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  • ‘Clueless,’ ‘The Karate Kid,’ ‘Glory,’ ‘The Big Chill,’ ‘High Society,’ ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ Enter the National Film Registry

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    High Society, The Big Chill, The Karate Kid, Glory, Philadelphia, Clueless, The Incredibles, The Grand Budapest Hotel and the first mainstream documentary from Ken Burns have been inducted into the National Film Registry, it was announced Thursday.

    The Thing — the top title nominated by the public last year — White Christmas, Before Sunrise, The Truman Show, Frida, The Hours and Inception also are among the 25 “culturally, historically or aesthetically” significant works selected for preservation by the Library of Congress.

    Six silent films from 1896 to 1926 are in the class of 2025, as are four documentaries: George Nierenberg’s Say Amen, Somebody; Burns’ Brooklyn Bridge; Danny Tedesco’s The Wrecking Crew; and Nancy Buirski’s The Loving Story.

    There are now 925 films in the registry (selections began in 1989, and a film must be at least 10 years old to be eligible). The six-week government shutdown delayed the 2025 announcement by about a month.

    “When we preserve films, we preserve American culture for generations to come. These selections for the National Film Registry show us that films are instrumental in capturing important parts of our nation’s story,” acting Librarian of Congress Robert R. Newlen said in a statement. “We are proud to continue this important work … as a collective effort in the film community to protect our cinematic heritage.”

    TCM will screen a few of the inductees starting at 5 p.m. PST on March 19, with TCM host Jacqueline Stewart, chair of the National Film Preservation Board, introducing the films.

    Also considered were 7,559 titles nominated by the public. Nominations for 2026 will be accepted through Aug. 15 here.

    In an interview with the Library of Congress, Burns said that “with the exception of The American Revolution, which is a subject that predates photography, we’ve used the Library of Congress in every single film we’ve worked on. [For Brooklyn Bridge], I spent between eight and nine weeks, Monday through Friday, 8:30 to 4:30 in the paper print collection, filming on an easel with gloves and magnets.

    “When I think about the National Film Registry and all the films that are contained in it, I think of it as a giant mirror of the United States, reflecting back all of the complexity, all of the intimacy, all of the variety of the people and ideas and forces and movements that have taken place over our history. And you realize what an extraordinary repository it is.”

    Wes Anderson said he also took advantage of the LOC to create The Grand Budapest Hotel.

    “There’s a specific set of postcards in the Library of Congress Photochrome Prints collection. They’re photographs from the turn of the century and hand-tinted,” he said. “When we were first starting to figure out how to tell this story, the views and images that we were looking for, the architecture and the landscapes that we wanted, they don’t exist anymore.

    “We went through the entire Photochrome collection, which is a lot of images. We made our own versions of things, but much of what is in our film comes directly from that collection from the Library of Congress.”

    Here are the 2025 inductees in alphabetical order, with descriptions supplied by the Library of Congress:

    Before Sunrise (1995)
    Richard Linklater has explored a wide range of narrative storytelling styles while consistently capturing ordinary, everyday American life. However, his innovative use of time as a defining and recurring cinematic tool has become one of his most significant accomplishments. As the first film in his Before trilogy — each film shot nine years apart — Before Sunrise unfolds as one of cinema’s most sustained explorations of love and the passage of time, highlighting the human experience through chance encounters and conversation. With his critically acclaimed 12-year production of Boyhood (2014) and a new 20-year planned production underway, his unique use of the medium of film to demonstrate time passing demonstrates an unprecedented investment in actors and narrative storytelling.

    Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke in 1995’s ‘Before Sunrise.’

    Columbia/Courtesy Everett Collection

    The Big Chill (1983)
    Lawrence Kasdan’s Oscar best picture nominee offers an intimate portrait of friends reunited after the suicide of one of their own and features actors who defined cinema in the 1980s — Glenn Close, William Hurt, JoBeth Williams, Kevin Kline, Jeff Goldblum and Meg Tilly. This powerful ensemble portrays American stereotypes of the time — the yuppie, the drug dealer, the TV star — and deftly humanizes them. Through humor, tenderness, honesty and an amazing soundtrack, it shows formerly idealistic Americans making and dealing with the constant compromises of adulthood while buoying one another with uncompromising love and friendship.

    From left: Glenn Close, Kevin Kline, Meg Tilly, William Hurt, Tom Berenger, Mary Kay Place, Jeff Goldblum and JoBeth Williams in 1983’s ‘The Big Chill.’

    Courtesy Everett Collection

    Brooklyn Bridge (1981)
    Here Burns introduced himself to the American public, telling the story of the New York landmark’s construction. As with later subjects like the Civil War, jazz and baseball, Burns connects the building of the Brooklyn Bridge to American identity, values and aspirations. Released theatrically and nominated for an Academy Award for best documentary feature, this marked the beginning of Burns’ influential career in public media. More than just a filmmaker, he has become a trusted public historian. His storytelling presents facts, but maybe more importantly, invites reflection on what America is, where it’s been and where it’s going. His influence is felt not only in classrooms and through public broadcasting, but across generations who see history as something alive and relevant.

    Clueless (1995)
    A satire, comedy and loose Jane Austen literary adaptation dressed in teen-movie designer clothing, Clueless, written and directed by Amy Heckerling, rewards the casual and the hyper-analytical viewer as well. It’s impossible to miss its peak-1990s colorful, high-energy, soundtrack-focused onscreen dynamism, and repeated viewings reveal its unpretentiously presented, extraordinarily layered and biting social commentary about class, privilege and power structures. Heckerling and the incredible cast never talk down to the audience, creating main characters that viewers root for, despite the obvious digs at the ultra-rich. The film centers on Cher (Alicia Silverstone) as a well-intentioned, fashion-obsessed high school student who is convinced she has life figured out. In the age of MTV, the film’s popularity launched Paul Rudd’s career and Silverstone’s iconic-’90s status. The soundtrack, curated by Karyn Rachtman, helped solidify the film as a time capsule of clothing, music, dialogue and teenage life.

    “I’m often asked, how did I decide to make [Austen’s 1816 novel] Emma into an updated film, which is kind of backward because what I wanted was to write the kind of characters that really amused me, people that were very comfortable, ardent and optimistic,” Heckerling told the Library of Congress. “I would get up, read the news and then just want to cry and be depressed.

