"Pleasantville" (1998, Directed by Gary Ross)

The 1950s are often referred to as an age of success and prosperity. We often look back at the decade through rose-tinted glasses. Sitcoms such as "The Donna Reed Show," "Ozzie and Harriet," and "Leave it to Beaver" paint a dreamy and seemingly "perfect" reality of a happy housewife, the bacon-bringing husband, and their two lovely children. Gary Ross' sensitivity to this “golden age” is what allows "Pleasantville" to effectively shatter the romanticized time while digging into the haunting skeletons that loomed in the dark closet of a generation.

Beginning on an overused and cliché note that immediately starts to tug at feelings of nostalgia and a "simpler time," The main character David (Tobey Maguire, Spiderman) seeks his escape from reality and shows us what can only be classified as an obsession for the baby boomer sitcom of the same name. David knows all the names of each character and every obscure fact about all the episodes. From the jingles to the clothing, David adores the idea of Pleasantville and it’s embodiment of naiveity. Ross makes David’s character the manifestation of society’s commonly found fondness of the decade. This callow love of the fifties is commonly found in pop culture sensations such as “Grease,” “Back to the Future,” and “Cry Baby” among other productions also romanticize the decade.

However, films encompassing the generation, often forget some of the most important and terrible details of the time. "Technicalities" such as McCarthyism, the Korean War, and Brown vs. Board of Education occurred during the 1950s, which seems to be conveniently masked in a layer of camp and corniness.

Ross' film breaks the mold however, and brings in more than the usual trite charm. The clever use of filming techniques and symbolism is what separates "Pleasantville" apart from the rest of these popularized films. Ross hones in on aspects such as racial and gender inequality that was prevalent during the age. After David and his sister, Jennifer are transported into the "Leave it to Beaver"-esque world, a real dose of reality sets in, and Ross lets them uncover the true nature of living in this undemanding and colorless world.

Ross begins the film with a reverse "Oz" setting. His characters are almost biblical-like being banished from a technicolor world and shoved into the black, white, and bland. Run by routine and stereotypical gender roles, the world of "Pleasantville" is unchallenging and never changing. Everyday begins and ends the same way, and any change in their realm can throw off what seems like their entire small existence. So after being tossed into this place, David (now Bud Parker) and Jennifer (Mary Sue Parker) are forced to adhere to Pleasantville's prim moral code and traditional structure. Jennifer doesn't share David's romance and idealization for the period, and causes the initial disruption to the flow of Pleasantville by fooling around with Pleasantville High School's basketball captain, Skip Martin, atop of Lover's Lane.

Unfortunately, Ross paints Jennifer as a stereotypical popular slutty girl, and therefore makes her the scapegoat for the problems now presented in Pleasantville.

Jennifer as a Eve-like character gives Skip a taste of “forbidden fruit”, and because of her actions, color (or what could be considered sin) begins to leak into their world.

Even though Ross paints Jennifer as a morally reckless teen girl he makes up for this previous picture in a later scene. Welcoming sexual freedom, Ross gives this to the other characters as a tool of empowerment, and they begin to slowly change to color, as their palettes and minds expand. David’s T.V. mother, Betty Parker, get the chance to discover her own sexual empowerment. After learning a few tips from her “daughter,” Betty finds herself in the tub. This moment alone is so powerful that the tree outside their house spontaneously erupts in a blaze of fire, similar to when Moses speaks to a burning bush. Ross’ daringness to include viewers in this rare moment of female bliss, is compelling. In a world where media shames sex, and particularly censors the female body, Ross’ boldness does not go unnoticed.

Sex isn't the only thing that is transformative in this film. Ross' savvy style takes on a Beat attitude demanding a desire to experience a culturally rich world and to question outside of Pleasantville.Through newfound art and literature, and the empowerment of asking "What is at the end of Main Street," Ross forces these static characters to dig deeper into themselves and find that they too have dimension.

