Begorrah!

Film: The Quiet Man
Format: DVD from DeKalb Public Library on kick-ass portable DVD player.

Yesterday was Christmas, and in addition to a few new ties, some kitchen gadgets, and some gift cards, I got a portable DVD player. This means that when I drive my daughter to dance class, I can watch a film while I’m waiting for class to end, and can bring the light and streamlined player instead of my laptop. Bonus, bitches!

The inaugural film is John Ford’s The Quiet Man. Why that film? Because I have it checked out from the library and it needs to go back soon. Additionally, because I looked at the titles I checked out and discovered depressing, depressing, depressing...and this one. Hey’ it was Christmas when I watched, so we’re not doing depressing. We can do that later in the week, but I wasn’t going for existential drama on Christmas.

To start our film, an American named Sean Thornton (John Wayne) shows up in rural Ireland and asks the way to Innisfree. While a gaggle of locals squabble about the best way to get there, a little man named Michaleen (Barry Fitzgerald) grabs Thornton’s bags and the two head to town. Curious as to why an American would want to come to this backwater, and want to buy a house, Thornton reveals his identity—he was born here and his family moved away years ago. He’s returned to claim his family land. Michaeleen remembers him.

This land is owned by (and I’m capping all of the words in this name, because that’s how it’s said throughout the film) The Widow Sarah Tillane. Thornton arranges to buy the land from her in a bidding war with the proud and pugnacious “Red” Will Danaher (Victor McLaglen). Danaher wants the land to add to his holdings, and because it will give him a better connection to Sarah. She happens to be in his age range and wealthy beyond measure, and Will Danaher wants to go a’courting. Now Danaher is forever angry at the Yank and forbids Thornton from courting Mary Kate (Maureen O’Hara), Danaher’s sister. Since Michaleen is the matchmaker, this creates a problem and a conspiracy is created.

So now, Michaleen, Catholic priest Father Lonergan (Ward Bond, who also serves as the film’s narrator), and Protestant minister Reverend Playfair (Arthur Shields), and Playfair’s wife (Eileen Crowe) conspire to trick Danaher. They convince him that Sarah Tillane shows no interest in him because of his sister’s presence in his house. He allows Thornton to pay court, the two are married, and it would seem that all is well.

But it isn’t. He becomes aware of the trick and keeps Mary Kate’s dowry. Sean doesn’t care about the dowry, but she does—to the point of refusing “wifely duties” until she gets her things and her own money. Danaher refuses to pay without a fight—a literal fight—with Thornton. It is here that we learn of the past that made Thornton seek the peace of the Irish countryside. In his former life, he was a boxer known as Trooper Thorn. In his last fight, he killed a man in the ring, and now refuses to strike another man in anger. So the countryside (except for Playfair) now believes him a coward, and Mary Kate can’t stay with a man she believes incapable of fighting for her honor. But, since this is a romance that plays like a romantic comedy, it will all turn out right in the end.

It’s a pretty good set up. It’s also very much the product of its time. I can imagine there are plenty of people who love this movie who would simultaneously be shocked and scandalized if a film with essentially this same plot were to be contemplated today. Women in this film are prizes to be battled for, and belong in the home. Men are hulking thugs looking for an opportunity to get piss-drunk and pound the snot out of each other. A real man swings a fist. Hell, Danaher actually keeps a book of enemies and writes names down in it when someone crosses him.

That, more than anything, is what I have trouble with here. Mary Kate Danaher thinks of nothing but money. In a simpler time, a character like this was called “headstrong” in the movie flack, but what she really is is just bitchy. There is unquestionably value in knowing what you want and fighting for it, but she is obsessed with getting her “fortune” no matter the personal cost to her or the man she claims to love. I realize that culturally, this is what she was brought up to believe, but when Sean Thornton delivers the film’s most famous line (“There’ll be no locks or bolts between us, Mary Kate, except for those in your own mercenary little heart!”), he’s saying it with a lot of justification. When she confesses to Father Lonergan the reality of her marriage—that Sean sleeps in a sleeping bag on the floor because she has refused him the bed—he brings down fire and brimstone like nobody’s business, shaming her terribly, and changing nothing. Evidently, her fortune trumps the fires of Hell.

Beyond this, the Irish countryside is something special to see. The film is gorgeous, no less so than films like The Lord of the Rings that make the audience gasp a bit to see the beauty of the landscape. Maureen O’Hara is fiery and gorgeous as well—she’d be worth a fistfight or two even if she is a beard and a leprechaun hat away from being the pugnacious mascot of Notre Dame.