    “So, I thought, what if you really were always positive? How would that be? And what if you were doing things and you just knew that you were right? I remembered reading Emma when I was in college, so I reread it. It was like Jane Austen was pulling up from the grave and saying, ‘I already got it!’”

    Frida (2002)
    Salma Hayek produced and stars in this biopic of Frida Kahlo, adapted from the book Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo by Hayden Herrera. The film explores Kahlo’s rise as an artist in Mexico City and the impact disability and chronic pain from an accident as a young adult had on her life and work. The film centers on her tumultuous and passionate relationships, most significantly with her husband, painter Diego Rivera (Alfred Molina). Directed by Julie Taymor, it was nominated for six Oscars, including best actress, winning for makeup and original score.

    Salma Hayek in 2002’s ‘Frida.’

    Miramax/Courtesy Everett Collection

    Glory (1989)
    Described by Leonard Maltin as “one of the finest historical dramas ever made,” Glory portrays a historical account of the 54th Regiment, a unit of African American soldiers who fought for the North during the Civil War. Authorized by the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863, the regiment consisted of an all-Black troop commanded by white officers. Matthew Broderick plays the young colonel who trains the troop, and Denzel Washington (in an Oscar-winning turn) is among an impressive cast that includes Morgan Freeman, Cary Elwes and Andre Braugher. American Civil War historian James M. McPherson said the Edward Zwick-directed film “accomplishes a remarkable feat in sensitizing a lot of today’s Black students to the role that their ancestors played in the Civil War in winning their own freedom.”

    Morgan Freeman (left) and Denzel Washington in 1989’s ‘Glory.’

    TriStar Pictures/Courtesy Everett Collection

    The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)
    This stands as one of Anderson’s most successful films and demonstrates his brand of unique craftsmanship, resulting in a visually striking and emotionally resonant story. As one of the most stylistically distinctive American filmmakers of the past half-century, he uses historically accurate color and architecture to paint scenes to elicit nostalgia and longing from audiences, while at the same time weaving in political and social upheaval. This is an example of Anderson as a unique artist who uses whimsy, melancholy, innovative storytelling and a great deal of historical research, all on display in this visually rich gem.

    From left: Paul Schlase, Tony Revolori, Tilda Swinton and Ralph Fiennes in 2014’s ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel.’

    Martin Scali/Fox Searchlight Pictures/Courtesy Everett Collection

    High Society (1956)
    Often referred to as the last great musical of the Golden Age of Hollywood, this features an all-star cast including Bing Crosby, Grace Kelly, Frank Sinatra and Louis Armstrong (and his band), along with a memorable score of Cole Porter classics. Set in Newport, Rhode Island, it showcases the Newport Jazz Festival (established in 1954) and includes a remarkable version of Porter’s “Now You Has Jazz.” It offers the first big-screen duet by Sinatra and Crosby, singing “Well, Did You Evah?” This was Kelly’s last movie before she retired from acting and married the Prince of Monaco; she wore her Cartier engagement ring during filming.

    From left: Bing Crosby, Grace Kelly and Frank Sinatra from 1956’s ‘High Society.’

    Courtesy Everett Collection

    The Hours (2002)
    Stephen Daldry weaves the novel Mrs. Dalloway into three women’s stories of loneliness, depression and suicide. Virginia Woolf, played by Nicole Kidman (who won an Oscar for her performance), is working on the novel while struggling with what is now known as bipolar disorder. Laura, played by Julianne Moore (nominated for best supporting actress), is unfulfilled in her life as a 1950s housewife and mother. Clarissa (Meryl Streep) is — like Mrs. Dalloway — planning a party, but for her close friend who is dying of AIDS. The film, based on Michael Cunningham’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, received nine Oscar nominations, including the one for best picture.

    Nicole Kidman in 2002’s ‘The Hours.’

    Paramount/Courtesy Everett Collection

    Inception (2010)
    Christopher Nolan once again challenges audiences with multiple interconnected narrative layers while delivering thrilling action sequences and stunning visual effects. Inception asks the question, “Can you alter a person’s thoughts by manipulating their dreams?” Taking almost 10 years to write, the film was praised for its aesthetic significance and Nolan’s ability to create scenes using cameras rather than computer-generated imagery. A metaphysical heist drama with an emotional core driven by grief and guilt, Inception offers a meditation on how dreams influence identity, and it resonates deeply in an age of digital simulation, blurred realities and uncertainty. The film earned $830 million at the box office and collected four Academy Awards.

    Joseph Gordon-Levitt (left) and Leonardo DiCaprio in 2010’s ‘Inception.’

    Stephen Vaughan/Warner Bros./Courtesy Everett Collection

    The Incredibles (2004)
    With an all-star cast and a memorable soundtrack, this Oscar-winning Pixar hit uses thrilling action sequences to tell the story of a family trying to live normal lives while hiding their superpowers. For the first time, Pixar hired an outside director, Brad Bird, who drew inspiration from spy films and comic books from the 1960s. The animation team developed a new design element to capture realistic human anatomy, hair, skin and clothing, which Pixar struggled with in such early films as Toy Story. The film spawned merchandise, video games, LEGO sets and more. The sequel was also a blockbuster, with both films generating almost $2 billion at the box office.

    Dash (voiced by Spencer Fox), Violet (Sarah Vowell), Mr. Incredible (Craig T. Nelson) and Elastigirl (Holly Hunter) in 2004’s ‘The Incredibles.’

    Walt Disney/Courtesy Everett Collection

    The Karate Kid (1984)
    An intimate story about family and friendship, this also succeeds as a hero’s journey, a sports movie and a teen movie — a feel-good picture, but not without grit. It offers clearly defined villains, romance and seemingly unachievable goals, but also an elegant character-driven drama that’s relatable and touching. A father who has lost his son meets the displaced son of a single mother and teaches him about finding balance and avoiding the pitfalls of violence and revenge. Race and class issues are presented honestly and dealt with reasonably. Our hero practices a lot, gets frustrated, gets hurt, but still succeeds. It’s as American as they come, and it’s a classic.