Ross skillfully implants the idea that Pleasantville isn't so perfect after all. The disruptions in their narrow-minded routines is muddled by the addition of change and color, and their true underlying demeanors (or colors) begin to show. Ross lets the authentic fifties come out and the ugly attitudes towards those who are different speak volumes about the times. The technicolor people are outsiders in their community and are no different than Beats such as Allen Ginsberg or William Burroughs. Some of the technicolors want to hide their true colors, such as Betty, in fear of ostracization from society. This can be associated with Ginsberg’s exile from society and subjection to mental institutions because of his homosexuality.

Suddenly Ross terminates the romance of the period and the black and white citizens versus the technicolor citizens of Pleasantville quickly becomes even more apparent as Ross uncovers the outward discrimination against the people of color. Ross' sharp social commentary on the inequality between, genders, races, and sexual orientation is unparalleled as he manages to concisely embody more than one minority through the group of technicolor people. Repression has run rampant for too long, and stereotypes are beginning to burst at the seams.

Betty begins to evolve and question her role in the "perfect" life laid out before her. Does she have to make dinner? Can she go out? The questioning of her traditional role results in outrage among the community as Betty’s husband is left home alone on night with (gasp) no dinner. Gender inequality was a huge element that was apart of the era, and although Ross touches on this briefly throughout the movie it would have been refreshing to spend more time on this idea. Ross never fully expands on Betty’s dissatisfaction with her place, and even when Ross wraps up, her end is unsatisfying. Today, the homemaker stereotype that Betty is entrapped by still exists in television. Shows such as The Simpsons, Everybody Loves Raymond, and even Modern Family portray the standard housewife.

At this point, Ross will not let us use Pleasantville as an escape now. After being reeled in by the simple and seemingly enchanting world, he uses the charm that of a venus fly trap to ensnare us while commanding our attention to really see the repulsion that has always lurked in this happy-go-lucky sitcom. Each person is beginning to burst out in color, and majorly evolve. From feeling emotion and acquiring knowledge, Ross’ characters are created with depth, except for David. Throughout the film, David does not seem to change much. Aside from one moment, not much about him is different than when the film started. This normally wouldn’t be bad, except that this film really stresses the importance of making life changing choices and decisions.

Ross’ “Pleasantville” is more than just another movie about the post-war age. Ross defines a generation and demands us to reevaluate “the good old days.” Although, television was black and white, the world we’ve always lived has never been that simple and clear-cut. Even though Ross does not always succeed in following through on some good ideas, he does manage to drive home a crucial points. No matter how complicated the world today may seem, we can remember the freedoms that we’ve gained and the steps taken to move forward.

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“Wish I Was Here” (Directed by Zach Braff, 2014) “Why I Walked Out Halfway Through the New Zach Braff Movie” and “Okay, I Watched All of ‘Wish I Was Here.’ And It Was Not Good.” by Lucy Vernasco (Bitch Media, 2014)

To write a successful piece of criticism a critic should utilize insight, evidence, and context to effectively convey their opinions. Lucy Vernasco’s article about Zach Braff’s recent summer flick “Wish I Was Here” clearly demonstrates the three elements. In addition to displaying these elements, she also makes a larger statement about the frustration between generations and an overarching sense of selfishness reflected in the main characters and current society.

Vernasco begins her essay on a personal note, while shedding some light on Braff’s previous directorial debut in the indie classic “Garden State.” The bar is set high for “Wish I Was Here,” because of her admiration for his previous film. She also gives context on how Braff’s recent pic came to fruition, stating that “Braff decided to crowdfund ‘Wish I Was Here’, raising over $3 million from individuals.” Unfortunately, Vernasco claims that the film falls flat and is lackluster. She also states the interesting use of Kickstarter, wondering why Braff didn’t fund the project himself.

Vernasco gives some description of the plot of the film, to set the story for the readers. (The Tl;dr: a 30 something year old struggles to find his identity while schooling his super quirky and stereotypical kids cue The Shins.)

“If individuals are collectively funding a film that hopes to be inspiring, the end result should be as dynamic and diverse as the people who pony up to support it. Instead, the film feels absurdly self-centered.” Vernasco writes. She backs up her claim by referencing a scene where Braff’s character Aiden learns that his father’s life been limited by cancer. All Braff can muster is the rudely inappropriate question of whether or not his ailing father can still afford his two children’s pricy private schooling. Vernasco also mentions that Aiden is a out of work actor who seems to mock his wife’s (played by Kate Hudson) own struggles with her career. Vernasco reiterates how Aiden is seemingly wrapped up in his own life, and the “search for his identity.”

