Blog-a-Movie Month Thoughts, Clarifications and Acceptance Speech

Well, another Blog-a-Month challenge has come and gone, and again I have prevailed. Lance and Scott didn't even bother to claim victory, such was the enormity of the gap between us. I'd like to thank you, constant reader, for anointing me champion yet again. Without your comments and support, I wouldn't have been able to complete this most arduous and worthy of tasks.

Many of you have written and suggested different "reviews" for me to write. I'd like to clarify that I wasn't writing reviews, per se. I used to do that for my college newspaper, and what I've written during BAM month wouldn't fly there.

Early on, I wrote about how our own experiences and expectations inform our enjoyment (or lack thereof) of movies. I took most objective film criticism out of these entries and tried to judge them based on what I personally felt about the movie, which depended largely on how old I was when I saw it, what was going on my life, and what I'd heard about the film before I watched it. Proper journalistic film reviews do not and should not be written that way. But it's my blog, and no one's paying me, so I can do whatever I want.

My grading system reflects that. Sometimes, the hardest part of the pieces would come at the end, when I had to give it a mark. Oddly, a lot of times other people's critiques of the film would factor into the grade.

For instance, Taken probably isn't a D+ unless you factor in that it made a ton of money. When crappy movies are financially successful, this makes me angry, and I take that rage out on middling films. Ditto award-winners. Million Dollar Baby won Best Picture. I consider that a travesty. As a film existing in a vacuum, it's probably better than the C I gave it. But film doesn't exist in a vacuum, now does it? Black holes do. I think.

On the other hand, I tried to write about movies that I consider underrated, thus upping their grades. Ironically, I've now increased people's expectations for something like Kicking and Screaming to the point that they will almost certainly be let down. Trainspotting may not actually be an A+, but it came out when I was in college, and I had the time to watch it roughly 27 times.

I'll end the month with two more examples to illustrate my point: My favorite and least favorite movies of all time.

The Empire Strikes Back is the first film I can remember seeing in the theatre. I was four years old, and I don't think I'd seen the original Star Wars (A New Hope). Remember, this was in the days before most people had access to watching movies in their homes, other than on t.v.

I was enthralled (and a little terrified) from the first scenes where Luke is attacked by the snow monster. I was convinced it was the same one that lived at the top of the Matterhorn ride at Disneyland. Then came the AT-AT walkers. They could've ended the movie after the AT-AT attack, and I would've left convinced that there would never be a better one. By the time Vader reveals he's Luke's father, I think it's safe to say that my mind was not just blown. I'd say obliterated is a better term. I spent the next three years driving my dad insane by repeatedly asking the same two questions: "Is Darth Vader really Luke's dad?" (I was still hopefully clinging to Luke's assertion, "It's a lie! It's not possible!") and "When does the next movie come out?"

As I grew, the film grew with me. It's undeniably the darkest of the original flicks, and there are no wasted moments. Every scene either develops the characters or moves the story along (which cannot be said for the unfortunate prequels). It's got one of the greatest ad-libs of all time (Han's "I know" response to Leia's declaration of love), a great cliffhanger ending, plus Boba Fett and Lando Calrissian. Magnificent.

Nolanometer Final Grade: A+

Transformers is the perfect example of a very bad film that has now reached national disaster status because of the reactions of others.

I'm not going to go into everything that's wrong with this excruciating movie because it's New Year's Eve, and I have a party to go to. Lance does it here, anyway, and I'd just be repeating what he wrote.

What really makes me hate Michael Bay's cynical, clusterfuck of a film (and although I haven't seen the second one, from everything I've heard, it's even worse) is that it appeals to only the most base instincts of moviegoers. Actually, it doesn't even appeal to that. As Lance noted, the action scenes are loud and confusing. There's absolutely nothing likable about the film, at least for someone who has seen movies before and cares about the medium of film.

Yet, teenagers and unsophisticated adults (I chose that last adjective carefully- you should've seen some of the ones I discarded) made this a giant hit. Many will assure you that it's one of the best movies ever, if not the best.