Many people claim that this is Wayne’s best film. I’m not so sure of that in a career that included films like The Searchers and Stagecoach. It’s a film to show someone who claims that John Wayne couldn’t act, though, or that all he could play was a Western hero or a military hero. Certainly there’s a macho quality to the character of Sean Thornton, a former boxer, but he’s also just a man looking to live a peaceful life. This film is proof that he could do more than just play John Wayne.

Why to watch The Quiet Man: The beauty of Ireland, including Maureen O’Hara.
Why not to watch: It hits on every Irish stereotype you can think of.

Merry Christmas to Hollywood

My plan yesterday was to watch a couple of holiday classics with my kids, but the day got away from us. Ultimately, we decided that we'd rather go to a candlelit church service than watch a movie, sacrilege of one sort to prevent sacrilege of another.

Today, I thought I'd revive something I did last year. Periodically over the last 12 months, I'd jot down a note to myself of a film that I thought belonged on the list that wasn't on it. Last year, I came up with 25 films that should be in the 1001 Movies list. This year, I'm limiting myself to nominating 10 films that should be added to future editions. While I'd love to repeat from last year, I won't; these 10 are ones I didn't suggest 12 months ago. Presented in no order...

10 movies that should be added to the 1001 Movies list

1. Amelie: I'm cheating a little here because Amelie was on the list and was removed this year. I find that decision depressing. There are so many lesser movies still on the list, and Amelie is a really special film. Put it back on.

2. Jason and the Argonauts: There are plenty of movies on the list that are there specifically because of their special effects. Ray Harryhausen was and should be a Hollywood icon no less revered than Cary Grant, Alfred Hitchcock, or Audrey Hepburn. This is his best work. It deserves to be seen, remembered, and cherished.

3. Wait Until Dark: This is without question one of the scariest movies ever made, and there's not a touch of the supernatural in it. The ending is one of the greats in Hollywood history. So why the snub?

4. The Prisoner: There's precedent for made-for-television films on the list like Riget and Dekalog. So is that reserved only for television made for non-English speaking countries? The Prisoner is arguably the most ambitious television production ever made. The whole series is worth watching.

5. Thriller: Yes, Thriller. Again, there is precedent for short films, and Thriller changed the music video game.

6. Either Chicken Run or Wallace and Grommit in The Wrong Trousers: As with special effects, there is some effort on the list to include a variety of animation styles, and no one has ever done claymation like Aardman Studios. Either of these would be an excellent and worthwhile choice.

7. Quadrophenia: The best example of a rock musical, including Pink Floyd's The Wall. This film is an excellent and compelling coming-of-age story and has a fantastic soundtrack to boot. Plus it's got Sting before anyone really knew who he was.

8. Talk Radio: I'm not a big Oliver Stone/conspiracy guy, but it occurs to me that Talk Radio gets more and more relevant every year. Show this film to a political polemicist in your life and see the reaction. I'd rather watch this than most of Stone's other films.

9. The Grifters: I don't know how this was left off. John Cusack grew up in this film and proved he could act. This is a gripping and involved tale all the way through with one of the greatest endings ever pulled. The first time I watched it, it took me five minutes to reel my jaw back in. Masterful.

and finally,

10. Iron Man: There has been a resurgence of superhero movies in the last few years, and Iron Man represents the best of them. It's fun, exciting, and intelligently made, and features a real, flawed human being at its center. Plus, there's lots of stuff blowing up.

There were others on my list. I guess that means I've got the start of a list for next year.

Musicals with a Twist

Films: Les Parapluies de Cherbourg (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg), Dancer in the Dark
Format: DVD from Rockford Public Library (Umbrellas), VHS from DeKalb Public Library (Dancer), both on big ol’ television.

Before I get too involved here, I want to preface this with the part of this movie that still makes my head spin a little bit. Our two main characters here are Guy (pronounced “Gee” with a hard g”) and Genevieve (pronounced “Zhaun-vee-EV”). While not particularly uncommon names in France, these are not names we hear much in the States. Nonetheless, my wife’s parents also happened to be named Guy and Genevieve, albeit pronounced in the American fashion.

In musicals, typically the characters break out into song at specific times, and it’s never that hard to tell when a song is coming. The music swells a little, the people stand up a little straighter to get their breathing right, and all conversation stops. This is not the case with Les Parapluies de Cherbourg (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg). The reason for that is that every single line of dialogue in this movie is sung. There is no speech; there is only music and lyrics. This is jarring at first, especially with the subtitles on, as it quickly becomes apparent that, like everyday life, most of the lyrics are pretty banal. People ask for their car to be filled with gas, buy umbrellas, and talk about what they want for dinner. They just do it as a song. There’s no effort toward rhyme, no effort to produce a chorus.

