Just a few disorganized thoughts on the movie Frank, which is often wonderful and often stupefyingly frustrating:

• Michael Fassbender is a brilliant actor. What he does with body language is fascinating; he never reaches or pushes too far. 
• There's a fine line between being surprised by a movie and feeling jerked around by arbitrary plot and tone shifts.
• A movie/play is at its most maddening not when it's bad, but when you can feel the writer & director on the verge of brilliance, but they won't let themselves sustain it because they don't trust in what they've created. 
• I'm not sure how 80 - 110 minutes became a length standard for American films. I'm all for trimming the fat, but the last two new movies I've watched - Frank and the Grand Budapest Hotel - might have benefited from at another half hour, as long as it was used wisely.
• Still, both movies also introduced unnecessary plot threads. Grand Budapest features stunningly glorious visuals and revels in very precise human behavior and language, but the tall tale keeps getting sidetracked by its own whimsy as it unfolds. (No matter - it's still fantastic.) Frank, on the other hand, doesn't have enough faith in the titular character, the music he creates, and the way he affects those around him, and sends us on a Part Two that feels like a different, dumbed-down movie - one that ignores some of the more interesting questions asked in Part One. Worse, a good portion of the latter half hinged on the wildly inconsistent behavior and motivations of the "audience character," John, who makes some remarkably stupid choices. The more we consider what he's been through, the less sense his behavior makes. 
• I love Maggie Gyllenhaal. She is a fearless actress who looks like a real person. Her character in Frank is far from "likable," but Gyllenhaal gives her dimensions and steers clear of cliche and stereotype. We get her. It's an excellent performance.
• There are a couple characters in Frank who are absolute ciphers. I'm blaming you, screenwriters. I realize you wanna focus on the lead singer with the giant fake head, but you gotta give the rhythm section something.
• The first fifteen minutes are beautifully executed. They're funny, mysterious, and entertaining. 
• At times, Frank does a great job of exploring and questioning the link between mental illness and creativity. But it's deflating when some of the mental illness becomes the kind of movie mental illness that only flares up to create conflict or propel the plot in a different direction (consider Frank's "likable" song). The actors sell it best they can, though.
• Despite my issues with the John character, I really like how he thinks he changes and grows during the course of the movie, when he's actually regressing a bit. That's something you don't see much. 
• It's good to have themes in movies. But it's less good to allow a character, late in the film, to explain one of the themes to you. In case you missed it.
• It's perilous to portray the results of creativity in a movie. Consider, for example, how bland and tuneless poor Mr. Holland's opus turned out to be. But the music in Frank is breathtaking. It's alive. There are a thousand ways the music we hear could have gone wrong, but it's kind of exhilirating how well the songwriters and musicians walked that tightrope. The word "amazing" is way overused, but some of this music amazed me.
• Despite my frustrations with the movie, I recommend Frank (which I have been dying to see for weeks now), especially to those with a fascination for offbeat music. It'll stay with you, and it's often entertaining and smart, even when it isn't. 

• Finally: Jill and I were very happy to see certain musicians thanked in the credits. 

If you've seen Frank and wanna talk about it, make with the comments. Jill and I would love to hear your thoughts. It's that kind of movie. 

If you love Christmas pop music as much as I do, you know that 90% of it is dreadful. (You also probably apologize to your significant other a lot.) For every "Fairytale of New York," "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)," and "Merry Christmas from the Family," there are dozens of cynical little crapcicles that reek of contractual obligations ("Step Into Christmas"), wretchedly puerile "jokey" songs ("Grandma Got Run Over etc."), 
overproduced/uninspired versions of public domain carols (pretty much every R&B or country version of "Silent Night"), and well-meaning originals that land on the wrong side of the hypnotic/annoying line ("Wonderful Christmastime"). 

But still - that remaining 10% does wonders for filling one with a warm, nostalgic glow when it's time to see if that heavy jacket still fits. (It does - you look great.) And here's a wonderful collection of 80 Christmas pop songs from the 40s - early 60s that's currently on sale at Amazon for six bucks. Make with the clicks:

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00GYV17AQ/ref=dm_ws_ec_mdl_dp_B00GYV17AQ

You've got some genuine classics here, like Bing Crosby's "White Christmas," Mel Torme's "The Christmas Song," and Brenda Lee's adorable "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree. You've got some gorgeous crooning from the likes of The Platters, Billie Holiday, and Nat King Cole. You've even got some genuinely fun novelty tunes, like Chuck Berry's "Run Rudolph Run," Dean Martin's "Baby It's Cold Outside" (no, it's not a date-rape song, it's just smarmy), and Eartha Kitt's delightfully purring "Santa Baby" (Julie Newmar was supposed to be sexier than her? Balderdash). 