Here's where personal bias comes into play. If you don't work with teens, you probably didn't have to hear over and over again how "amazing" this piece of dung is. You didn't see the way Bay and co. were able to market and sell this abortion to the unthinking masses. You didn't have to deal with the fact that rewarding detritus like Transformers with huge box office receipts only means that they're going to make more awful, noisy, plotless nonsense like this, and I'll have to hear about how "amazing" those movies are with every coming generation, while I have to try and convince them that there just might be more merit to, say, Shakespeare.

Anyway, on its own, Transformers is probably somewhere in the D range. But because I'm stuck with all these ignorant admonitions about its greatness, it's currently my least favorite movie ever. Until Michael Bay fucks up some other treasured childhood memory, that is.

Nolanometer Final Grade: F-

Again, thanks for reading all this indignant nonsense. I'm announcing my retirement from any other Blog-a-Month endeavors, as I'm going to have a son near the end of next month. From what I'm told, they take up at least 15 minutes or so of your time per day, so squeezing in mandatory blogs could be tricky. Have no fear; I'm not retiring from blogging in general. As long as you keep reading them, I'll keep writing them. Remember, without feedback, I don't know who's paying attention, so drop me a quick comment whenever you can to let me know you're out there.

As a parting gift, be sure to check out three special edition blogs to start off the new year. I'll be posting my top music and movies of the decade. So you've got that going for you, which is nice.

Bowling for Columbine

Michael Moore's best movie is also his most misunderstood. He has a well-deserved reputation as a dyed-in-the-wool liberal, but this is perhaps his least political film. People who haven't seen it (largely because they despise Moore and won't watch anything involving him) think it's a pro-gun control film, and that message is certainly present. But it's certainly not the overarching one.

What Moore set out to do was explore a question that most citizens just assume as a way of life in this country: Why do Americans kill each other with guns far more than anyone else does? What is it about our culture that causes gun violence?

As he points out in the film, if it were simply a matter of the number of guns or having access to them, Canadians would have even more gun deaths than we do. If it were violent video games or movies causing, then lots of other countries would have the same problem. If it were merely "a violent history," then wouldn't nations with a track record of starting wars (yeah, we're lookin' at you, Germany) have bigger problems?

There is simply something about the American character that causes us to solve our problems with firearms. Moore's thesis is that stricter gun laws would help, but more importantly, our attitudes need to change. We simply must learn to solve conflicts non-violently. That applies from the street corner to the Middle East.

Although we think of ourselves as a brave people, Columbine shows us to be a fearful nation, overreacting to every conceivable danger. It shows us Canadians who leave their front doors unlocked. It doesn't make them an ideal society; people still get robbed. It does show that they don't let fear govern their lives, along with their national foreign policy.

Most identify the movie by its final scene, where Moore confronts Charlton Heston, then the head of the National Rifle Association, who refused to cancel an NRA conference in Denver just a week after the Columbine shooting. Depending on where you fall on the political spectrum, you either saw that segment as an ambush of a harmless old man, or as a "gotcha" moment where the leader of a powerful and damaging organization is confronted with the consequences of his group's actions. You can probably figure out which side I fall on.

To me, though, the film's most telling moment is when Moore interviews the father of one of the Columbine massacre's victims. He asks the man, "What is it about Americans that makes us kill each other with guns?" The father replies, "I don't know, what is it?" Moore answers, "That's what I'm asking you!"

The film doesn't have a definitive answer (nor solution), but at least the questions it asks are fascinating and essential. In fact, I've had teenage students watch the whole thing, not even realize they've just viewed a documentary. Some of them even want to discuss it afterward. Believe me, that's quite a feat, no matter what your politics are.

Nolanometer Final Grade: A-

Marley and Me

I don't cry at movies. Ever. In fact, I don't really cry all that much in general. Maybe once every couple of years or so at a funeral, but that's it. Occasionally, I'll get a bit choked up and feel some tears welling while watching something like this, but that's about it.

This movie destroyed me.

I know I'm not alone, especially because my mom told me about weeping when she and my stepdad saw it in the movie theatre. But moms cry all the time. And here's the thing: I had read the book. I knew exactly what was going to happen. From looking at the dopey poster and the goofy trailers, I thought they were going to turn the film into a schmaltzy romantic comedy.

I give the filmmakers credit. It could've easily been merely a vehicle for Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson featuring comic relief from an adorable lab. But it's really not a rom-com at all. There aren't a lot of sappy moments. The couple can't even "meet cute;" the story starts after they've already been together for some time. It's a far better movie than it has any right to be, since it's essentially just the story of a man trying to deal with his family, his career, and his dog.

