I spent an enjoyable 90 minutes wearing 3-D glasses and marveling at the stop-action artistry of Coraline’s director and screenwriter, Henry Selick. I particularly liked the titles and end credits, which are as much a part of the story as what takes place from opening narrative to the closing scene.

Anyone who liked Selick’s James and the Giant Peach, The Nightmare Before Christmas, or the kind of storytelling Tim Burton attempted in The Corpse Bride with puppets, will find this satisfying as a technological feat. (I even found a little Le Triplettes de Belleville at work here in two of the characters, though it was not stop-action.) I did not know the original story by Neil Gaiman, and it’s probably just as well. And all you need or want to know is that Coraline tells the story of an 11-year-old girl transplanted by her parents from frozen Michigan to rainy Oregon, and her disposition toward the change is not rosy, especially when a chirpily-verbose lad shows up to befriend her.

Gaiman, once upon a time himself a childhood captive of Lewis’s Narnian universe, can’t help but introduce the bored Coraline to a large and mysterious house that her parents order her to explore. Beyond her bedroom wall she finds an alternate dimension that mirrors her room, her new playmate, and, most eerily, her parents. The only character bridge between the two worlds is a mangy cat, who becomes quite “instrumental” to the plot. That’s all i will say. By the end, Coraline must choose between two sets of circumstances, and moms and dads.

It’s Selick’s visual style that steals the show, though John Hodgman (”Hi, I’m a PC”) and Teri Hatcher (Mrs. Desperate Housewife) do provide strong voice talent for the two sets of parents. Dakota Fanning is ok, too, but may have been too old (already?) to do this voice. The two scariest movies I ever saw as a child were Darby O’Gill and the Little People and Village of the Damned. I believe it was because in both movies children were either threatened with death (”the banshee”)–or the threateners themselves (”don’t look in their eyes. . .”), and neither prospect made for safe dreams.

I mention these movies because I could imagine even an 11-year-old finding both the benevolent and the malevolent universes contained in Coraline’s two houses rather unsettling. Creepy. Worrisome. Sleep-defying. It is said (Tolkien and Lewis both did) that children like to be scared, as long as they know there is a moral center to run to when they feel fear. In some movies, the older ones, anyway, that might be a parent. But it is not so evident in this age, nor in this tale.

Gaiman/Selick’s story has in common with those of Lewis in particular the fact that, as in Narnia, the child protagonists have a kind of freedom from parental supervisors (perhaps even banishment from adulthood) that makes their adventure possible–and worth the risk of a nasty fate. Perhaps the risk is taken just to find out if anyone is out there, and if anyone really cares. Coraline’s parents on this side of the bedroom wall are not evil, just oblivious; the ones on the other side, perhaps too excessively attentive for their–and Coraline’s–own good.

Coraline’s finds out which may be worse. And so chooses. (I do know I will never look at button-eyed dolls the same way again.)

There could hardly be two more opposite experiences than viewing these two movies over two weekends. I have already stated that Slumdog was my movie of the year for 2008. Gran Torino was exhibited in NY and LA in 2008, but I just saw it on January 16, 2009.

The differences between their respective storytelling, temperament, pacing, distribution of theme, treatment of race and culture, and many other components are profound and each helps demarcate the differences as well between American cinema and cinematic tastes and those of Europe, India, and beyond. Both experiences might be enjoyable and worthwhile as events, but the key distinction in the viewer, one who has some sense of the broad genre of film, its boundaries and its ability to transcend them, is that in the experience post-theatre, each generates a distinctive response: one longs for the other to continue and to wonder what happens next to these characters; the other closes the door and in effect tells the participant, “don’t bother to ask,” since you already know.

Since it’s been waaay too long since I’ve contributed, now seems as good a time as any to throw my opinion into the ring… With no further ado, my Ten Best Of:

1. The Book of the Dun Cow, and
2. The Book of Sorrows, by Walter Wangerin, Jr. - beautiful, heartrending, tender, heavenward
3. Home, by Marilynne Robinson - quiet, unsentimental though gentle narrative of choice and redemption
4. Culture Making, by Andy Crouch - thought-provoking treatment of what it means to “make culture” and how to think about doing it in the light of Heaven
5. Autobiography of G.K. Chesterton, by GKC - delightful, full of slippery, revolutionary paradoxes
6. A Severe Mercy, by Sheldon Vanauken - what it means to be made over in the image of Christ (plus a walk-on by C.S. Lewis)
7. Planet Narnia, by Michael Ward - transforms understanding of Lewis’ Narniad, which in turn transforms understanding of the universe, which in turn transforms understanding of the Creator
8. Travels with Charley in Search of America, by John Steinbeck - charmed, in spite of myself; a humorous travelogue about an America I’ll not see
9. Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer’s Life, by Kathleen Norris - wry, thoughtful, insightful, encouraging
10. Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business, by Neil Postman - though written almost 25 years ago, frighteningly spot-on in its observations and understanding of consequences of visual media on our minds and attention spans

Special Mention
Earth-light, Selected Poetry of Gwendolyn MacEwen - earthy, surprising… Poetry.

