Medicine for Melancholy : May - June Theme
“If we're kind and polite the world will be right.”
Right about now we could all use a little pick me up. Staring down at the problems in front of us and looking out into the future ahead, it’s hard to stay optimistic, but if there’s anything we’ve come to know about cinema is that it has the unique ability to transplant us elsewhere. If only momentarily, we can watch a film and not feel so alone in the world, not feel so distressed by our current situation, and feel hopeful for brighter days. When our own reality is too much, it’s comforting to know that cinema can provide MEDICINE FOR MELANCHOLY.
Our May and June theme is focused on films that can change the mood for the better, films that to their core inspire unrelenting joy, happiness, and elation like no other. When you’re watching one of these films, each passing moment steadily changes your mindset, and by the time it’s over, you’re left feeling a little better off. It could be a film about a bear sparing no expense at offering unconditional empathy, a witch struggling to find her way in the world only to finally succeed, or a dysfunctional family that supports one another no matter the circumstance. These are films that warm our hearts, make us smile, lift us up, and make us want to be a better people, and in these depressing times, they’re needed more than ever.
Paddington 2
(Paul King, 2018)
“He looks for the good in all of us and somehow, he finds it.”
Once upon a time, an earthquake in South America divided a family forever, killing a grandfather and separating the only two surviving members from one another. Their home ruined from the incident, leaving behind nothing to rebuild and forcing the young grandson to travel to a new city in a foreign country thousands of miles away in the hopes of finding new opportunities. As the grandmother was too old to make the trip herself, he went alone with nothing but a red explorer’s hat and a suit case full of marmalade, looking for a new place to call home and perhaps a new family to share it with…
It’s not a Skywalker nor a Na'vi nor even an Avenger that stands atop my comfort viewing list. It isn't a film associated with a Scorsese, Tarantino, Spielberg nor Anderson either, and it’s a rather unsuspecting film at first glance. But, my biggest honor goes to the humblest individual from the darkest of Peru: Paddington Bear.
For the unfamiliar, Paddington's origin story (see above) and debut animated feature in 2014 introduced us to an immigrant's, and technically refugee’s, perspective on assimilating into present-day London. Dealing with the stigmas, stereotypes, and logistical hurdles with his trademark infinite empathy and a well-mannered quips, the over 60-year-old literary character found a new life Paul King’s adaptation, and when time came for a sequel, the bar was already set high. Fortunately, the bear in the blue duffle coat did not disappoint.
Now, I know what this looks like on paper, and I want to clarify. I am recommending a film series partially about the trials of immigration as a comfort film — you are correct about that — but specifically, I am recommending the sequel, Paddington 2, which places takes aim at mass incarceration. If you are not currently buying what I am selling, humor me while I explain.
The magic Paddington, but really co-writer/director Paul King, employs is that no matter what situation he’s in, he treats everyone as equals. Let me repeat that. A mammal, who still uses toothbrushes for q-tips, knows that anything less than full empathy for one another is a failure. For this immigrant bear, empathy is the bedrock of community. We all make up communities and all we have in this world are those within those circles. With this shared mentality, the film is able to move moment to moment filled with the multi-faceted wonder, wisdom, and joy of community. Community, not Paddington, rips through a hardened criminal to his whimsical core in the movie. Through the bumbling antics and marmalade-fueled escapades, the only individual not from this community has brought it closer together than it has ever been. Right now, quarantined in my home, my personal community feels closer at the end credits of this bear's shenanigans than before it began. It's inexplicable in some ways but knowing which stories have that power over you is valuable. For fans of the film and the character, like myself who find warmth in this feeling, the Brown Family's call to action in Paddington's own origin story is also an appeal to our own, making us all feel the collective urge to "please look after this bear."