Of course, the dog is key. Marley is "the worst dog ever," but that's part of his charm. Well, at least most of the time. He drives Aniston's character to the brink at one point; she even threatens to get rid of him for good. Ultimately, the sweet and adorable moments Marley provides (such as the touching scene where he calmly rests his head in a sobbing Aniston's lap after she learns she has miscarried) make him a valued member of the family.

I'm reasonably certain that I'm not spoiling anything by going into the ending here, but just in case you've never heard of this flick, you might want to stop reading now. Anyway, Marley gets old near the end of the film and eventually must be put to sleep. I knew this was going to happen. I had read the friggin' book. I thought I was prepared. But man, Director David Frankel really went for the heartstrings here.

If this were a movie about a dying person, I would've rolled my eyes and moaned at the emotional manipulation. But here's the thing: Dogs are better than people. They're more loyal, loving, giving, fun, repentant, protective, etc. One of my favorite sayings is "Lord, please help me be the person my dog thinks I am."

What the movie does well is show the loving simplicity of the relationship between a dog and its owner. All the other aspects of Wilson's life are complicated and full of trials and tribulations. But every day when he comes home, Marley's happy to see him. Marley will always go for a run. Marley will always chase the ball.

Until Marley starts limping a little. And then his stomach twists on itself. And then Wilson is hunched over a terminal Marley, lying limply on the veterinarian's table, and he's stroking the dog, and telling Marley "You're a great dog" over and over...

At that point, I was still holding it together...barely. But then they cut to a shot of the oldest son, putting in a videotape full of Marley moments with the family. Back to the vet's, where the camera shows the needle going into the i.v. tube, and it's all too much. If you've ever loved a dog through its natural life and had to put it down, you will sob just like I did. By the time they bury Marley in the backyard, and they ask the boy if there's anything he wants to tell his dog, and he tearily responds, "He knows," well, you'd have to be Stalin or Idi Amin or something to not be affected.

This qualifies as a pretty good movie that I never want to see ever again. It's just too much trouble to change that "Has gone ___ days without crying" sign hanging in my mantic.

Nolanometer Final Grade: B

Doomsday

A few weeks back, while discussing illegal immigration, a few of my more machismo boys suggested building "a giant wall, like in Doomsday!" Be reassured that I attempted to bring the conversation back to a more intellectual direction, but they kept referencing scenarios from this movie I'd never heard of with a degree of superficial reverence only teenage boys can muster. I saw that it was showing on cable, so I dvr'd it and took it on one night.

It's a loud, gory, unrelentingly stupid film. That's what I get for listening to my students. To be fair, it isn't horrible. It has its charms (likable or interesting lead characters are not among them). However, it plays like a mishmash of three or four different 80's apocalypse movies, with The Road Warrior being most prevalent, along with a dash of Escape from New York. What seemed fresh and edgy to these kids who've likely never seen the source material was hackneyed for me.

Doomsday straddles the line between wanting to be an big, suspenseful action thriller and laughing at itself, tongue firmly in cheek. Director Neil Marshall (who played it straight in the excellent The Descent) really needed to choose a side here and decide whether he was making an homage to those 80's films or just ripping off their most sensational aspects. He never quite gets there, and the result is a bloody mess.

Are you waiting for me to tell you the plot? Trust me; it doesn't really matter. The premise is that Scotland has been walled of because of a killer virus, and those left behind the wall (but immune to the virus) go all Mad Max. It's a zombie movie without actual zombies, just the dying and the insane. There's rape, cannibalism, and a stage show with pyrotechnics.

There is one truly unique, memorable aspect to Doomsday. If you like beheadings, this is your flick. There have got to be at least five or six different instances of decapitation. Some of them are posthumous, some of them sudden and shocking, and at least a couple are replete with the head still reacting after being detached or even shrieking as it flies through the air.

If that's your kind of thing, you may think this is the greatest movie ever. Twenty years ago, I'd be right there with you.

Nolanometer Final Grade: C-

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Incubus, Dostoevsky, Law and Order, white wine, NASCAR. What do all these things have in common? They are beloved by many, but I just don't get them. The Harry Potter phenomenon belongs at the top of that list.

