Margaret (Extended Cut) (2011) Audio Commentary

Lisa Cohen, interested in her teacher.

RC-2013-104: Margaret (Extended Cut) (2011)



It took a while, but Kenneth Lonergan's follow up to You Can Count On Me finally got seen by audiences in 2011. During the marathon commentary (for, Lonergan's extended cut stretches past the three-hour mark), I go into the legal wrangling that delayed the release of Margaret. I comment on the theatrical cut's benefit's and shortcomings before declaring that Lonergan's cut—the film he turned in—is a masterpiece. (Martin Scorsese and Thelma Schoonmaker oversaw the editorial paring-down process that produced the theatrical cut, and though Lonergan ultimately approved, I will argue in this episode, he knew his cut was better.) After pointing out some of the differences between the cuts—which include everything from sound design to score to whole storylines that were excised—I settle into gush mode and praise the film's fresh approach to familiar themes. I spend the rest of the episode (when I'm not sticking up for Anna Paquin) telling the world why Jeannie Berlin's performance may be the most under-appreciated supporting turn in the history of moving pictures. Lonergan himself, playing Lisa Cohen's distant dad, is chubbier than you probably imagined he'd be, and Matt Damon looks younger than you thought he'd look. This movie is weird like that. Grab your popcorn and a diet cola, and settle in—this three-hour urban opera is a doosie... And don't call me honey, okay?


Listen to the mp3. Or turn your life into an iTunes opera—Bravi!

The Master (2012) Audio Commentary

You have to admit—some of those ink blotches do look sexual

RC-2013-103: The Master (2012)



Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master will be released on home media later this month—I'm on top of it. After making listeners jealous by bragging about being one of the lucky few who got to see the film projected properly on glorious 70 mm, I heap praise on DP Mihai Malamare for his use of the old-school film stock—the clarity, the depth of field, the rosy red colors of Philip Seymour Hoffman's nose! Noting that many were perplexed by the movie, I go on to explain my pet theories about What It All Means. The commentary spirals into a little bit of love fest, with me ladling more compliments on the casting choices and Anderson's daring, to-hell-with-convention screenwriting. I then go crazy by having the audacity to mildly criticize His Excellency Harvey Weinstein, resigning myself to never working in this town again. Questions addressed include: Which scenes are actually dreams? How old is Amy Adams? Why does Hoffman sing that song to Phoenix at the end? Bottom line, your desire to listen to this commentary track is an intergalactic implant from millions of years ago... Let's have some fun.

To sync up with the commentary, cue up to the start of the movie. Then, hit "pause" just as The Weinstein Company logo fades completely to black, and hit "play" again on my countdown.  


Listen to the mp3. Or get it from those pig fuckers over at iTunes.

A Few Good Men (1992) Audio Commentary

A girl named Jo is not as weird as a girl named Demi

RC-2013-102: A Few Good Men (1992)



Dipping into the requests pile (thanks Jeremy), I take on the 1992 Rob Reiner blockbuster A Few Good Men. During the film, I sing the praises of glorious genre of the courtroom drama, comparing Reiner's movie to other specimes like The Caine Mutiny and Anatomy of a Murder, as well as well-structured courtroom comedies like Liar Liar and My Cousin Vinny. Additionally, I riff on the formidable dramatic skills of Kevin Pollak and wade far out of my depth by opining on the differences between civilian and military courts. After ignorantly critiquing the lawyer's legal strategy, I explain my beef with the film's climax and the way Sorkin, who was pretty green as a screenwriter then, sets it up. Even if you hate me and hate everything I say in this commentary, I think you should still give me credit for being the only person on Earth to sit through A Few Good Men without doing a douche-y Jack Nicholson impression.


Listen to the mp3. Salute your iTunes shorts.