This is a dark summer for geek girls. Though superhero and comic book-based films are all the rage these days, it's male crime-fighters who get all the attention: there are no films starring female superheroes on the horizon.
But when Linklater finally dishes up that picture perfect conclusion in his new follow-up film Before Midnight, the result a refreshing counter-point to Hollywood's typical happily ever after stories. Instead, America's ultimate romance dives into the realistic, practical tensions of middle age and marriage.
The premise is deceptively simple: A group of girlfriends reunite on a Maine camping trip for the first time in years. They come across three military men, long-ago acquaintances from school, and the groups merge for a lakeshore party. Alcohol is imbibed, and one of the girls heads off to the woods with one of the men.
"The world opens its arms to a pretty girl," says the father of the lazy beautiful Cloey, the main character of dreamy new film City Baby. It's true—the world does offer plenty of opportunities to Cloey (played by Cora Benesh, who co-wrote the film with director David Morgan) but the sometimes-model rolls her eyes at all of them, preferring to drink PBR down by the river and feel sorry for herself.
City Baby is a loving portrait of an obnoxious culture.
Star Trek: Into Darkness came out this weekend, and like any good Trekkie, I was eager to see the film. And although I came away from doing so feeling satisfied, there was one thing that stuck in my craw.
A couple of years ago I saw ex-Bikini Kill singer Kathleen Hanna speak in New York City, right before she donated her musical archives to New York University's Fales Library. I was struck by her acerbic wit, her 'I don't give a fuck' attitude.
While I was a teenager during the grunge and Riot Grrrl era, for some reason I was (at the time) more drawn to hyper-masculine, testosterone-saturated grunge and metal bands and was not that interested in what was happening on the other side of the scene. As Hanna's talk was intriguing, I took the opportunity to check out The Punk Singer, part of the Hot Docs Festival in Toronto.
About 10 minutes into the documentary, I knew that I had made a colossal mistake.