This is an important distinction. While all of the dialogue is sung, it is actual dialogue. These aren’t songs. There’s no reprise except at times in the music. There aren’t frequently repeated lines or recognizable stanzas. A given speech is as long as it normally would be—there’s no effort put into characters having their dialogue of a certain length or set to a specific meter. Essentially, it’s a regular movie, except that the music is constant and everybody sings all the time. The next time you speak with a co-worker, imagine singing your conversation. SomeTIMES you might EMphasize words, speeduptosticktothemeter and then gooooo slooooooooooooow. It’s like that.

Genevieve (Catherine Deneuve) lives and works with her mother Madame Emery (Anne Vernon) in her mother’s umbrella shop, called “Les Parapluies de Cherbourg,” hence the name of the film. Genevieve is in love with Guy (Nino Castelnuovo), who works as a mechanic. Her mother stands against the union for several reasons. For one thing, Genevieve is only 17 and Guy is just 20. Additionally, she has had a note for 80,000 francs come due, and if she can’t pay, she’ll lose the shop. Genevieve doesn’t care—she loves Guy and wants to marry him, and he wants to marry her. Guy lives with his godmother Elise (Mireille Perrey), who is taken care of by Madeleine (Ellen Farner). It’s evident that while Guy loves Genevieve, Madeleine has a little crush on Guy.

To save the shop, Genevieve convinces her mother to part with some of her jewelry. The jeweler can’t buy her necklace, but a diamond merchant named Roland Cassard (Marc Michel) offers to take the necklace and sell it on her behalf. There are a few tense days as they wait for the money, and Genevieve goes off to spend time with Guy. As it happens, he’s gotten his draft notice and will have to spend two years in Algiers. The two spend a night of passion together and he leaves. Meanwhile, Cassard returns with the proceeds from the necklace and shows interest in Genevieve.

Naturally, that night of passion results in pregnancy. Cassard continues to press his suit for Genevieve despite the fact that she is carrying another man’s baby. Guy writes infrequently, and eventually, feeling abandoned by him, Genevieve agrees to marry Cassard, and starts a new life with him.

Two years later, Guy returns to Cherbourg. He quits his job almost immediately, and just as suddenly, Elise dies. Now missing the two most important women in his life, unable to marry Genevieve, he realizes how much he likes Madeleine, and after a courtship, they marry and have a son. Guy uses his inheritance to purchase his own service station. It is in that role that he is working when Genevieve returns to Cherbourg with her daughter…who is also his daughter.

Here’s the thing—the story here is one that has been told and retold a number of times, but there is a significant difference with this telling. However, this difference is best put in a spoiler.

*** THE SPOILERS OF THIS BLOG ***

They recognize each other right away of course, and Guy invites Genevieve into his office. She asks him if he would like to meet his daughter, and he declines, telling her that she should leave. As she drives away, Madeleine and their son arrive, and he plays with his son in the fresh snowfall outside.

Here’s why I appreciate this: The typical romantic movie would have these two run off together, or at least be really tempted to rekindle their romance. It’s evident that there’s some desire on both of their parts right away, but that this desire is greatly subdued by the reality of their lives. It’s not evident that Genevieve is happy or unhappy, but she doesn’t press the point, or ask Guy to run away with her. Guy’s life with Madeleine is evidently satisfying enough that he’s not really tempted in the first place. This is a real decision from real people who live in the real world.

*** THE UMBRELLA IS CLOSED ***

In a typical musical, we’d find quickly that Cassard is a bastard and that Madeleine is a shrew. In this case, Cassard is actually a very nice guy and Madeleine is quite sweet. They’re nice people—they just aren’t the people Guy and Genevieve originally fell in love with.

There’s an initial shock to this film once everyone starts singing, and a second shock once it’s realized just how banal most of the dialogue is. But this passes. The movie is completely internally consistent, and most musicals are not. I rather liked it. Surprise, surprise. I’ll say this, though: now that I’ve seen it and know the story, I’d rather watch it without the subtitles so I’m not constantly reminded of the rather pedestrian nature of the lyrics.

Dancer in the Dark is a completely different take on musicals—different in many ways from the standard and also different from Les Parapluies de Cherbourg. For starters, the first musical number doesn’t appear for the first 40 minutes or so of the film. Selma Jezkova (Bjork) is a Czech immigrant who has moved to Washington State to create a better life for her son. Specifically, she has inherited a genetic disorder that has been slowly ruining her vision, and the condition is progressing. She works at a local factory, and she and her son scrimp as much as possible. She tells him it is because they are so poor, but in reality, she is saving for an operation that will prevent the condition that is blinding her from doing the same thing to her son (Vladica Kostic).

