It is axiomatic to say that Jurassic Park made many kids want to become paleontologists. Quite odd given how many people die because of dinosaurs in that film. To which I say, I suppose my initial statement excludes those children who were terrified upon seeing a man be eaten alive by a Tyrannosaurus Rex. But despite the necessary kill count of a monster movie, Spielberg still manages to dazzle the viewer with the marvel of the “veggie-saurus”.

But perhaps the marvel appears to soon? Jaws is probably the closest film to Jurassic Park out of Spielberg’s filmography. The critical difference is when the monsters appear for the first time. For Jaws, we never get a full visual of the shark until the final act. Prior to that, all we saw was its fin and the people getting thrown about in the water. However, Jurassic Park gives us a Brachiosaur when we haven’t even gotten halfway through the film. The difference in the timing of the big reveal is telling of what kind of monster film the two Spielberg classics are. Jaws is more horrifying and suspenseful because of the late reveal, while Jurassic Park is a spectacle, mirroring the purpose of John Hammond’s park in the film.

For the late Roger Ebert, this difference is what made Jurassic Park a lesser film compared to Jaws. However, I think the point of Jurassic Park was not the same as Jaws, and is thus, incomparable.

When we first see a dinosaur, it is stunning, majestic. The setting contains picturesque skies and rolling fields next to glistening lakes. Herds of dinosaurs graze about. It is nice, arguably, almost too nice. Afterwards, we see the Raptor cage. However, we do not see the carnivores, we only see the aftermath of their feeding session. As the two paleontologists, Dr. Grant and Dr. Sattler (along with the ever charming and hilarious Dr. Malcolm) see the first couple of dinosaurs; they begin to question how wise this all is. In other words, they wonder about the implications of having the revival of a long extinct species, like when Dr. Malcolm says, “Yeah, yeah, but your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could that they didn’t stop to think if they should.” How can anyone hope to control, let alone understand, such an ancient species from such an ancient environment?

Lets consider this question, first, through the plot elements that include dinosaurs. We initially see the herbivores and carnivores in isolation. However, as the movie progresses, we see the T-Rex hunting other dinosaurs. Also, as Dr. Malcolm predicted, the dinosaurs are breeding despite being all female. It is progression – nature finds its way.

An image that shows this progression frames the core plot of the film. When the characters first land, we get a close up of the Jurassic Park logo on the jeep door. It is clean, new, and pristine. When the film ends and they are leaving on the jeep, we get another close up of the logo. Now it is covered in dirt.

There is another thing that is covered in dirt, or rather, mud – Nedry’s can he uses to transport the embryos. Natural forces bring on even his demise. Despite his calculated manner in which he steals the embryos, once outside, he crashes twice because of the reduced vision caused by the rain. Honestly, you can even consider karma a natural force, and Nedry gets his fair share of it.

It is all an illusion of control. The control never existed. Comically, this mirrors Spielberg’s experience while making this movie – even Jaws. When they were shooting the scene where the T-Rex breaks free, the rain was causing the machine to be too heavy, meaning it would not move properly. The shark in Jaws also had a lot of technical difficulties. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. It is a stretch, but this film, the more you think about it, is actually quite meta. Maybe not blatantly so, but it is there, hidden beneath the mud.

Although I had seen this film many times before (I had a VHS copy and I would watch it over and over again as a child), this was the first time I had seen it on a big screen. I must really thank the State Theatre and the Michigan Theatre for constantly providing the opportunity to watch such classics that I was never able to watch in a theatre with other people – the atmosphere films were intended for. Seeing the famous moments in the big screen added a new sense of tension. The water rippling in the cup, the T-Rex roaring for the first time, the kitchen scene, the first dinosaur experience, the T-Rex chase scene, the ending fight between the T-Rex and the Raptors, and so on.

I just want to gush and gush. But I won’t.

I’m not saying that the film is perfect; for they’re quite a lot of blatant continuity errors. But, who cares? Who cares when you can watch fucking dinosaurs. NEED I SAY MORE? See what this flick reduces me to? I devolve into a little child. Only great blockbusters can do that (just listening to the score does it for me).

The Spielberg marathon is still going on. Films like Saving Private Ryan and Raiders of the Lost Ark are coming up, so I suggest you go watch it on the big screen. Get some friends to go with you. GOOD TIMES

My first introduction to the ‘mumblecore’ movement, popularized by filmmakers like the Duplass brothers and Joe Swanberg, was Swanberg’s “Drinking Buddies.” Wikipedia calls mumblecore “a subgenre of independent film characterized by low budget production values and amateur actors, heavily focused on naturalistic dialogue.” I’ve always been intrigued by the genre, so I was excited to kick off the weekend by sitting back and watching “Funny Ha Ha,” the debut of writer-director Andrew Bujalski, the so-called “Godfather of Mumblecore.”