Before the HP legions descend on me in fury, I'm not saying that Harry Potter is stupid, or poorly written, or trendy, or anything. I just don't get it.

When I tell this to fans of the franchise, they always look at me as if I just said, "You know what tastes good? Poop on a stick."

They always have the remedy: "Well, have you even read the books or watched the movies?"

I tell them yes, I read the first two books. They both struck me as elongated Scooby Doo episodes, where a group of young detectives must solve a mystery that reveals the villain at the end. They always say, "Oh, but it gets so much better!" Well, if I'm not into it at all after two full novels, I don't think a lightbulb's suddenly going to go off in my head when I plow through five more.

Then there are the movies. After yesterday's interminable viewing of Half-Blood Prince, I've now seen all of them except Order of the Phoenix. I guess I sort of liked Prisoner of Azkaban. That's about the best thing I can say for any of them.

Clearly, I'm missing whatever d.n.a. that causes one to like Harry Potter. There's really no reason I shouldn't. I like fantasy; the Lord of the Rings movies are great. I like coming-of-age stories. Many people whom I love and respect are huge fans of the series, most notably my wife.

I just don't get it. It doesn't work for me. I have complaints, but they're all pretty nitpicky.

I really dislike that although Dumbledore and the rest of the staff are supposedly powerful wizards, they don't do seem to do anything. Harry and his crew are left alone to battle evil on their own. Hogwart's also seems to have more double agents than all the seasons of 24 put together. Are there any "good," effectual, adult wizards? Not to my knowledge.

The kids are also put in unnecessarily dangerous situations. I found fault with some of the scenarios in Goblet of Fire. They were going to let one of the kids drown as part of the competition? What kind of school does that?

I know what fans will say: There wouldn't be a story if Dumbledore and the adults had their poop together. There needs to be danger. Ok, fine. Give me a reason why the kids are on their own so much; that's all I'm asking. I haven't seen it in either of the books I read or any of the movies.

I also can't deal with the wand fighting. The wands seem to be able to do lots of different things, with firing lightning the most common. But whenever there's a battle, it's just a lot of waving wands and people flying around. It leaves me cold.

Then there's quidditch. Quidditch is the dumbest game ever, and I will not argue this. You win and the game ends if you catch the snitch, yet only one person from each team is looking for it. Everyone else is flying around, bashing into to each other, trying to throw balls through hoops that net you only a fraction of the points that a snitch does. This makes absolutely no sense.

It's also incredibly dangerous. Presumably, players fall off their brooms all the time, from high in the air. As far as I know, there is no net nor safety precautions of any kind. Wouldn't this result in a lot of death?

I can also never really figure out what's going on. I know that Harry Potter fans could explain this to me, but the problem isn't that I am too stupid to understand complex plot structure. The problem is that the story never gains enough momentum for me to care about what happens next. I know there's a bad guy named Voldemort, but I still haven't figured out what he's doing that's so bad, other than boring me to death.

The Half-Blood Prince struck me as a bit darker than the earlier films, so it was perhaps more enjoyable. Still, I found myself bored by it, and my attention started to wane. The thing is, I know there must be something to it; it's got a great score on rottentomatoes (as do most of the other films). Whatever it is, I'm not getting it (although my wife didn't love this one either, at one point commenting that Prince "felt like it was going on forever," and also being confused as to what was going on).

I've come to accept that, for whatever reason, Harry Potter is just never going to grab me the way it does so many other people. It actually kind of makes me sad. I love a good franchise and anticipation of sequels as much as anyone, but I just can't share in the excitement.

Nolanometer Final Grade: C+

My Ten Favorite Albums of the Decade

With the aughts coming to a close, I figured it was time to make some pop culture lists. Why? Everyone loves lists. They're fun to make, and they're even more fun to argue about. Here's my initial post to my top-10 t.v. dramas list, if you're curious.

Do you know what's really scary? I work with teens, and most of them have only a vague concept of what an album is. I'm not kidding. Ask them the song they're listening to, then ask them what album it's from. Most of the time, they won't know. It's a dying art form. But I'm kickin' it old school, so the following list contains only cd's that I actually own.