                                                          (Exhibit A.)

You won't love 'em all, of course, but I'm the last person to judge you for enjoying a song I don't care for. (Unless it's "Mele Kalikimaka." Fuck that song.) You may not dig the big-band style that dominates the collection, or you might balk at the notion of Perry Como showing up on your iPhone. But c'mon - 80 songs for six bucks. You could delete over half of 'em and still walk away feeling like Larry the Liquidator. But before you delete...pause. Let the songs breathe a bit. Sure, some of this music is treacly and filled with cheese, but there's something so pure about holiday music from the 40s and 50s. Even the toss-offs (Sinatra sounds like his mind is on his next martini) have a certain cliched soul feel just right on a chilly night. These are original recordings, and their lo-fi sound is part of their charm. Even those of us with playlists filled of Naked City, Bad Brains and Angelspit can appreciate some good old-fashioned corn when fall really starts to kick in and you realize a hot chocolate would really hit the spot right about now.

So there you go - a little Holiday Music Tip from your Uncle Matthew. Do with it what you will. If you ask me nicely, I might even tell you what my all-time favorite Christmas pop/rock/jazz recordings are. If you ask even more nicely, I might even stop.

This evening's nightly leap into the World Wide Rabbit Hole transported me onto the official site for actress/singer E. G. Daily. And just like that, my first serious adolescent celebrity crush came a-rollin' back. 

I'm pretty sure Valley Girl is the movie that got that ball rolling. Here's a nice collection of snippets from the movie - but really, if you haven't seen it, you should check it out. It's smart, funny, raunchy, and about six times better than it probably should have been. E. G., also known as Elizabeth, is the one with the biggest hair - no small feat for a teen cast in '83.

I mean - come ON. That's just not fair. I was doomed. Before I saw her, I was unaware that I had a "type" - I just liked pretty things. (I realize this post is making me dreadfully shallow. Sorry. I was 12.) But suddenly I knew exactly how I liked 'em: short. Curvy. Un-thin. Big eyes. Irrepressible smile. Slight husk in the voice.  Cute, rather than "pretty." In the pantheon of purely superficial methods for judging the physical aspects of our fellow humans, turns out these are a few of my favorite things. And Ms. Daily had 'em all. 

It didn't hurt, of course, that Valley Girl was rated R, and E. G. bared a good deal of her naughty bits on the screen. But so deep was my crush that I nearly turned away at those parts - it just seemed disrespectful to see my future prom date in such a state. (Nearly.) Besides, she was as wholesome as Donny Osmond baked in a vanilla pie in Pee-wee's Big Adventure, and she was totally my girlfriend in that movie, too. You remember her in that, right? She was Dottie, who had a serious unrequited crush on our titular hero, and what the actual shit, Pee-wee? How are you not saying "screw it, I'll get another bike," whisking her up in your arms (she's very pickupable, which is another plus), taking her to the park and smooching her on the jungle gym before sneaking into the skating rink without paying because Ms. Daily is all about having fun? How are you not holding hands with her during Ladyhawke as you try to position your knuckles on her mini-skirted leg, because it's just "more comfortable that way?" How are you not asking her to slow-dance to Bob Seger's "We Got Tonight" even though you know you'll be spending the next four minutes desperately trying to hide your erection? 

Since then, E. G.'s had her share of "work" done, which is her prerogative, of course, but still a minor disappointment. But I'm delighted to learn that even though the last movie I saw her in was The Devil's Rejects (2005), she's as active as ever, appearing in a bunch of movies and shows and doing a slew of voice-over work, arguably her bread n' butter. She's even got a nice singing career going; her slightly weather-beaten voice is a fine instrument for the pleasant country-pop she favors. And she still has that way of looking right into the lens as if to say "Matt, I've got all these tiresome boys after me and all these actressy things I gotta do, but what do you say we find some bleachers and see if we can get to second base, which is perfect because I'm honestly not quite sure what you're supposed to do on the following bases."

That's what that look is saying to you guys too, right? Um...right?

- . - . - . - . -

This has been the first installment of Matt's Childhood Crushes. Tune in next time as we discuss Diane Franklin, with a special focus on what happened when Matt discovered an odd but vital film entitled Second Time Lucky. Ta.