-Kevin Conner
Magic Mike XXL
(Gregory Jacobs, 2015)
“Let’s find out if there’s still some magic left in that Mike…”
I first saw Magic Mike XXL at The Beacon Cinema’s grand opening in the summer of 2019. Fifty people filled out a single room theater where the air conditioning had yet to be installed and the hot summer air was already taking its toll on the space. As uncomfortable as it was, it didn’t matter. The film we were about to watch was as hot if not hotter than the room itself. People cheering wildly at Channing Tatum grinding a work bench. People swooning over Big Dick Richie’s words of wisdom. People collectively experiencing something truly remarkable: an unequivocal celebratory exhibition of friendship, positivity, and sexuality by way of male strippers.
Magic Mike XXL is Gregory Jacob’s follow up to Steven Soderbergh’s 2012 original, and the two couldn’t be more thematically and tonally divergent. Gone is the plot driven, conflict laden narrative that characterized the first film, and in is a focus on the men themselves — their aspirations, their interpersonal relationships, and their love for the dance — while firmly rejecting any and all negativity. XXL sees the titular Mike coming out of stripping retirement to reunite with Ken, Richie, Tarzan, Tito, and Tobias for a road trip to the national strippers convention in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina where they’ll put on one last show as ‘The Kings of Tampa.’ A simple premise that remains simple, and in doing so, the film explores the spaces formed between each individual, their profession, and the people they meet along the way.
A broken heart, a failing business, a struggling career, the desire to find a soulmate, XXL imbues each member with their own dimension of empathy that bridges the estranged life of strippers to that of our own. The conflict remains offscreen, but even with their problems lingering over them, everyone is committed to unconditional positivity, a resilience to have a good time with what little time they have together, and within the confines of this film no negativity is allowed, no friend left in a bad mood, and no call for support left unanswered. It’s 100% positivity, all the time.
To perceive the film as a parade of well sculpted men is one thing, but there’s so much more to it than that. There is no social shame in stripping here, just a joyous portrayal of unfettered expression where Mike and the crew can exude their sexuality without judgement being passed by those around them, the filmmakers, or the audience. Across diverse genders, races, and sexual orientations, XXL promotes positive images of masculinity and femininity through the acceptance of one’s self and each other, each dance a new perspective, each song a new rhythm, and each character their own person.
And for a movie about male strippers, the dance choreography is rightfully marvelous. Strips contain enough energy and sex appeal to make you break a sweat, tempered with enough visual sophistication to constantly draw the eye. It’s sexy, not lurid, maintaining a constant sense of sensual fun because the performance isn’t predicated on monetary exchange like the first film presents it, but rather an exertion over one’s sexuality, a desire to please and be pleased, and to perform as an act of self expression.
XXL is best served in communal viewership with people as loud as the characters on screen, but even without it, you can still be transplanted to a state of sensational positivity. When Ken, Richie, Tarzan, Tito and Mike pull off their last performance, ‘The Kings of Tampa’ run a victory lap on the Carolina coast set to the infallible ‘All I Do Is Win.’ Their journey is over, as too the film, and while Mike and the crew return to the problems they escaped for one weekend, for one film, we know two things: they’ll never forget the time they just had, and that there’s still plenty of magic left in that Mike.
-Greg Arietta
WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS
(Taika waititi & jemaine clement, 2014)
“I'm doing an erotic dance for my friends. You ruined it. I was in the zone. My friends were loving it.”
The cheeky mockumentary that introduced Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement to a broad international audience, What We Do in the Shadows, follows the nightly un-lives of four vampire housemates in Wellington, New Zealand. Viago (Waititi) was, in life, an 18th Century dandy— the most fastidious, still pining for an old mortal love. Vladislav (Clement) was once known as “Vlad the Poker,” and remains the foe of evil entity The Beats. Deacon (Jonathan Brugh) is the youngest and self-acclaimed coolest of the group, having been a Nazi vampire until that went out of fashion. And finally there is Petyr (Ben Fransham), who at eight thousand years old doesn’t quite have it all together. The film explores their dynamic, their exposure to modern technology through their human friend Stu, newly turned vampire cool guy Nick, a rival band of werewolves, and the events leading up to the year’s biggest gathering of supernatural beings in Wellington, The Unholy Masquerade.