I’m very susceptible to the charms of mumblecore; based on the two Swanberg movies I’ve seen, the other one being “Happy Christmas,” I’m always instantly enchanted by the improvised dialogue and striking realness of the style, so much so that I’m able to easily overlook the movies’ flaws. Comments I read online about “Happy Christmas” criticized Anna Kendrick’s overly improvised dialogue, the way she constantly stammered “um” as if the actress genuinely didn’t know what to say, and others criticized the thinness of the plot. For me, these things worked fine. What can I say? The style just doesn’t work for some people, and I can totally understand why. But these movies seem to be tailor-made for my tastes.

Still, I wasn’t prepared for quite how low-budget, how awkward, how mumble-y “Funny Ha Ha” was. The film has been called the first mumblecore movie, and after only a couple minutes, I could see that that was true. The movie takes the ‘rough around the edges’ style of the genre and really abides by it. The sound design is, frankly, terrible; when characters off-camera speak to characters on-camera, their voices are very visibly coming from different directions, and dialogue during crowded scenes is difficult to make out. The camerawork, too, is so shoddy. The movie is shot on 16mm, and it benefits from the lush texture of film, but the whole thing looks like a student film. I was expecting low-budget indie movie, but I wasn’t used to this low-budget.

The first few minutes, I thought, Oh god, this might actually be a terrible movie. The technical shoddiness was hard to get past, and the acting was pretty bad in some spots. I mean, a lot of the awkwardness of the movie is intentional, but especially at the beginning, some of the line readings and expressions just looked too unnatural to even be real. One character in particular, a friend named Rachel, is just so uncomfortable to watch, especially because the camera hovers on her for a strangely long time. All her jokes are lame, and she kind of laughs as she tells them as if they should be funny, but I had no idea if I was supposed to laugh at her or if the actress was just really bad at delivering the jokes.

After I sank in and got used to the style of the movie, though, I was able to go along with it. After half an hour or so, I thought, Okay, I like this movie. It’s clearly very early in the evolution of the movement, so it makes sense that it’d be like this. But it has something to offer. And then, by the time I reached the end, I adored it.

To begin with, the lead actress, Kate Dollenmayer, is really great as Marnie. Aside from a very minor role in one other Bujalski movie, this is her only credit as an actress, and she knocks it out of the park. There’s nothing showy about it, nothing extremely dramatic. Everything is subtle, like the way her face changes when she’s annoyed that her friend Mitchell (played by Bujalski himself) wants her to be so perky all the time. Even her physical look, though, is perfect for the part. Though she is thin and white, she doesn’t have the conventional Hollywood beauty that people expect from a character like her. Still, you’re inclined to believe Mitchell anyway when he assumes that 90% of the men she knows are in love with Marnie, because there’s something so endearing about her. She’s not babbly and ‘adorkable’ in the Anna Kendrick/Jennifer Lawrence sense, or even in the Greta Gerwig sense (Frances Ha is one of the many movies that, technically speaking, has basically the same plot as this one). She’s just kind of quiet, and when she gets angry she almost immediately feels bad for being angry and takes it back. She’s so averse to confrontation because she just doesn’t want to cause any trouble, and you can see her frustration when Alex confronts her on the phone about her feelings for him.

There are so many minor characters that are great. Mitchell is one of the most awkward characters I’ve ever seen in a movie, and you both feel bad for him and want him to just leave Marnie alone sometimes. Marnie’s friend Dave has a funny bit about how people love sitting on his lap. And awkward, aloof Alex can be a pretty big asshole, but it’s easy to get a sense for his chemistry with Marnie. The movie ends on a perfect note, with them as friends, but with Marnie refusing to play his games and fall for his charm anymore.

When it comes down to it, though, what made this movie so special to me, what made me sit there in silence for a few seconds afterward, is the sheer realness of it all. Anger is rendered as passive-aggression and quiet irritation rather than explosive rage. Sadness is silent observation and quiet utterances of “fuck.” Happiness is small smiles and wistful gazes and short little laughs. What interests me about these movies—and what will keep me coming back to them, both in these Weekend Watches and long into the future—is how it feels like I’m sitting in on an intimate gathering of characters who are real people I could easily meet tomorrow. Sometimes, being able to recognize the humanity in a film is enough.

Satire is a dead art form. Though calling this astounding failure of writing an art form is laughable. Nonetheless, satire is dead, and it rightfully should be.