    “The magic of Pat Morita as Mr. Miyagi and me as the Daniel LaRusso character, that sort of give and take, that instant soulful magic, was happening from our first meeting,” Ralph Macchio told the Library of Congress. “Those scenes in Miyagi’s yard, the chores, the waxing on of the car, the painting the fences, the sanding the floor, all of that is now a part of cinematic pop culture. For me, the heart and soul of the film is in those two characters.”

    Pat Morita (left) and Ralph Macchio in 1984’s ‘The Karate Kid.’

    Columbia Pictures/Courtesy Everett Collection

    The Lady (1925)
    When this debuted in theaters, the silent film era had hit its stride, and this represents a powerhouse of artists at their peak. Director Frank Borzage was a well-established expert in drawing out intense expressions of deep emotion and longing in his actors. He did just that with the film’s lead actress, Norma Talmadge, also at the height of her career, both in front of and behind the camera. Talmadge produced The Lady through her production company and commissioned one of the era’s most prolific screenwriters, Frances Marion, to deliver a heartfelt story of a woman seeking to find the son she had to give up in order to protect him from his evil grandfather. The Lady was restored by the Library of Congress in 2022.

    Norma Talmadge in 1925’s ‘The Lady.’

    Courtesy Everett Collection

    The Loving Story (2011)
    Buirski’s acclaimed documentary gives an in-depth and deeply personal look at the true story of Richard Loving (a white man) and Mildred Loving (a Black and Native American woman) who were forbidden by law to marry in the state of Virginia in the 1960s. Their Supreme Court case, Loving v. Virginia, was one of the most significant in history and paved the way for future multiracial couples to wed. The movie captures the immense challenges the Lovings faced to keep their family and marriage together through a combination of 16mm footage, personal photographs, accounts from their lawyers and family members and audio from the Supreme Court oral arguments.

    The Maid of McMillan (1916)
    Known to be the first student film on record, this whimsical, silent romance was shot on campus in 1916 by students in the Thyrsus Dramatic Club at Washington University in St. Louis. Club members Donald Stewart (class of 1917) and George D. Bartlett (class of 1920) wrote the screenplay. The original nitrate print was rediscovered in 1982, and two 16mm prints were made; the original nitrate was likely destroyed at this time. In 2021, with funding from the National Film Preservation Foundation, one of those 16mm prints was scanned at 4k and reprinted onto 35mm, helping to secure the film’s survival and legacy.

    The Oath of the Sword (1914)
    A three-reel silent drama, this depicts the tragic story of two young lovers separated by an ocean. Masao follows his ambitions, studying abroad at the University of California, Berkeley, while Hisa remains in Japan, caring for her ill father. This earliest known Asian American film production featured Japanese actors playing Japanese characters and was produced by the Los Angeles-based Japanese American Film Co. Made when Hollywood studios were not yet the dominant storytellers of the American film industry, The Oath of the Sword highlights the significance of early independent productions created by and for Asian American communities. James Card, the founding curator at the George Eastman Museum, acquired The Oath of the Sword in 1963. The museum made a black and white photochemical preservation in 1980. In 2023, a new preservation reproducing the original tinting was done in collaboration with the Japanese American National Museum, and the film has become widely admired.

    Hisa Numa (left) and Tomi Mori in 1914’s ‘The Oath and the Sword.’

    Courtesy Library of Congress

    Philadelphia (1993)
    This stars Tom Hanks in one of the first mainstream studio movies to confront the HIV/AIDS crisis. In the film, law partner Andrew Beckett (Hanks) is fired when it’s discovered that he’s gay and has AIDS. He hires personal attorney Joe Miller (Denzel Washington) to help him with litigation against his former employer. Director Jonathan Demme was quoted as saying, “The film is not necessarily just about AIDS, but rather everyone in this country is entitled to justice.” The film won two Oscars: one for Hanks and the other for Bruce Springsteen’s “The Streets of Philadelphia”; the song’s mainstream radio and MTV airplay brought the film and its conversation around the HIV/AIDS pandemic to a wider audience.

    Tom Hanks and Jason Robards in 1993’s ‘Philadelphia.’

    TriStar Pictures/Courtesy Everett Collection

    Say Amen, Somebody (1982)
    Nierenberg’s documentary is a celebration of the historical significance and spiritual power of gospel music. With inspirational music, joyful songs and brilliant singers, it focuses on the men and women who pioneered gospel music and strengthened its connections to African American community and religious life. Before production, Nierenberg, who is white, spent more than a year in African American churches and communities, gaining the trust of the performers. Restored by the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture in 2020, the film features archival footage, photographs, stirring performances and reflections from the father of gospel Thomas A. Dorsey and its matron Mother, Willie Mae Ford Smith. Nierenberg shows the struggles and sacrifices it takes to make a living in gospel, including criticism endured by women who sought to pursue careers as professional gospel singers while raising families.

    Sparrows (1926)
    As a silent actress, producer and American film industry pioneer, Mary Pickford in Sparrows represents her ability to master the genre she helped nourish: sentimental melodramas full of adventure and thrills, with dashes of comedy and heartfelt endings. Pickford plays Molly, the eldest orphan held within the swampy squalor of the Deep South, who moves heaven and earth to save the other orphan children from a Dickensian world of forced labor. The film takes some departures from the visual styles found in Pickford’s other films, invoking an unusual tone of despair while deploying camera angles and lighting akin to German Expressionist cinema. Sparrows was preserved by the Library of Congress in collaboration with the Mary Pickford Co. in 2020.

    Mary Pickford starred in 1926’s ‘Sparrows.’

    Courtesy Everett Collection

    Ten Nights in a Barroom (1926)
    Featuring an all-Black cast, this was produced in 1926 by the Colored Players Film Corp. of Philadelphia and is the earliest of only two surviving films made by the company. The silent picture is based on the stage melodrama adapted from the 1854 novel Ten Nights in a Bar-Room and What I Saw There by Timothy Shay Arthur. Released in 2015 by Kino Lorber as part of the five-disc set Pioneers of African-American Cinema, the compilation was produced by the Library of Congress in association with the British Film Institute; George Eastman Museum; Museum of Modern Art; National Archives; Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture; Southern Methodist University; and the UCLA Film & Television Archive. Preserved by George Eastman Museum.