The film’s improvised comedy vignettes all stand on their own, but together form a larger story to fulfill each individual character’s arc. The trivial nature of arguments over chore responsibilities and choosing outfits for a night out are elevated by a brilliant supporting cast of characters. Each Kiwi comedian produces their own handful of quotable lines. And for bloodthirsty creatures of the night, their human hearts shine through in their search for love and companionship. For them, eternity is an endless party to spend together.
Waititi and Clement pull from the massive history of vampiric lore and media to craft a genuinely unique film, citing and parodying every tone and style from The Lost Boys to Bram Stoker’s Dracula to Nosferatu, and yes, even Twilight. Like comedy comfort food, What We Do In the Shadows is by a wide margin my most watched film of all time, probably the film I most often recommend to others for a good time. Its many cultural points of reference and Waititi and Clement’s recent notoriety make it highly accessible. It’s so wall to wall with humor that I’ll never tire of it, and am constantly finding new charm in different elements.
-Megan Bernovich
Kiki’s Delivery Service
(Hayao Miyazaki, 1989)
“We each need to find our own inspiration, Kiki. Sometimes it's not easy.”
This Studio Ghibli classic is possibly the most comforting of Miyazaki’s oeuvre. Setting aside the mysterious forces of evil and fantastical creatures you normally associate with Ghibli favourites such as Spirited Away (2001) and Princess Mononoke (1997), Kiki’s Delivery Service is quite simply a heart-warming coming-of-age tale about a young witch and her pet cat, Jiji, that is sure to provide some much needed relief during present times.
As Kiki leaves her parents to live alone for a year, a customary tradition for witches of her age, we follow her on an adventure of self-discovery and friendship as she learns how to be independent whilst overcoming her outsider-status in a new town. Kiki’s Delivery Service is certainly not devoid of obstacles for the young witch to deal with, and yet even moments of narrative conflict have a profoundly soothing effect. I would go as far to say that watching Kiki and Jiji take broom rides over beautifully rendered landscapes should be a prescribed form of relaxation — even if Kiki has the occasional flying mishap. What keeps me coming back to this film in moments of sadness is the joy I find in the bond between Kiki and Jigji, which is both delightfully funny and emotionally sincere; the way in which their relationship develops over the course of the film fills me with a sense of warmth and never fails to lift my spirits.
If you’re new to Ghibli films in general, Kiki’s Delivery Service is definitely one of the best, and in times like these, I think that it provides the perfect dose of animated escapism when the world around us is too overwhelming.
-Ivy Pottinger-Glass
The Young Girls of Rochefort
(Jacques Demy, 1967)
“The town’s crawling with soldiers, sadists, and unknown painters!”
Set over a weekend of festivities in the eponymous seaside town, Jacques Demy’s mesmerizing musical The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967) centres on a pair of twins: Delphine (Catherine Deneuve) who teaches ballet, and Solange (Deneuve’s real-life sister Francoise Dorléac) who is an aspiring composer. Both want more than the provincial town has to offer, and dream of finding their romantics ideal in Paris. Meanwhile their mother, Yvonne (Danielle Darrieux), still regrets leaving the love of her life Simon Dame (Michel Piccoli) who, unbeknownst to her, runs a nearby music shop. Also passing through Rochefort are two smooth-talking carnies (George Chakiris and Grover Dale), a hopelessly romantic sailor (Jacques Perrin), and a charming foreign musician played by none other than Gene Kelly.