Hey all you Sleeping Pseudobook Reviewers. Wake up! It’s 2009 and you have not published your “best lists” of any sort. I am going to put my movie top ten here and will provide a one sentence justification and challenge you to do the same. I will state only for the record that I did not make a distinction between in-theatre and video viewings, because if we had to rely on what comes to zip code 43612 or 43402, we’d hardly ever see anything but Judd Apatow knockoffs and the real thing is worse enough. Read mine, argue with mine, post yours.

1. Slumdog Millionaire — honor, truth, loyalty, justice, AND love. Amazing storytelling from a never-disappoints director (Danny Boyle); this same movie made by an American would be Zoolander.

2. Redbelt — honor, truth, loyalty, justice; is there anything else? Well, love; if the ending is abrupt, it’s because actions speak louder than words for Mamet. (This was my #1 until Slumdog came along at the end of 08.)

3. Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day – another period piece that incites you to turn back the clock and dream–of a day when movies could be frivolous with style and no creepy prurience. Just regular prurience.
4. The Fall — powerfully combines imagination with a recognition of the power of desiring to believe (again).
5. Dark Knight — chaos, evil, impotent power, paranoia, sadness.
6. Iron Man — crisp dialogue as much or more fun as the pyrotechnics.
7. Australia — epic vistas and unapologetic movie making for movie’s (& country’s) sake.
8. Indiana Jones — just to see Indy in that diner and hat again.
9. Transsiberian — creepy, scary embodiment of being in too deep with no recourse but lies.
10. Speed Racer — best for the small screen and a better plane ride movie there cannot be: genuine family tears and dazzling technology;

BONUS PICKS

Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog: before this existed, could you have identified its genre or predicted its impact? Joss Whedon’s Musical Comic Book Evil Scientist Adventure Romance. Thing. “I hate the homeless. Ness problem.”

In Bruges — brazenly tender-hearted, heartfully profane, surprising & surprisingly spiritual

I would like to start this review by suggesting that everyone should assiduously avoid watching the original The Day the Earth Stood Still before seeing this movie. I mean you could just be walking around the corner and suddenly discover someone might have the original The Day the Earth Stood Still playing, and there you would be, caught, rather unassiduously glimpsing portions of the movie, despite my admonition.

The fact is, seeing the original The Day the Earth Stood Still will make you wish there had never been a remake of this movie. Or any movie. For the original was intelligent, suspenseful, scary, and provoking, accompanied by fine performances by Gort the Robot and Klaatu the Alien. In the case of this remade movie, there are no fine performances, though the production values are high and one could see a fine movie being made out of its general premises. This one should be called, The Day Gort Stood Still.

Let’s start, though, with the lead that most reviewers will be begin with: Keanu Reeves is “wooden.” Believe me, Keanu is the least of this movie’s problems; in fact, Keanu elevates this role beyond what is truly wooden, the screenplay, and some of the movie’s more intriguing scenes (the interrogation shown in the previews and how he escapes) are entirely due to his playing off his “persona” as a “wooden” actor. That he manages to make these scenes exciting and fun is a tribute to his dedication to the art of underplay. Or it may just be his Method Acting.

No, I will save my most critical commentary for the producers and director of the movie—who had the opportunity to reacquaint us with and pay homage to the original in the way it evoked the hysteria and fear of the era’s selected paranoia: the threat of nuclear destruction. It is not spoiling (much) to say that in this movie the problem is not nuclear weaponry (the U. S. military in almost all s/f movies are remarkably impotent) but mass defoliation and species extinction. Whoa, there are two threats that send chills up my spine. (Do I really want to see any more movies where “I” am the problem that needs to be eradicated? Doesn’t that pose problems for the future of humanity’s box office?) The point is, M. Night actually already did this movie last summer (”The Happening”) and without aliens.

One final word, because this movie doesn’t deserve a lot of analysis. Gort has stayed in my childhood memory to this very day as one of the most mysterious, cunning, frightful (that Cyclops opening in his helmet) and, yet, reassuring images. I would be grateful to have Gort be my guardian and friend. One could say he played Holy Spirit to Klaatu’s Jesus in the original. Yes, my friend Gort can be destructive, but only when Klaatu and the mission are in jeopardy. Seeing how Keanu plays Klaatu and how Gort weathers the fifty years or so since his last appearance are the main reasons for the matinee of this movie. I am sad to say that neither Keanu nor Gort get enough to do to justify the afternoon.

Who wants to see a movie where Kathy Bates gets more screen time than the Greatest Space Robot of All Time? That’s what really makes time stand still.

See Australia for the joy of sheer exuberant filmmaking. See Australia for its audacious and epic earnestness. See Australia for its commitment to story-as-the-thing, both thematically and literally. See Australia if you love film and art direction that forgets we are a blase–indie–rootless postmodern culture that supposedly dislikes cinema with a moral point of view and a you-get-what-you-deserve-ending.

See Australia for its breathtaking vistas and landscape. See Australia for its haunting and mesmerizing soundtrack. See Australia for its unapologetic length. See Australia because American producers and directors won’t make this sort of film anymore and haven’t since David O. Selznick and Cecil B. DeMille died. See Australia if you ever spent time there and want to recover your sense of wonder and amazement at the extremes of God’s creation.

See Australia to enjoy Hugh Jackman’s mindless masculinity.

See Australia to ponder the mysteries of the supernatural and how they can be woven into a movie.

See Australia.