Every month, Establishing Shot brings you a selection of films from our group of regular bloggers. Even though these films aren’t currently being screened at the IU Cinema, this series reflects the varied programming that can be found at the Cinema and demonstrates the eclectic tastes of the bloggers. Each contributor has picked one film that they saw this month that they couldn’t wait to share with others. Keep reading to find out what discoveries these cinephiles have made, as well as some of the old friends they’ve revisited.
Chris Forrester, contributor | Margaret (2011)
The finest film I watched this month, and likely also the best I’ve seen thus far this year, was Kenneth Lonergan’s sprawling, naturalistic study of trauma’s decentering effects, Margaret (2011), available through the end of the month in its three-hour extended cut on Criterion Channel. Seventeen-year-old Lisa (Anna Paquin, in a performance of staggering rawness) witnesses a bus accident for which she feels a degree of responsibility and, in its aftermath, searches for meaning and absolution amidst the isolating melancholy of urban adolescence. Lonergan’s film is at once epic and intimate, casting aside the tropes and heightened dramas that typically populate films about grief and tragedy, and in their stead, finds a shattering tone of lonely quietude and unremitting honesty.
The central drama of Margaret generally concerns Lisa’s growing feelings of culpability and the ways she handles them, which lead her to Emily, a friend of the accident’s sole victim (whose passing is one of those scenes that immediately sears itself into the crevices of your mind), with whom she seeks whatever semblance of justice the legal system can provide. Lisa’s search for legal closure is less about righteousness than self-exculpation. As much as she seems to think she wants things made right, her efforts to right them conceal a desperate, flailing attempt at contending with the trauma of what’s happened — and the degree to which she feels responsible — and so the film becomes a rather haunting portrait of the inherent selfishness of coping with tragedy, and the loneliness that stems from our innately personal reckonings with it. But much more than a simple legal or coming-of-age drama, the film carries itself with the mournful tranquility of the finest tone poems, often breaking from its dramas altogether for extended sequences of New York’s skyline as planes fly over or cars clog the streets, aglow in the red of one another’s brake lights. On a scene-to-scene basis, Margaret feels decisively low-key, but by its ravishing ending, the sum of its parts feels overwhelming, magnificent; it’s one of the finest films of its ilk.
Noni Ford, contributor | Empire Records (1995)
Maybe it’s the hint of spring in the air or the way some restaurants have now begun to offer outdoor seating again, but I felt like watching a summer movie this month. While I have a few favorites in the genre, I ended up rewatching a film I haven’t seen in quite a while. Available now to stream for free on YouTube, Empire Records for the non-initiated is a classic ’90s summer film to me. It has a bit of everything: the fight against the corporatization of music stores, a love confession that must be delivered by the end of the day, and Rex Manning Day. The story follows several employees of a record store as they juggle with making plans for the future and saving a store that means so much to them. Each employee offers something so uniquely different to the store, but what tie them all together is their love of music and their loyalty to the manager of the store, Joe. Hijinks ensue throughout the day as everyone deals with their own dramas and Joe attempts to find a way to save the store which is at risk of being sold off to a big company.
When I first watched Empire Records as a teenager, I was taken with how fun a job could be and fantasized often about working at a store like that where records were everywhere, you could be yourself, and no uniform was required. I couldn’t wrap my head around how Joe could let everyone sort of run wild in the store, but now I think I see that this character is more than just a nice boss, he’s a really kind and realistic guy. The record store will not be a forever job for most of the staff and many will move on to other things, but while they are employed here, they should all feel accepted and welcomed. This philosophy is what ultimately leads all our characters to end the movie in a good place knowing that, while they might be weirdos and misfits outside of the store, they are always a family in Empire Records.
I wouldn’t necessarily slot in coming-of-age as one of this film’s genres, but for some characters there are definitely coming-of-age moments. The employees are a mix of teenagers and young adults in their early 20s, prime time for just living life and thinking about the future. While the primary lead characters are about to make major decisions on school, I really enjoy that the film offers us characters like Deb and Gina who are going a non-traditional route but are pursuing potential happiness in their own lives. If you have graduation on the brain or the next phase in your life, then I’d recommend giving Empire Records a watch as you contemplate your next move in life.
Jesse Pasternack, contributor | Godzilla Minus One (2023)
If you haven’t seen Godzilla Minus One, then you’re missing out on one of the best films from last year. It combines a brilliant take on one of the most iconic characters from 20th-century Japanese cinema with a moving story that deals with serious subject matter. That combination is thrilling and will make you want to watch many Godzilla films.
Godzilla Minus One begins in 1945 on the fictional Odo Island. Kamikaze pilot Kōichi Shikishima (Ryunosuke Kamiki), who fakes plane trouble to avoid a suicide mission, encounters a large dinosaur-like creature whom the locals call Godzilla. After World War II ends, Shikishima returns to Tokyo, where he starts supporting a young woman named Noriko (Minami Hamabe) and an orphaned girl named Akiko (Sae Nagatani). They form a type of family until 1947 when Godzilla (who has been mutated by nuclear tests at Bikini Atoll) resurfaces. In the aftermath of a devastating attack on Tokyo, Shikishima soon becomes a part of a plan to take down the monster once and for all.
This movie does a great job at making Godzilla terrifying. In contrast to other films, where he is depicted as a fun figure who fights monsters to save humanity, here he is a force of nature who is out to destroy everything he can. Writer-director-visual effects supervisor Takashi Yamazaki does an excellent job of making you feel the fear that he causes in the people around him. The sequence where Godzilla destroys the Ginza district of Tokyo, complete with a shot of him “charging” to use his atomic breath, is as scary and effective as anything I’ve ever seen in a horror film.
But Godzilla Minus One has more on its mind than just depicting great battles between humans and a giant monster. It also tackles themes related to PTSD, shame, and the power of collective action in the face of institutional inactivity. Shikishima’s character arc is well-drawn and moving, especially in regards to his initially adversarial relationship with former mechanic Tachibana (Munetaka Aoki). Their final scene together is so moving that it made me want to applaud.
Like many great films, Godzilla Minus One made me laugh, cry, and feel thrilled at seeing its great use of cinematic techniques. It also brilliantly depicts Godzilla, one of the most famous movie characters of all time, in a way that makes him feel as terrifying and fascinating as he did when he first appeared in a movie 70 years ago. I’m glad that it shows that there is still a lot of life left in this most iconic of movie monsters.