Disclaimer: Notice the word "favorite"? That's key. These are the ten albums that I played the most when I was alone in my car. This is not a judgment of musical quality, which is a highly subjective exercise, anyway. I'll leave the top-10 lists based on artistic merit to Rolling Stone. I'm a sucker for poppy tunes that make me sing along. The good news? That means you won't see any entries where I try to sound hip by naming some obscure Belgian triangle-playing outfit.

It was tough for me to narrow it down to ten, so first permit me a lengthy Honorable Mention list, in no particular order:

Pearl Jam: Backspacer (2009), U2: All That You Can't Leave Behind (2000), Taking Back Sunday: Tell All Your Friends (2002) and Where You Want to Be (2004), The Strokes: Is This It (2001) and Room on Fire (2003), Dashboard Confessional: MTV Unplugged (2002), Less Than Jake: In With the Out Crowd (2006), Jack's Mannequin, Everything in Transit (2005), All-American Rejects: Move Along (2005), Blink-182: Blink 182 (2003), Liz Phair: Liz Phair (2003), Yellowcard: Ocean Avenue (2003), Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Show Your Bones (2006), Fall Out Boy: From Under the Cork Tree (2005), Muse: Absolution (2003), Bloc Party: Silent Alarm (2005), Pink: Missundaztood (2001), Various Artists: Garden State Soundtrack (2004), Cake: Comfort Eagle (2001), Fountains of Wayne: Welcome Interstate Managers (2003), Regina Spektor: Begin to Hope (2006), Our Lady Peace: Spiritual Machines (2001), MXPX: The Ever-Passing Moment (2000), Radiohead: Kid A (2000), The Killers: Sam's Town (2006), Weezer: Make Believe (2005) and Raditude (2009).

On to the Top 10:
10. Coldplay: A Rush of Blood to the Head (2002)
By far their best album. It appears they shot their wad here, because their last two haven't been close. I love "In My Place" and "The Scientist," but my favorite is the haunting title track from the end of the album. Moody, melodic, and brilliant.






9. Avril Lavigne: Under My Skin (2004)
I hear the snickers, and I don't care. Avril's sophomore effort displays a wide range of her considerable talent. From the angsty up-tempo of "He Wasn't" and "Happy Ending" to the heartbroken ballads "Don't Tell Me" and "How Does it Feel?" to her touching tribute to her deceased grandmother, "Slipped Away," this is a much more mature (but just as enjoyable) effort than her debut record.


8. Frightened Rabbit: The Midnight Organ Fight (2008)
I promise this is will be the only band on this list you've never heard of. If you like sensitive Scottish indie rock (and who doesn't?), give this album a try. If you enjoy this inspirational tribute to secularism ("Head Rolls Off"), then ask me to burn you a copy of the cd. I probably will, just to spread the unadulterated joy with which this video fills me:
I go to maybe one concert every two years, and this was the last one I saw. I even interacted with the band (i.e. yelled out something witty and got a response), but that's a story for another blog.

7. Jimmy Eat World: Futures (2004)
The first of two albums on the list of the band I'm anointing as my favorite of the decade. It's highlighted by a cadre of one-word song titles ("Work," "Pain," "Kill," and "Futures") that range from earnest to angry. It's capped of by one of the best album closers ever, the ridiculously epic "23." A confident album made by a band in its prime.



6. Sum 41: Underclass Hero (2007)
This criminally underrated album can't seem to find its way out of the door pocket of my car. Many of the tracks are filled with poetic, Canadian rage at lead singer Deryck Whibley's parents or ineffective politicians. "Walking Disaster" is the most foot-stomping anthem from an impressive field. But the record also has a soft side, with a few excellent ballads like "With Me" that I can only assume were aimed at Whibley's then-wife...Avril Lavigne. If you don't think that doesn't get it bonus points in my book, you haven't been paying attention.

5. Weezer: Green Album (2001)
The captain has just turned on the "every single song on the record is good" sign. Weezer's "comeback" album is the sweet blend of the poppiness of their first album with a dash of melancholy from their second. Clocking in at only half an hour or so, it makes every second count with hits like "Hash Pipe" and "Island in the Sun." I actually prefer the thrusting guitar beat of the opener, "Don't Let Go," the catchy, repetitive verses of "Simple Pages," and the soulful lament of the closer, "Oh, Girlfriend" (by far the longest song on the album, at 3:49). Weezer have had other good records this decade (see above), but this is the only one that doesn't contain filler. Nearly flawless.

