses it to make its own great story. Whether Sinatra and the Rat Pack are the better fit for your cinema taste than Clooney and company is up to you; my choice is going to be the original.

Last week, the creator of Veronica Mars, Rob Thomas, along with the show’s star, Kristen Bell, raised over three million dollars on Kickstarter to fund the movie version of the cancelled cult TV show. Through fan contributions and the power of the Internet, they exceeded their goal in a matter of hours, and it looks like Veronica Mars: The Movie will be coming to the big screen sometime next year. Judging from the explosion of the blog world, fans are rejoicing, the cast is psyched to reunite, and Hollywood insiders are beginning to take note of Kickstarter’s powerful new role in the film industry. There’s no question that what Thomas and Bell have accomplished is impressive. However, I believe that it’s a huge mistake.

I’ve never seen Veronica Mars. I have no doubt that it’s a good show, and that many people were disappointed when it was cancelled after just three seasons. Yet if they think that a movie version based off the show is a good idea, they’re wrong. More often than not, films based off television shows fail to capture the charm and vivacity of their original forms. The movie versions are flat and uninspired, leaving the viewers with unanswered questions and unresolved feelings. Need an example? Here are three: Sex and the City. Bewitched. The Last Airbender. There are exceptions, of course, such as last year’s great 21 Jump Street, but they are few and far between. Most likely, the devoted, intense fans that watched Veronica Mars won’t be satisfied by a movie version of their beloved TV show, and it’s doubtful that it’ll give them the fulfilling conclusion they expect. If anything, the film will probably leave them more frustrated than they were back in 2007 when the show went off the air.

I know this must all sound cynical. I really do hope thatthe team behind the Veronica Mars movie makes a film that lives up to the series’ good rep. But judging from the past successes (or lack thereof) of films based on TV shows, it just seems unlikely to happen. I know that if I were a Veronica Mars fan, I’d be nervous for a movie and the frustration it’s likely to bring. Yet I also know that I’d still be excited by the prospect of my favorite show returning from the dead, and that I’d probably be first in line to see the film when it was released. And with the strength of the response to the Veronica Mars movie, it’s looking more and more likely that this will be a conundrum that I, along with many other fans of cancelled-too-soon TV shows, might face in the near future.

Pretty soon, there will be Kickstarter movements for all of my favorite cult TV shows. There will be fundraising efforts for film versions of Gilmore Girls, Friday Night Lights, Freaks and Geeks. They will find support from a small army of passionate fans, and soon, if studios provide backing and cast members sign on, the movies will be made. I won’t want to see them, but I know I will, because my desire to watch anything that’s related to my beloved shows will cancel out the likely regret I’ll have after actually seeing the films. I wish this weren’t the case. I don’t want my favorite TV shows to be revived as films, because I know I’ll be bound for disappointment once I see them. I love Gilmore Girls, but I was satisfied with its conclusion, and I don’t want the film version to possibly ruin the peace the finale allowed me to make with the show’s flawed last season. Friday Night Lights was an incredible show, and its ending was perfect, but as much as I love the prospect of seeing Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton reunite, it won’t be worth the strong possibility that a film version of the show will leave me with a multitude of questions and a long-lasting sense of frustration. Even a show like Freaks and Geeks, which didn’t have a satisfying conclusion, won’t benefit from being made into movies. No matter how hard the filmmakers may try, the movie versions will fail to live up to the greatness of their shows, and viewers won’t be given any sort of closure.

It’s still early, and who knows what will happen. The fundraising success of Veronica Mars could prove to be an anomaly, and the film versions of the other shows I mentioned above might never get made. I truly hope that’s the case, because I can’t bear to see lesser quality movie versions overshadow my perfect memories of my favorite TV series.

Rachel Simon is a college student and contributor to TheReelist who wants to be Buffy Summers and marry Tim Riggins. She’s a New York native working on her Boston accent at Emerson College. You can follow her on Twitter at @rachel_simon.