    The Thing (1982)
    Moody, stark, often funny and always chilling, this science fiction horror classic from John Carpenter follows Antarctic scientists who uncover a long-dormant, malevolent extraterrestrial presence. The Thing revolutionized horror special effects and offers a brutally honest portrait of the results of paranoia and exhaustion when the unknown becomes inescapable. It deftly adapts John W. Campbell’s 1938 novella Who Goes There?, influenced Stranger Things and Reservoir Dogs and remains a tense, thrilling and profoundly unsettling work of cinema.

    Kurt Russell in 1982’s ‘The Thing.’

    Universal/Courtesy Everett Collection

    The Tramp and the Dog (1896)
    This silent from Chicago’s Selig Polyscope Co. is considered director William Selig’s most popular early work. Filmed in Rogers Park, it is recognized as the first commercial film made in Chicago. Previously lost, it was rediscovered in 2021 at the National Library of Norway. It depicts a tramp who attempts to steal a pie from a backyard windowsill, only to be foiled by a broom-wielding housewife and her dog. This is one of the first known examples of “pants humor,” where a character loses (or almost loses) his pants during an altercation. The scene inspired future comedy gags showing drifters and tramps losing their pants to dogs chasing them.

    The Truman Show (1998)
    Before social media and reality TV, there was Peter Weir’s The Truman Show. Jim Carrey breaks from his usual comedic roles to star in this drama about a man who, unbeknownst to him, is living his life on a soundstage filmed for a popular reality show. Adopted at birth by a television studio, Truman Burbank grew up in the (fictitious) town of Seahaven Island with his family and friends (paid actors) playing roles. Cameras are all over the soundstage and follow his activities 24/7. Almost 30 years since its release, this continues to be a study in sociology, philosophy and psychology and has inspired university classes on media influence, the human condition and reality television.

    Jim Carrey in 1998’s ‘The Truman Show.’

    Courtesy Everett Collection

    White Christmas (1954)
    While the chart-topping song “White Christmas” was first performed by Crosby for Holiday Inn, its composer, Irving Berlin, was later inspired to center the song in this musical film. Crosby, along with Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, Vera-Ellen Rohe and director Michael Curtiz, embedded “White Christmas” in American popular culture as a best-selling single and the top-grossing film of 1954, as well as regular holiday viewing throughout the decades. The story of two World War II veterans-turned-entertainers and a singing sister act preparing a show for a retired general, the film and its grand musical numbers were captured in VistaVision, the widescreen process developed by Paramount Pictures and first used for this movie.

    From left: Vera-Ellen, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney and Bing Crosby in 1954’s ‘White Christmas.’

    Courtesy Everett Collection

    The Wrecking Crew (2008)
    This documentary showcases a group of Los Angeles studio musicians who played on hit songs and albums of the 1960s and early ’70s, including “California Dreamin’,” “The Beat Goes On,” “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling” and “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’.” Through interviews, music, footage and his own narration, director Tedesco reveals how the Wrecking Crew members — including his father, guitarist Tommy Tedesco — were the unsung heroes of some of America’s most famous songs. Production on the film began in 1996, and the film was completed in 2008. Because of the high cost of song licenses, the official release was delayed until 2015, when a Kickstarter campaign raised more than $300,000 to pay for the music rights.

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  • ‘Truman Show’ Writer Reveals Alternate Ending And Far Bleaker Original Screenplay

    ‘Truman Show’ Writer Reveals Alternate Ending And Far Bleaker Original Screenplay

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    9,160 days after it premiered, the screenwriter of “The Truman Show” has revealed the film’s original ending.

    In the 1998 film, Jim Carrey portrays an insurance salesman named Truman Burbank who discovers his idyllic life on Seahaven Island has been entirely faked ― and broadcast on live television for the viewing pleasure of the masses since he was born.

    In an interview for its 25th anniversary, screenwriter Andrew Niccol told The Hollywood Reporter that Carrey ad-libbed the film’s most memorable line and that the story was initially set in a major metropolis. He also revealed that his original script was far bleaker than the finished product.

    “I did envisage something darker,” Niccol told the outlet. “In the original script, there was an innocent passenger attacked on the subway as a way to test Truman’s courage, and Truman had a platonic relationship with a prostitute who he dressed as Sylvia.”

    The character Sylvia (Natascha McElhone) is cast in Truman’s show as a potential love interest but goes off-script and nudges him toward self-discovery. Niccol said the pair’s moonlit beach dates nearly didn’t happen, however, as director Peter Weir changed the setting entirely from the original draft.

    “I always thought the premise was bullet-proof, and even though the original draft is set in an alternate version of New York City — if you can fake it there, you can fake it anywhere — I was happy to embrace Peter’s more idyllic, small-town take on a counterfeit world,” he said.

    Carrey was famously making comedies like “Dumb and Dumber,” the “Ace Ventura” franchise and “The Mask” at the time. Niccol said Carrey “originally ad-libbed” Truman’s catchphrase ― “Good morning! And if I don’t see you, good afternoon, good evening and good night.”

    The film was originally set in New York City and saw Truman fall in love with a prostitute.

    Archive Photos via Getty Images

    Carrey has pondered what a sequel might look like and noted in a 2020 interview with Collider that “everybody has their own little Truman Show world.” The actor told the outlet that “there’s something to be had there.”

    “I often think, and am asked about, what would have happened to Truman when he goes outside the wall,” he told Collider. “It took me a while to realize that basically, he was alone out there, too, because everybody went back inside. They all wanted to be in the dome.”

    “The Truman Show” and its depiction of reality TV, which stunned critics and audiences alike, was certainly prescient — despite real-life series like “Big Brother” or “The Real World” already drawing in millions of viewers in the late 1990s.

    Niccol’s script explored in satisfying detail what it would take for thousands of cast and crew members to simulate real life for one unwitting victim. The film’s iconic ending of a man discovering his gilded cage, meanwhile, almost took viewers much further.

    “There was a lot of debate about how the mechanics of the set worked,” Niccol told the Reporter. “There was even a version where we followed Truman through the sky, and he encountered a studio tour and a souvenir store all devoted to him.”

    “In the end, Peter made the right decision to end it when he left the set.”

    Check out the full Hollywood Reporter piece here.

