Tag Archives: carrie
The We and the I (2012)
Directed by Michel Gondry
Written by Michel Gondry, Jeff Grimshaw, and Paul Proch
It’s kinda unfair for me to call this his best film yet, because I haven’t seen every one of his films. Gondry is one of those directors where everyone knows his name, but few have seen more than a couple of his movies, and would be surprised to hear he’s made 10 in the last 13 years:
Human Nature (2001)
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
Dave Chappelle’s Block Party (2005)
The Science of Sleep (2006)
Be Kind Rewind (2008)
The Thorn in the Heart (2009)
The Green Hornet (2011)
The We and the I (2012)
Is the Man Who Is Tall Happy? (2013)
Mood Indigo (2013)
I’ve seen almost all of them, though. The only one I haven’t seen is The Thorn in the Heart, not counting the two I can’t see, since they haven’t, as of yet, had much of a release: Is the Man Who Is Tall Happy? and Mood Indigo.
All this to say, I’m at least more qualified than most to make this statement. Especially since I’ve even heard of this movie, which is an impressive feat in and of itself that sets me apart from everyone else on this planet.
With the remake of Carrie out, it’s that time again for everyone to make their favorite complaint: “Oh god, another remake! It’s like they’re raping my childhood!”
If you’re going to put forth that Hollywood is in need some new ideas, I’ll listen. But it’s not as though this is a new thing. Movies have always mostly been sequels, remakes, or adaptations. Pick any random year since the dawn of cinema and I guarantee you’ll find as many as you do today.
When I was in junior high school, Scarface was the most talked about movie in the hallways. It was 2000, and those hallways were a reflection of the culture at large. One time a kid asked me, “Who directed Scarface, Scorsese?” He had never heard of Brian De Palma.
There’s a popular book called Easy Riders, Raging Bulls. It’s a gossipy, oral history of 60s and 70s American movies. In the back of the book, they summarize the directors integral to the movement and give a filmography for each. Spielberg, Coppola, Scorsese, Lucas, and Malick are featured, but not Brian De Palma—despite being mentioned heavily in the book. You’d think the guy that gave Robert De Niro his first on-screen appearance (The Wedding Party, 1969) and gave him steady work way before Scorsese ever did, would be important enough to mention.