The daily digest of Twin Cities culture | Secrets of the City

For some reason, it's very hard to represent nerds onscreen. Movies keep trying it, but, for whatever reason, they seem to end up with endless variations of the characters from Revenge of the Nerds, with their thick glasses, pocket protectors, questionable hygiene, and adenoidal voices.

There have been quite a few marginal film genres that have unexpectedly changed themselves into art. The Western, for instance, which kicked around the trenches of Hollywood for a long time as a reliable but poorly regarded genre, and then, suddenly, grew up, transforming from simplistic morality tales set on horseback to a mature and unblinking look at the mythology of the creation of the United States.

Darren Aronofsky's film The Wrestler, which netted Mickey Rourke a Golden Globe for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture last night, is not the first movie to have that title. Back in 1974, here in Minneapolis, American Wrestling Association owner Verne Gagne produced his own movie, inspired by his own status us the AWA's undefeatable champion, starring himself and Ed Asner as a wrestling promoter.

I don't think anyone is ever going to mistake My Name is Bruce for a good film, but that's rather beside the point. Bruce Campbell, the film's director and star (with the help of screenwriter Mark Verheiden), has made a film celebrating bad films. More than that, he has made an affectionate ode to fans of schlocky, straight-to-video sci-fi and horror genre films. And, to a very large extent, he has made a love letter to his own fans.

There's a certain tragedy to Sean Penn. He's a smart guy and a first-rate actor, and it is obvious that he wants to make serious, contemplative, adult movies about people who look very grim and shout sometimes and have done terrible things that haunt them. He favors these films as an actor, and he's carved out an unpopular niche for himself making these movies as a writer and director. He does them competently, and, I suppose, for people who enjoy being depressed for a while, they can always count on him to make their lives miserable for a few hours in a darkened theater.

"A film can only be interesting if it's rooted in reality in some way, things can only be funny if they're rooted in reality, and they can only be tragic if they're rooted in reality." -Mike Leigh

I am a gearhead, or as they say across the pond, a "petrolhead." While this ostensibly disqualifies me from writing a movie review, my British friends think otherwise. Particularly if I am writing about British films.

The Mighty Ducks trilogy is easily the best movie franchise ever to come out of Minnesota (as far as I know). Still, I take issue with a few things in the movies. Specifically, twelve things.

I finally saw Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood last week. I was impressed, but the twelve others in the audience didn't seem to digest it as well. Several left during the less exciting last hour of the film. Others derisively asked "whose idea was it to see this movie?" as they were leaving. It is a divisive movie to be sure, not unlike No Country For Old Men, but it is one with such a beautiful cinematic power