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  • Don’t Be Afraid of Beau Is Afraid—Unless the Overbearing Jewish Mother Trope Is Your Worst Nightmare

    Don’t Be Afraid of Beau Is Afraid—Unless the Overbearing Jewish Mother Trope Is Your Worst Nightmare

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    As one of those movies that has so much psychological buildup surrounding it before one even goes into the theater (or rather, if one goes into the theater at all to watch movies), Beau Is Afraid has as many things working against garnering audience attention as it does attracting it. In the latter column, of course, is that it’s directed by Ari Aster, the writer-director slowly but steadily being groomed into a modern auteur by A24. Then there is the cast, an impressive coterie of actors, including Patti LuPone, Nathan Lane, Amy Ryan and Parker Posey, led by Joaquin Phoenix. But there in the “repelling” column is that the movie comes across as “weird”—deliberately “off-putting.” Especially to the layperson. This, of course, is compounded by the two hour and fifty-nine-minute runtime of the film. In effect, Aster is saying, “This movie is not about people-pleasing.” Some would be hard-pressed to see it as being about anything at all. Those people have perhaps never suffered from the crippling anxiety and paranoia involved in simply leaving the (semi-)safety of their abode. In that sense, one can look at the first portion of Beau Is Afraid as being like What About Bob? on steroids, complete with Bob’s (Bill Murray) extreme phobia of leaving the apartment. Except that, in Beau’s case, that fear is entirely merited.

    Living in the fictional city of Corrina, CR, it reads visually like a combination of New York and San Francisco (and yes, SF gets far more flak for its violent, erratic homeless population than NY—though perhaps NY simply has a greater number of ass-kissers at its PR disposal). Beau’s apartment building is situated next to a sex shop called Erectus Ejectus and across the street from the Cheapo Depot, a bodega run by a take-no-prisoners proprietor who isn’t liable to give you any kind of discount when you happen to be short on the amount just because you’re a regular. After all, he can’t afford such niceties in a hostile climate like this. One that, in the end, seems entirely manufactured by Mona Wasserman (Patti LuPone), Beau’s corporate maven of a mother. The type of woman who far exceeds a cutesy, demeaning term like “girlboss.” This is a woman who puts all previous known masterminds and manipulators to shame. To this end, Aster, born into a Jewish family, can now easily be characterized by this film as the proverbial self-hating Jew. No longer a title that Woody Allen alone can claim as a result of his affirmed cancellation in the film industry (essentially capitulating to that cancellation by admitting his next movie would be his last…until backpedaling on that statement soon after).

    As such, Aster’s presentation of a Jewish mother as so overbearing and controlling that she would go to such lengths to hyper-manage her only son’s life definitely one-ups any self-hating depictions Allen ever offered (see: Annie Hall, Deconstructing Harry). Or Allen’s nemesis, for that matter: Philip Roth. And yes, there are plenty of Portnoy’s Complaint elements in the mix here (chief among them the giant penis locked in the attic intended to represent Beau’s father).

    It would also make one remiss in their cinephilic tendencies to overlook The Truman Show as a major influence on this particular work. With that “I’m being watched” kind of revelation occurring in Part Two of the movie, as Beau finds himself in the “care” of a sinister couple of means named Grace (Amy Ryan) and Roger (Nathan Lane) after being mowed down by their truck while in the midst of running through the street outside his apartment naked. This occurring as a result of the homeless population outside finding their way in as a roundabout result of Beau’s keys being stolen from his door. After they party all night with Beau watching from some scaffolding outside, he awakens the next morning to find his apartment empty. Or so he thinks. However, upon taking a bath after learning of his mother’s death from a UPS guy (voiced and briefly cameo’d by Bill Hader), the sight of another crazed “unhoused” person clinging to the ceiling above him ultimately sends him running outside in his birthday suit. Oh yes, and there’s also an errant serial killer in the neighborhood called Birthday Boy Stab Man, likely dubbed as such because he “operates” in his birthday suit. And, of course, he ends up stabbing Beau a few times after he’s rendered immobile and barely conscious due to the truck hitting him. Therefore, all of Beau’s worst fears and anxieties are realized—and then some.

    It’s not a coincidence that all those fears and anxieties start to reach a crescendo after Beau has “rejected” his mother by telling her he’s not going to make it to the airport in time for their scheduled visit because someone stole his keys and he doesn’t feel comfortable heading out until the locks have been changed. But Mona has her ways and her machinations for coaxing Beau into an Odyssean journey to make it back as soon as possible so that her funeral can proceed. Because, that’s right, she’s faked her own death to inflict the amount of guilt she thinks he feels deserving of (and here, the trope of a Jewish mother’s guilt is on full blast). Per Mona’s lawyer, “Dr.” Cohen, she’s stipulated in her will that the ceremony cannot take place without him. Unfortunately for Beau’s guilt quotient, it gets upped by the fact that Jewish law dictates that a body must be buried right away. So it is that Beau is both a bad son and a bad Jew. A fate that seems irreversible to all male Jews, if we’re to go by literature and film. Grace and Roger, the epitome of a white-bread Christian couple, could never know Beau’s torment, even as they conspire to be a part of it. It’s not as clear whether their surviving teenage daughter, Toni (Kylie Rogers), is as “in on it” as her parents, who have been trying to fill the void left in the absence of their dead son, Nathan, a soldier that died in combat. Caring for his fellow battalion member, Jeeves (Denis Ménochet), an unhinged man requiring many meds, is the obvious way for them to “make up” for the loss of Nathan. But with the arrival of Beau comes a new opportunity to “nurture.” Even if it’s as smothering and oppressive as Mona’s version of “nurturing.”

    Early on in the movie, some would immediately say the world Beau inhabits is cartoonish and absurdist—at one point literally becoming animated as he imagines himself as the protagonist of a play he’s watching. Or that all of his fears are a result of the kind of hyper-neurotic nature that Jews are frequently stereotyped as having (of course, who can blame them with anti-Semitism alive and well even after the extermination of six million of their kind?). But, in the end, the one fear he doesn’t think to have is actually not so far-fetched: being monitored constantly. For it’s not hard to believe that someone (especially someone with enough money) could track, record and/or film your every move, and then use it against you when they finally want to render you totally paralyzed by the paranoia you thought you had overcome. Worse still, use it to play into all your worst senses of guilt. After all, it’s no coincidence that the billboard outside Beau’s building bears the Big Brother-y tagline, “Jesus Sees Your Abominations.” More like Mona does.