4. The Killers: Hot Fuss (2004)
Just incredibly addictive. The Killers brought back the 80's and gave them an edge. The last time I air-keyboarded before hearing the superlative opener, "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine" was probably for the Thompson Twins.

The album runs the gamut. You've got the dance club pulse of "Somebody Told Me." Then there's the distinct guitar riff and tortured chorus of "Mr. Brightside." Just when you think you've got the sound down, they bring in a gospel choir for the incredibly, stupidly fun-to-chant "I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier" in "All These Things That I've Done." The only downside is how front-loaded the record is, which makes the merely decent second half pale in comparison. But, my God. Those first five songs...

3. Jimmy Eat World: Bleed American (2001)
How often does an album change one's life, or at least one's perception of music? I have to give credit to my students for this one. They introduced me to JEW (yes, I know that Clarity was their breakthrough, but I'd never heard it) just before "The Middle" blew up. To be honest, if I'd only heard "The Middle," I probably wouldn't have given the band a second look. Although it's still JEW's most well-known song, it's one of my least favorites on the album.

I loved this record so much that it inspired me to start listening to other bands in the emo-pop genre. Without Bleed American, I might've never gotten into Taking Back Sunday, Jack's Mannequin, Yellowcard, or Dashboard Confessional. My faves here are "Get it Faster," "The Authority Song," "My Sundown," and of course, "A Praise Chorus."

2. My Chemical Romance: The Black Parade (2006)
I know lots of my contemporaries are turned off by the band's name, or hell, even the font on the cover. It does look pretty Hot Topic. Well, that's their loss. This is one of my favorite concept albums ever, and it's actually the first one I thought of when I started trying to figure out my top ten of the decade.

It practically sounds like a greatest hits album; there are seven or eight songs on here that I ended up putting on different mixes. The album is best played through from the beginning, however, which is what's such a shame about the way people listen to music nowadays, picking and choosing singles.

I love the Queen-esque bombast and theatrics. I love the soaring anthems. I love that this young band had the balls to go all-in at the risk of looking overly earnest and pretentious. I especially love the breathtaking tandem of "Disenchanted" and "Famous Last Words" that close out this brilliant rock opera.

1. Green Day: American Idiot (2004)
One of my favorite bands' best work- a quantum leap forward. I'm going to de-friend the next person who tells me Dookie is a better record. I just don't have room for that kind of stupid in my life.

American Idiot was released at the perfect time, just before the 2004 presidential election. Naively, I actually believed at the time that this album's power could help sway the populace away from the evil forces of Captain Shit-for-Brains. I was wrong, but that doesn't detract from American Idiot's brilliant amalgam of rage, despair, and hope.

How many other albums this decade spawned a Broadway musical? As I wrote in my blog about the show, one thing that struck me was that the first four songs are all home runs: The title track, "Jesus of Suburbia," "Holiday," and "Boulevard of Broken Dreams." It's like listening to a greatest hits soundtrack of the decade. The back end of the album isn't exactly filler, either, with "Letterbomb," "Wake Me Up When September Ends," "Homecoming," and the sublime closer "Whatsername."

American Idiot is the reason that we should still treasure albums, rather than picking and choosing singles. It's a cohesive rock opera, and not only is it my favorite record of the decade, I'd also argue it's the best, period.

Milk

I wrote in an earlier entry that I feel that Milk should've won Best Picture last year over Slumdog Millionaire, and I won't beat a dead horse. I don't have anything against Slumdog; I just don't think it's nearly as weighty or timeless as Milk. I also realize that my connection to Gus Van Sant's biopic about slain San Francisco city supervisor Harvey Milk is largely personal and biases my judgment.

I moved to San Francisco in 2003, renting a flat with two roommates in a quiet neighborhood called Noe Valley, which borders the infamous Castro district (in fact, one of my cross streets was Castro). San Francisco is essentially run by a mayor and 11 city supervisors. My new address was in the same district Milk represented during his term in the late 70's.