Vernasco repeatedly mentions how the whole film has an these overtones of selfishness. From how the film was funded to the way Braff’s characters were written, Vernasco has a beef with “Wish I Was Here.” She is actually so outraged with the mundaneness, cliche characters, and selfish plotline that she actually gets up and leaves partway through the film.

Being convinced by some Braff loving fans, Vernasco goes back to the theatre to complete what seems like torture for her. After going in the first round with high hopes, Vernasco lowers her expectations for round two. She feels that the second half of the movie does not have any qualities that redeem itself from the earlier portion of the film, stating that the main characters are too static, and have nothing meaningful to say. She wonders to herself if these are characters we can find in the real world, and decides that it is really this “hipster wisdom” that makes audiences eat this type of film up.

A dreamy hipster soundtrack and some starry eyed “quirky” characters can fool plenty of people into loving Braff’s “Wish I Was Here,” but Vernasco begs to differ. With a self-centered production and uninspiring writing, Vernasco feels the feature misses the mark. Successfully utilizing insight, evidence, and context she is able to clearly convey her distaste for the film, while communicating a larger idea behind the morals and motives of the pic.

“Kings of Pastry” (Directed by Chris Hegedus and D.A. Pennebaker, 2010)

Winning the collar to being named a Meilleur Ouvrier de France (France’s finest craftsman) is both a  dream and an obsession. “Kings of Pastry” tells the stories of passionate pastry chefs competing to be named as one of France’s top artisans. Hegedus and Pennebaker create a mouthwatering film that engages all of the senses, redefining what it means to be an artist.

After 70 contestants had been whittled down, sixteen remain in the race to being named a Meilleur Ouvrier de France (MOF). The film focuses on three dedicated and skilled chefs: Jacquy Pfeiffer, Regis Lazard , and Philippe Rigollot.  More than one person can earn the title of MOF, but the judges (who are MOFs themselves) must find contestants who uphold the values of the craft during three intense days of a nerve wracking competition. “It’s like the olympics, you have to be good on that day,” says Jacquy Pfeiffer. The contestants compete in three categories: presentation, cakes and pastries, and creating an intricate sugar sculpture.

Watching the intensity and immense dedication for the preparation for this competition is both inspiring and unsettling. Some of these chefs have built their entire lives and homes around this exam. Many of the chefs own their own patisseries, and when their work day is done, they go home and continue to create pastries to practice for the MOF.

Working with only edible materials, these chefs create dazzling and delectable works of art, that would rival the beauty of even a sculpture made by Rodin. “Kings of Pastry” shows that the chef’s dedication to their craft mirrors that of any other artist, and that they deserve the respect as well.

It’s difficult not to feel for these chefs. Watching Jacquy fervently readjust recipes before the competition is tense, and makes us want to scream out  watching him toss out an entire cake in frustration.

The latter part of the film focuses on the competition itself. The chefs are tested not only in their ability to make tasty treats, but to focus on their amount of waste and tidiness under a tight time constraint. Watching them contend in this exam is something way more important than anything you’d see on the food network. These people aren’t your Rachel Rays and Bobby Flays. This is the highest honor you can earn as a pastry chef in France. People who wear the collar of a MOF who have not earned the title can even be arrested.

“Kings of Pastry” is convincing and shows that these men are truly artists in their own right. The chefs are no different than any other artists. Their medium just happens to be sugar, flour and frosting. Hegedus and Pennebaker show us architects and scientists as well as artists. In this film we are reminded how important it to stop and appreciate the finer things in life. Why shouldn’t what we eat make us just as speechless as a painting by Monet or be as finely crafted as an award winning film by Coppola?

Reminding us of the emotion and patience that goes into any work of art, “Kings of Pastry” is more than just a film about goodies and cakes. This is a film about the fire that resides in all artists and the lengths that a person will go to to achieve their dreams. “Kings of Pastry” also successfully shows that making pastries doesn’t make you a cream puff. These chef’s have the backbone to make jaw dropping sculptures and try daring ideas, even if it may spell disaster.