    And, talking of taglines, Beau has been part of Mona’s advertising campaigns for most of his life. She being the head of a multi-faceted conglomerate that has its hand in everything from pharmaceuticals to film production. With Mona’s company name for the latter being Mommy Knows Best. An eerie assertion from a woman who has her eye in every possible surveillance pie. This going hand in hand with “security,” for which MW (which stands for Mona Wasserman) also has a tagline: “Your security has been our priority for forty years.” Beau’s own age is forty-eight (same as Joaquin Phoenix’s) as we come to find at the end, when a god-like voice (Dr. Cohen’s) announces his date of birth as May 10, 1975. So perhaps the key root of all Beau’s issues is that he’s a Taurus. But no, it’s being born to a Jewish mother, if Aster would have us convinced of anything. It’s also a very deliberate word choice for Mona to use the phrase “claw your way out of me” to Beau during their ultimate showdown in what can be called Part Four of the film. For it is with that “clawing” out of her womb that Beau Is Afraid begins, with the audience seeing his birth from Beau’s perspective.

    From the first moments of his existence, anxiety permeates everything as his mother frantically demands to know about the state and health of her child, who appears not to be breathing normally. But with a requisite slap on the ass, Beau is prompted to cry. This slapping cue turning more metaphorical as his repressed life wears on. For every time he is lashed in one way or another by his mother’s various cues, Beau snaps to attention and grudgingly “performs.” His life is not his own—it belongs to his mother. And this is made no more apparent than in her financial control over him. Indeed, Beau’s credit card is “mysteriously” deactivated after he tells Mona he can’t make his flight. Whether or not Beau was as willing a participant in his own infantilization as Mona is up to the viewer to decide. However, those with parents who have infantilized them are likely aware that being irrevocably handicapped by the crushing weight of “safety and security” eventually feels like an unavoidable fate rather than something that can be fought against. Surrender Dorothy, as it is said. Or, in this case, Surrender Beau. That’s what Mona, in the Wicked Witch of the West’s stead is undeniably saying. And she’s saying it because she knows she has all the resources necessary to take him down and debilitate him.

    In this regard, Jacobin’s take on Mona as a cold capitalist machine that it would be impossible to receive any unconditional or pure love from is right on the money (no pun intended). Jacobin, too, points out certain similarities between Citizen Kane and Beau Is Afraid in that it’s “a character study of a boy whose ‘parents were a bank.’” Or, for Beau, “parent.” And what kind of love can really be received from someone who has to be clinical and cold enough to be able to make millions (or billions) of dollars? It bears noting that Jacobin’s critique of the film isn’t favorable, writing Beau off as the product of a writer who gets off on “trauma tourism”—but if he had really suffered from that much genuine trauma, Beau/Aster wouldn’t have the luxury of portraying it at all. Maybe, to a certain extent, this is a fair assessment. The people given a megaphone to talk about trauma still tend to be people who grew up middle-class, white and male. Read: Aster. And yet, as Bob Dylan said, “I’m helpless, like a rich man’s child.” This simile is not without its value in considering a being such as Beau, given a surfeit of tangible tools as a result of having a rich progenitor, but no real ones he could actually use to cope in a life outside of “the nest.”

    And what could “real life” possibly be to a boy who ostensibly grew up in a fishbowl town called Wasserton (named after his mother), anyway? This, again, channels The Truman Show vibes, when it’s not also smacking of something pulled from the mind of fellow Jewish auteur Charlie Kaufman (think: Synecdoche, New York). And, like Kaufman, Aster is concerned with the futility of attempting to alter one’s preordained fate. Because no matter how we try to fight it or “rewrite” it (as the artist so often does in their work), in the end, “it is written.” That much is made obvious when we see Beau fast-forward through the surveillance footage of himself at Grace and Roger’s to the final scene in the movie. The final scene is his life. One that will be quite full-circle in terms of comparing it to the opening scene: his birth.  

    As for the mother-son dynamic that serves as the central anchor of the narrative, the classic Oedipus story is also constantly in motion, with Mona clearly wanting to keep her son’s love and desire all to herself—hence, the urban legend she scares him into believing about his father that keeps Beau as well beyond a forty-year-old virgin. With the epididymitis to prove it. That means huge, swollen balls, to the unmedically trained. Ironically, of course, Beau’s “big balls” don’t translate to the idiomatic version of that phrase inferring bravery and “chutzpah.” Quite the opposite as he spends most of the movie quivering and cowering in fear (the movie title is there for a reason). Not just of what could happen, but what has happened already. Which is where Aster’s knack for horror melds seamlessly with the psychological trauma of memory, and remembering. That’s all Beau does, as we seem to see him existing in multiple planes of time via perpetual reflection (such is the luxury of not having a job apart from existence itself).

    In this way, viewers will be allowed to question how much of what happens is “just in his head” versus how much is “reality.” Which, as most know, is totally subjective. This being a large part of why Mona can manipulate Beau’s “reality” for her own controlling ends. Ends that appear to be more sadistic than altruistic, as she would like to tell herself. For example, when he’s born and arrives out of the womb in silence, her demand is: “Why isn’t he crying?” In other words, doesn’t he know how painful it is to exist (nay, for Mona to bring him into existence) and what the according reaction should be? This later translates to another question she asks of Beau: “Is he afraid enough of the world?” No? Well then Mona—rich Mona—will make it so. With this in mind, although Beau is firmly Gen X, we have an undeniable commentary on millennial-baby boomer relations contained in Beau Is Afraid as well. For was it not the boomers who wanted to give their millennial spawn the pristine, protected childhood that they never got? Resulting in the manufacture of a generation consisting mostly of scared, confused man-children just like Beau.

    Initially billed by Aster as a “nightmare comedy” (like something in the spirit of Martin Scorsese’s After Hours in which all the protagonist wants to do is go home, but his prewritten destiny has other tortures in mind), how the genre of Beau Is Afraid comes across is more about how the viewer themselves sees life: as a comedy or tragedy. Here, too, it’s hard not to think of “Jewish representative” Woody Allen, who based an entire movie on this premise—the subpar Melinda and Melinda.