In February of 2004, Mayor Gavin Newsome legalized gay marriage in San Francisco. Sure, he didn't have the authority to do this, and it was largely a political stunt, but it's hard to quantify how it energized the denizens of The City. One day during those few weeks, Eileen and I were driving through The City, and we began to get frustrated with what seemed like an unexplainable traffic jam. After 10 minutes or so, our exasperation turned to elation when we saw what was causing the hold up- we were nearing City Hall. The same steps where Harvey Milk had given rabble-rousing speeches 25 years earlier were now filled with a line of gay couples, many dressed for the occasion and holding signs, waiting to finally have their love legally acknowledged inside that beautiful building.

I honked the horn, and Eileen rolled down the window and yelled "Congratulations!" Many of those in line waved back, smiles lighting up their faces. Perhaps it's hard to relate, but this was one of the most purely happy moments of my life. For that one instant, all the old prejudices and ugliness died away, and all that remained was joy and love. Even when the state stopped and invalidated the marriages, everyone who'd been around those events had something that perhaps they hadn't felt before: Hope. Harvey's legacy lived on.

In 2006, I moved in with Eileen, at the top of the hill in the Castro. For the first time in my life, I was a minority of sorts; there were far more gay people in my building and neighborhood than straights (or "breeders," as we're sometimes derisively called).

The news that renowned director Gus Van Sant was bringing A-list star Sean Penn to the Castro in order to portray Milk's life on film had the neighborhood buzzing. The Castro got a facelift: The area's landmark, the struggling Castro theatre, was remodeled in a vintage 70's style for authenticity. Other businesses agreed to be superficially transformed with older signs and window dressings while posting notices (taken down during actual filming) that informed passers-by that yes, this was still, in fact, "The Sausage Factory." Only in The Castro is that the local pizza joint's name.

For a few months in early 2008, you never knew when you'd be detoured around Castro street, night or day. It never bothered me much. I loved movies, and now one was being made in my own backyard. One night, as I was coming home from playing softball across town, they were filming the scene where Emile Hirsch's character addresses the angry mob. I parked a couple blocks away and got out, hoping to watch film history. Instead, I nearly got frostbite while watching a bunch of 10-second takes that only involved extras. I saw the top of Van Sant's head at one point and called it a night.

The film would've had to be dreadful for it to be a disappointment for me. On the contrary, it's mostly everything that I hoped it would be. I give it a lot of credit for not shying away from Milk's sexual appetite and not depicting him as a politically correct saint (he affectionately refers to Diego Luna's character as "Taco"). Josh Brolin is great as Milk's assassin, fellow supervisor Dan White. Van Sant's inter-splicing of old newsreels with new footage lends the film a documentary feel. It's a fascinating window into San Francisco history.

Then there are the political implications. The movie's central battle (and eventual gay rights victory) is about a state ballot initiative, Proposition 6. Unbelievably, Prop 6 sought to ban gays and lesbians from teaching in California's public schools, with the possible power to dismiss those who supported them as well. It's nearly unfathomable to believe that this happened as recently as 1978, or that it would've passed without the mobilization of thousands of gay activists who chose to come out to their families, friends, and communities in order to show that gays were already valued members of society, not deviants and pedophiles, as the bill implied.

Of course, the movie came out just as the most recent controversy over gay rights flared up, with the state Supreme Court's legalization of same-sex marriage and the subsequent ratification of Prop 8, which took it back. This was obviously a huge setback for civil rights (to read my feelings about it, click here), and a movie can't make that all go away.

Students sometimes ask me why I mark them down for saying something they don't like is "gay" or calling each other "fag." If I'm not gay, why do I care?

Well, I wasn't around in the 60's. I didn't get to protest segregation or the Vietnam war. This is my generation's civil rights battle, and in many ways it's the final frontier of the war. Movies like Milk show that those still battling gay rights are swimming upstream against the current of history.

Harvey Milk understood that 30 years ago. He knew as long as you can give people one thing, they would never truly give up. Had he been alive to see the passage of Prop 8, I think he would've shrugged, pointed to the increasingly frequent legalization of gay marriages all around the world, and repeated his signature line:

You gotta give 'em hope.

Nolanometer Final Grade: A

PS: For another excellent take on this film from the fascinating perspective of someone who was once on the other side, check out my colleague Joel Swett's blog.