What follows is a delightful tale of coincidence and fate, of missed connections and what-ifs, and ultimately of the realization that true love might be just around the corner. There are so many things to adore about Demy’s exuberant tribute to the classic Hollywood musical: the pun-filled song lyrics, the ostentatious costume design, Michel Legrand’s sublime jazzy score. But what makes this my ultimate feel-good film is Demy’s approach to the musical form itself. The plot doesn’t pause for the occasional musical number – rather, the candy-colored Rochefort in its entirety seems constantly desperate to burst into song. This is a world in which the most mundane journey down the street can transform into joyous dance, or in which a dinner-table conversation can inexplicably be conducted entirely in rhyme. And why not? Demy doesn’t shy away from the depicting the real world as a place of heartache and disappointment, and so this is the musical as escape – both for the characters and for us. The result is movie magic in its purest form.
-Theo Rollason
A New Leaf
(Elaine May, 1971)
“Have you ever tasted Mogen-David extra-heavy malaga wine with soda water and lime juice?”
Seriously, have you? To Henrietta Lowell (Elaine May) there is no better drink, and that makes it Henry Graham's (Walter Matthau) newfound favorite. You see, Henry is a single, rich man whose money has run out. With little bankable skills of his own, he schemes to wed a wealthy spouse as a quick fix, and after stumbling upon the equally rich and equally single Henrietta, he believes he’s found his target. His plan, however, has one simple addition— murdering Henrietta so her can keep her money.
With so dour a conceit, A New Leaf is a precarious proposition for a comedy. I visualize Elaine May writing the script by inching her way across a tightrope over a pit of poor-taste and dated jokes that could have leveled the picture. Thankfully, it is hard to overstate how effortlessly May balances everything. May’s film manages to dance at the vertex of so many identities that A New Leaf seems to frequently round corners into unexpected but pleasant turns. She dips her toes in a 1930s screwball before side-stepping to a marital farce and leaping into an echo of a character study. Eventually the film decides on all three at once, a delightful encapsulation of the chaotic energy undergirding the picture. So let A New Leaf disarm you with its uniquely blend of idiosyncrasies while you sip on the best that alcohol, carbonated water, and citrus can offer: a Mogen-David extra-heavy malaga wine with soda water and lime juice!
-Kevin Conner
What’s Up Doc?
(Peter Bogdanovich, 1972)
“I do not like to act rashly, but you are the last straw that breaks my camel’s back, you are the plague, you bring havoc and chaos to everyone, but why to me? Why me? Why??”
Sometimes, we could all do with a big dose of silliness. Peter Bogdanovich's adoring — and yes, very silly — tribute to the screwball comedies of Hollywood-past involves the mixing up of four identical plaid suitcases. One contains top secret documents. Another filled with expensive jewelry. A third houses igneous rocks belonging to mild-mannered musicologist Howard Bannister (Ryan O’Neal) who is attending the Congress of American Musicologists Convention with his overbearing fiancé Eunice Burns (Madeline Kahn). And the final suitcase holds the precious few belongings of Judy Maxwell (Barbra Streisand), an eccentric young woman who decides she will do whatever she can to insinuate herself into Howards life. The ensuing plot is riotously convoluted and contrived — though it doesn’t matter all that much anyway — that sets the perfect backdrop for Bogdanovich to get into all sorts of mischief.
What’s Up, Doc? is stupid to its core, mashing together the relentlessly fast-paced wordplay of the screwball subgenre with a slapstick sensibility à la Blake Edwards. The film’s climax is a ten-minute-long car chase across the San Francisco slopes that puts The Blues Brothers to shame; it’s the kind of hilarious frenetic chaos that, paradoxically, could only be pulled off by a filmmaker in total control. Holding the madness together is Streisand, effortlessly funny and charming, channeling both Katherine Hepburn and Bugs Bunny. Though it’s played for laughs, Judy’s attempt to seduce Howard with a rendition of “As Time Goes By” has to be one of the sweetest moments ever committed to celluloid. And it’s precisely that mix of irreverent silliness with a heartfelt sweetness that makes What’s Up, Doc? a comedy classic.
-Theo Rollason
Stardust
(Matthew Vaughn, 2007)
“My heart, it feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it doesn't belong to me anymore. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I'd wish for nothing in exchange.”