    For the seasoned neurotic and those accustomed to even the most basic of tasks in life being herculean to achieve without incident, the accurate takeaway is that it’s an absurdist tragicomedy. And so it goes without saying that any Marvel-loving gentile normies likely won’t bother with wandering into this film at all. And if they do, the criticism and balking is to be expected.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Dark City: The Matrix’s Underappreciated Precursor

    Dark City: The Matrix’s Underappreciated Precursor

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    For some reason, Dark City remains little revered or appreciated not only as a standalone film, but as something of the unwitting source material for The Matrix. While the plotlines are theoretically “different,” ultimately the Wachowskis borrowed heavily (even if unintentionally) from the themes explored by Dark City director Alex Proyas (who co-wrote the script with Lem Dobbs and David S. Goyer). Granted, Dark City was released just one year prior to The Matrix, so it could have been sheer coincidence that each “team” happened to have a similar style and narrative thread.

    After all, it’s often believed that the collective consciousness is tapped into the same zeitgeist at the same moment. And in the late 90s, the internet was becoming an increasingly prevalent and insidious force to be reckoned with (as no one could better attest to than Pamela Anderson). Whether they were fully aware of it or not, that “new reality” seemed to be weighing on both Proyas and the Wachowskis in various ways (not to mention Andrew Niccol, whose The Truman Show [released in 1998 as well] also mirrors Dark City at a particular moment when the protagonist reaches the end of the “city’s” limits). This being showcased through their brooding “anti-heroes,” John Murdoch (Rufus Sewell) and Thomas “Neo” Anderson (Keanu Reeves) as they navigate through a world that, quelle surprise, proves to be a simulation.

    In Dark City’s case, the simu is created by a group of Hellraiser-looking aliens who want to understand if memories are what make a human, well, human—or if they’re fundamentally who they are no matter what memories they have. This experiment is conducted by swapping out each human’s “memory set” every night at the stroke of midnight via inducing a mass slumber (in such a world, Taylor Swift might never have created her concept album, Midnights). This means that no matter where a person is, or what they’re doing, they’ll fall asleep so that “the Strangers” (as the extraterrestrials are called) and their go-to human henchman, Dr. Daniel Schreber (Kiefer Sutherland, getting as close to playing Igor in Young Frankenstein as he ever will), can “imprint” them with a new memory a.k.a. a new identity. For who are we if not the sum total of our memories?

    Unfortunately for Schreber, he’s dealing with an anomaly of a human in John, who wakes up in the middle of being imprinted with the identity of a murderer, prompting Schreber to flee. Coming to fully in a bathtub, John has no clear memory at all thanks to the interruption of the procedure. In this way, he becomes a “glitch in the matrix” that is the Strangers’ universe. Or rather, their patch of city in an infinite universe, as we eventually come to find out. With John in the Neo role in terms of taking on a sinister entity that wishes to keep humans in the dark (very literally in this scenario) about the true nature of their (non-)reality, both Dark City and The Matrix effectively remake the allegory of the cave from Plato’s Republic. Fittingly, that allegory is placed after the analogy of the sun. As for the cave allegory, it essentially speaks to what Plato’s mentor, Socrates, said at his trial: “The unexamined life is not worth living.” To remain in the dark might feel comfortable (in a comatose sort of fashion), but, in the end, it’s a vegetative state. This allegory was repurposed by the Wachowskis in the form of red pill/blue pill, with the former color leading one out of the darkness of their ignorance, no matter how painful it might be to deal with the knowledge they had previously been able to block out.

    John and Neo are both “inconsistencies” in the world that’s been built for their kind by the overlords that control it all. As such, they differ from their fellow humans in that the latter has no desire to leave their prison, just as the people chained in the cave, because they have no idea that another form of existence can be possible. This is the only “reality” they’ve ever known, so why would they try to alter it? Once the knowledge of the false reality is gleaned, however, one can start to make their way out of the cave and into “the light.” For John, that light is realizing that they’re in a manufactured city floating in the ether of space and, for Neo, that light is realizing his body has been marinating in a pod while being harvested for bioelectric power by artificially intelligent machines as his mind is placated with the false reality (“the matrix”) shared by all the other humans in their pods. Again, the cave dwellers in the allegory might argue that remaining in the dark is preferable. To this end, one might say The Matrix isn’t an unintentional rip-off of Dark City, so much as both movies are riffing on what Socrates and Plato were saying centuries ago.

    As for the similarities in theme and aesthetic, Peter Doyle, the visual effects colorist who worked on both films, laughingly recalled, “…I do remember sitting with [the Wachowskis] after they had just been shown Dark City. Because when they came through town with Barrie Osborne, the producer, the film hadn’t quite been released yet, so they’d set up to have a look. And then everyone just sitting around laughing, realizing that they’re just about to make Dark City again but called The Matrix instead.” So yes, they did see the movie while in the process of making The Matrix, but no one thought much of it. After all, a genre like that was so niche, the assumption was that nobody would complain about having another film of that “breed” added to the scant pile (“beefed up” in 1999 with David Cronenberg’s eXistenZ and Josef Rusnak’s The Thirteenth Floor, released in rapid succession right after The Matrix). As it turned out, no one in the U.S. would really complain, for Dark City was destined to become an obscure 90s gem compared to the blockbuster status The Matrix would achieve in said country, parodied and copied ad nauseam over the next decade.

    In addition to the aforementioned titans of Greek philosophy, the influence of The Twilight Zone on Dark City can’t be underestimated either, with said show often presenting narratives where the reality experienced by the lead character was a fabrication of some kind (including the very first episode, “Where Is Everybody?”). As for the fabrication that is Dark City, Schreber explains to John and Inspector Frank Bumstead (William Hurt), “When they first brought us here, they extracted what was in us, so they could store the information. Remix it like so much paint, and give us back new memories of their choosing… Your entire history is an illusion, a fabrication—as it is with all of us.”