To give the audience more credence to this claim, we must explain this universally flawed type of writing. Satire is comedic writing in its simplest and ugliest form. To describe satire is to describe comedy as seen through the eyes of a dog. Dogs don’t understand comedy and they would inevitably turn it into the disreputable satire. Is satire funny? It’s funny if you like a person screaming jokes, then explaining it afterwards. There is not a single salvageable thing that can be gained from reading satire. To put it simply (since satirists couldn’t understand it any other way), satire is constant, grating sarcasm thrown at the viewer in hopes that the viewer is gullible enough to take it seriously. Satire is a writer trying to laugh at and make fun of his or her audience through writing.

The problems with satire can be easily distinguished. Though how to narrow those problems down to fit into anything less than a bible sized text is the real difficulty. First, we can easily state that one of the absolute major problems with satire is the author. The problem is not that the author is bad at English (though that is true), the problem is that the authors of satire are so absolutely in love with themselves that they cannot seem to write anything that does not immediately please themselves. They do not care about social justice or bettering people, they solely want to get a rise out of people. They want their sarcasm to be so heavily caked on that people start to believe them. Their only purpose is to laugh at these poor souls who think that what they are saying is true. Satirists are the slugs of the Earth and our only choice is to stamp them out.

The second problem with the “art” of satire is the subject and the writer’s incessant prattling on. That is one of the worst downfalls of any piece: over-explanation. These foolish writers don’t seem to understand that people only want simple, easy to digest works. The only people who could possibly want a long, detailed essay are the simpletons. Those are the only people who would need these bloated works to understand what the author is discussing. Most intelligent people prefer simpler works, because we already understand the nuances of whatever topic the satirist is trying to discuss. And the subjects themselves are nothing of interest either. Satire seems to attract writers that can only focus on the most heavily covered topics (Yes, I know about racism, but your nonstop blithering is not going to affect me, Mark Twain.). There is a plague of satire on any topic that gains moderate coverage in the news. It would be of great pleasure to everyone if these writers would cease their abhorrent attacks on the very act of writing itself. Heaps of sarcasm do not change opinions, but only work to shine a poor light on the author (though the title of “Satirist” is in itself bad lighting), and glorify whatever side they are trying to fight against.

It is best to move on to the third problem with satire, as the second problem only succeeds to leave a bad taste in one’s mouth. The third, and last, brobdingnagian problem with satire is the constricting limits of the genre. No other “art” in the world has such a tight box with which to work inside of. Satirists must, as a whole, be either entirely uncreative or entirely lazy, as no one ever dares to push a boundary. How could such a large group of “creative writers” be so absolutely uncreative? It is astounding as to how little there is to work with in satire. The criterion is sarcasm, and the only thing that can be done with that is to be sarcastic. This rule is such a dictator in its control that no one can seem to step out from under its boot to write satire of a new type. Has anyone tried to write a satire without the self-serving sarcasm? That would be a breath of fresh air and an actual piece of art, especially when compared to the works that currently find themselves under the category of satire.

Now knowing the three primary problems with satire, let’s look at a work of satire to see where it fails so utterly. The best choice of satire to rip apart is probably the mind-blowingly doldrum work of Jonathan Swift, “A Modest Proposal”. This hilariously inept article was written in 1729 and it is about the fascinating idea of the Irish selling their children as food for money. The topic sounds interesting enough, but once a person starts the essay, it’s easy to understand why most, if not all, fall asleep after the first sentence. But, in order to critique the genre, we must critique the work, so we must move forward. The problem with the author is an easy one to crack. Of course Swift is self-serving “comedy” writer, like all other Satirists. A Modest Proposal is an easy gateway to this view. The topic of cannibalizing Irish children is a harsh one, and he clearly meant for it to shock and disgust people. Unfortunately, some people were not able to see through his ruse and they fell to him, believing each and every word, as if he actually meant what he wrote. This can only be meant as a very strong indicator of Swift’s soulless “humor”. The problem with the subject is an evident one also. While subject is grotesque, if it were to fall into a much better writer’s hands, it would have become quite an interesting read. In Swift’s hands, this topic just stretches on and on until it becomes babbling rather than any real attempt to make a point. In addition to this, the topic, while interesting, is so laden with political commentary that it becomes a nuisance. But, finally, we shall make our way to the last issue, the confines of “A Modest Proposal”. This topic is so airtight, that one can clearly see Swift trying to stretch out his legs. It’s unfortunate that when Swift tried to stretch, the box only seemed to become smaller. Coarse sarcasm and a constricting topic only serve an unending rant about poverty. He seems to be intent on the eating of children, with no other comments, which is not only boring, but unnerving as well. A Modest Proposal is a failure of an article by a failure of a writer.