Plodding through whatever nightmare the roulette wheel of 2020 has landed on for the day, I am comforted in knowing I always have two hour’s worth of dopamine on DVD. Adapted from Neil Gaiman’s novel and borrowing in tone from The Princess Bride, Stardust will always be the pure, warm, fantasy escapism that lifts me up and makes me feel impervious to the anxieties of reality.
A stacked cast of Charlie Cox, Claire Danes, Robert De Niro (in one of the best roles of his career), Michelle Pfeiffer (simply devouring scenery at every opportunity), Henry Cavill, Mark Strong, Peter O’Toole, Ricky Gervais, and the storybook narration of Sir Ian McKellen all amount to a feeling of familiarity and comfort. The film itself follows Tristan (Cox), a shop boy whose journey to win the heart of his love with the gift of a fallen star is unexpectedly diverted when he discovers the star is not a rock from the heavens but a living woman, Yvaine (Danes). At odds, the two both then seek to return to their homes— with storylines of questing princes, an archetypal trio of cruel witches, and heart-of-gold sky pirates all gleefully interwoven. The film deals in classic fantasy tropes while introducing to the genre its own brand of fresh and funny ingenuity. It charmed me when I was 11 years old, and to this day I credit its world building as a creative inspiration upon which I design my own home-brewed Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, even occasionally pulling Ilan Eshkeri’s knockout score for my games.
Not one for vanilla romantic films, Stardust is the adventure that keeps me coming back. Its swashbuckling and magic are an ideal of romance, as our heroes waltz on the deck of an airship and traverse Tolkien-esque landscapes with orchestras swelling in the background. True love comes after sincere personal growth; Tristan needs to learn the meaning of chivalry, and that even the most wondrous gifts or gestures cannot buy affection. Yvaine literally glows when she experiences joy, and I feel like I could almost do the same from the minute the film begins all the way up to its happily ever after.
-Megan Bernovich
Little Miss Sunshine
(Valerie Faris & Jonathan Dayton, 2006)
“A real loser is someone who's so afraid of not winning he doesn't even try.”
For a film in which every character is faced with their own worst nightmares, Little Miss Sunshine (2006) is perhaps the most feel-good family drama out there in my eyes. Having first watched this film on its release as a fairly young child, some of the more subtle elements of the film’s comedy went over my head on first viewing, but now I repeatedly come back to this family favourite of mine whenever I need a pick-me-up.
Maybe it’s just me, but I find comedies that run through the course of tragedies most affecting, and ultimately most endearing. Michael Arndt’s story of a dysfunctional family on one unforgettable road trip certainly has it all: a failing motivational speaker father, a burnt-out mother gearing up for divorce, a drug addict grandfather, a suicidal uncle fighting a losing fight to be the number one Proust scholar in the US, a teenage son in the midst of a vow of silence who’s obsessed with Nietzsche and desperate to be left alone, and a pre-adolescent daughter who just wants to be America’s next top pageant queen. A beat-up VW Camper becomes the crucible for this family’s conflicts as they travel across state lines from New Mexico to the Little Miss Sunshine pageant in California. Of course, things don’t go to plan and they almost don’t make it but, in the end, the family come out closer than ever.
There’s something about this film–which at its core is a heartbreakingly sad depiction of working-class Americans failing to achieve the American Dream–that completely fills me with a feeling of bitter-sweet happiness and a real sense of comfort. I think that sometimes having a good cry can really lift your mood, and Little Miss Sunshine certainly provides ample opportunities to both laugh and sob, not to mention it has one of the best ensemble casts of all time (Alan Arkin, Toni Collette, Paul Dano, Steve Carell, Greg Kinnear, Abigail Breslin). I mean, come on, Toni Collette should win the award for best dysfunctional mother in cinema of all time (see The Sixth Sense (1999), About A Boy (2002), Hereditary (2018), Knives Out (2019)…need I go on)!
-Ivy Pottinger-Glasss