    With this in mind, the set design was key to giving audiences that “remixed memory” feel the population is experiencing. Per production designer Patrick Tatopoulos, “The movie takes place everywhere, and it takes place nowhere. It’s a city built of pieces of cities. A corner from one place, another from someplace else. So, you don’t really know where you are. A piece will look like a street in London, but a portion of the architecture looks like New York, but the bottom of the architecture looks again like a European city. You’re there, but you don’t know where you are. It’s like every time you travel, you’ll be lost.” In other words, since everyone is everyone (with “memory sets” being swapped back and forth all the time), then everywhere might as well be everywhere, too. As it increasingly is in “real life” thanks to the unremitting effects of globalization. Perhaps that’s how the Wachowskis also chose to view the similarities between their film and Proyas’ precursor to it: “every late 90s sci-fi neo-noir is every late 90s sci-fi neo-noir.” And yes, as though to highlight that point, they used some of the same “everywhere is everywhere” sets from Dark City for The Matrix.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Fire and Ice Combine For Something Nice: Karol G and Shakira’s “TQG”

    Fire and Ice Combine For Something Nice: Karol G and Shakira’s “TQG”

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    Having only freshly released her fourth album, Mañana Será Bonito, Karol G’s “TQG” featuring Shakira already marks the fifth single from the record. Granted, Karol G got a bit of a head start before the album’s official announcement was made, with singles like “Provenza” and “Gatúbela” coming out in the spring and summer of 2022. Nonetheless, “TQG” somehow feels like the first “real” single from the album. Shakira might have more than a little something to do with that, especially considering how much she’s been in the spotlight of late thanks to her Gerard Piqué-slamming track, “Shakira: BZRP Music Sessions #53.” The reemergence of Shakira’s signature “sass” (and ass) has only helped contribute to the clapback vibe of “TQG”—an acronym for “Te Quedó Grande.” This loosely translating to: “Too much for you to handle.”

    On Beyoncé’s 2016 track, “Don’t Hurt Yourself,” she similarly boasted of being “too much” for the man who jilted her (a.k.a Jay-Z), flexing, “Blindly in love, I fucks with you/‘Til I realize I’m just too much for you/I’m just too much for you.” Where once it was the ultimate curse for a woman to be called “too much” (a not so veiled code for: “too much to deal with because she actually shows her emotions and intellectual complexities”), it’s now owned as a badge of honor (hence the new adage, “If I’m too much for you, then go find less”). For no woman wants to attract the kind of man who can’t “handle” a little “emotionalism” (this being a word certain men use to describe a woman’s expression of any feeling whatsoever). This is the type of man that Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) once characterized as being averse to “Katie girls”—a The Way We Were reference to those non-gays in the audience who don’t get it. And yes, Mr. Big (Chris Noth) is just that sort of breed (though it didn’t stop Carrie from continuing to lust after him). Preferring instead the “simple girls” that Pink so often loves to talk shit about despite such rhetoric no longer being considered chic.  

    Both Shakira and Karol G are ostensible Katie girls as well. Yet, unlike Beyoncé (an undercover simple girl), neither of these women are willing to forgive their erstwhile significant other for their transgressions, with Shakira once again referring to Gerard Piqué when she sings, “Seeing you with the new girl hurt me, but I’m now set on me/I’ve forgotten what we lived together, and that’s what you’re offended by/And even my life got better, you are no longer welcome here.” As for Karol G, her poisonous ex inspiration is Anuel AA (side note: Shakira collaborated with him on 2020’s “Me Gusta” before Karol G knew how it was going to turn out…but how’s that for full-circle retribution?). Despite being engaged to Karol G for two years, he ended up marrying a fellow rapper named Yailin La Más Viral—even had a baby with her before deciding to ditch her, too. So when Karol G declares, “You left saying you got over me/And you got yourself a new girlfriend/What she doesn’t know is that you’re still looking at all my stories,” one can really tell who the “muse” behind the lyric is.

    Karol and Shakira then goad their exes in concert via the chorus, “Baby, what happened?/Thought you were very in love?/What are you doing looking for me, honey/If you know that I don’t repeat mistakes/Tell your new bae that I don’t compete for men.” A sentiment that sounds similar to when men say, “I don’t have to pay for sex.” The confident bravado of the song is mirrored by its Pedro Artola-directed video, in which, while channeling Loud-era Rihanna with her red hair, Karol G takes up the mantle for Ri in “Can’t Remember to Forget You,” which also featured Shakira. In stark contrast to the lament and yearning of that single (released almost ten years ago now), “TQG” is a sign of the times for women who are no longer naïve or trusting enough to put up with multiple affronts from men. They’d rather turn such pain into profit, as Shakira mentions on her Bizarrap session with the line, “Women no longer cry/Women get paid.”

    Karol G confirms that with her verse, “I don’t have time for something that doesn’t do anything for me/I changed my route/Making money like sport/Filling my bank account with shows, the car park, the passport/I’m harder, the press reviews say.” Or perhaps “more wizened” is the better choice of words. Therefore not so prone to buying into the usual male bullshit, featuring such greatest hits as, “You know I love you, baby,” “It was only one time,” “It didn’t mean anything,” etc.

    With the video opening on images of Karol G projected on screens throughout the globe (including the many screens present on an airplane), she does a freefall off a building as Artola cuts to Shakira in an icy blue bodycon dress amid a snowy backdrop. After all, men have such a knack for turning women “cold” with their behavior. Karol G then appears on the scene in a contrasting red number that coordinates with her hair before the two transition to the opposite environmental milieu: fire burning all around them. For that’s the trail they’ve left in their wake after being burned by the men who did them wrong, only to scorch those men’s earth in recompense.

    As Karol G takes a page from the Shakira aphorism, “Hips don’t lie,” they dance suggestively in unison (even throwing in a portion of the beloved “Anitta dance” from “Envolver”), as though taunting any and every ex who made the mistake of thinking he could do better. The setting then shifts to a snowy one again as the rage in each woman subsides in favor of a cool, calm collectedness that her ex can no longer penetrate.

    That calmness being further emphasized by the The Truman Show-inspired blue sky-painted wall they hit at the end, complete with stairs leading to an open door (the possibilities presently wide open now that the whole world is their oyster without some cloying, complaining bloke to diminish their worth and make them feel guilty for it). And yes, someone—a slavish man—is watching them on TV in their bathtub in the final scene. For what else can any man do but watch as women continue to prove their superior value over and over again?

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    Genna Rivieccio

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