Selma is also enamored of musicals, and participates in amateur theater. Since her eyesight is disintegrating, she is taken back and forth to rehearsals by Kathy (Catherine Deneuve). Selma and her son live in a trailer on the property of Bill (David Morse) and his wife (Cara Seymour). We learn quickly that Bill has inherited a great deal of money, but the money has run out. Debts are coming due, his wife is a spendthrift, and he can’t bear to tell her that they are broke.

He tells this to Selma, and she tells him about her eye condition and the money she is saving for her son’s procedure. Her eyes have gotten so bad, though, that he feigns leaving the room to discover where she keeps the money. When Selma’s eyes have gotten to the point where she can no longer work, she discovers that the money has been stolen. She confronts Bill, who has told his wife that Selma attempted to seduce him. A confrontation happens, and ultimately, Selma kills Bill to get her money back. She is promptly arrested and sentenced to hang.

Along the way, we encounter a cast of excellent character actors including Peter Stormare as Jeff, Selma’s potential love interest; Lars von Trier favorite Udo Kier as a doctor; Siobhan Fallon as a prison guard; Joel Grey as an aging former tap dance star; and Zeljko Ivanek as a prosecuting attorney.

Where the film is surprising is in the musical numbers. Selma is entranced by old movie musicals, and frequently fantasizes about them. Any rhythmic noise, like the machines in the factory in which she works, becomes the background for substantial musical numbers that include anyone who happens to be in the area. These are elaborate and fascinating, and evidently take place entirely in her mind, because when the musical numbers end, no time has passed.

For me, someone who tends to have a problem with musicals, strangely enough, it’s the musical numbers here that make the film work. They make perfect sense to me in the context of this film because they are all fantasies in the mind of Selma. In her musical world, she says, “nothing dreadful ever happens.” After she kills Bill, for instance, a musical number begins in which Bill is alive again and participates, his wife is happy to see Selma and helps her escape, and life is as good as it ever gets.

Of course, nothing good happens here. That’s sort of the point.

I can’t say I enjoyed watching Dancer in the Dark, but I can say that it is very well made and that I’m glad I watched it. With the number of musicals I have enjoyed so far this year, it appears that I can no longer say that I dislike them as a general rule.

It's worth adding this as well: it may very well be that admitting to liking Bjork's music is akin to admitting enjoying Michael Bolton, Celine Dion, or Zamphir, but I'll make the admission. I don't own anything by Bjork, but I've never heard a song of hers on the radio and rushed to turn it off the way I do with most of the garbage my 12-year-old favors. Her odd musical style, rhythmic sense, and phrasings work in this film--the "I've Seen it All" number on the train is one of the best musical numbers I've ever seen in a film, and much of the reason for that is Bjork.

Okay, she's weird. However, if you have children between the ages of five and nine and ever sat with them through an episode of LazyTown on Nickjr., you know that she is not the strangest thing to come from Iceland.

Why to watch Les Parapluies de Cherbourg: A very different sort of musical.
Why not to watch: Remember how much Cop Rock sucked?

Why to watch Dancer in the Dark : The most original take on musicals in a couple of decades.
Why not to watch: The events are inevitable, terrible, and painful to watch.

Unintelligible Crime

Film: Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
Format: Streaming video from NetFlix on laptop.


So here I am, stuck in a motel for the night with nothing to do. I considered watching The Shining but decided that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to watch a film where a guy goes crazy while snowed in at a hotel while I am spending a night at a motel because of the snow. Too close for comfort. Instead, I’m relishing in the joy of the resurgence of the British crime comedy with Guy Ritchie’s Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.

Prior to this, my exposure to Guy Ritchie is Snatch, which a part of me thinks should be on this list. The two movies are similar in a lot of ways. Ritchie’s films, at least as concerns my experience with them, include a lot of seemingly unrelated plots coming together in one place, sudden violence a la film noir, extensive and creative use of expletives, and shady underworld characters with great names. In this case, we have Hatchet Harry (P.H. Moriarty), who is both a porn king and the man in charge of a crooked card game designed to pour additional funds into his pocket.

Wandering into this crooked game is Eddy (Nick Moran), a born card player and the sucker of the moment. Hatchet Harry’s game is accessible only to those who can ratchet up the entrance purse of 100,000 pounds. Eddy does so by being funded in part by his three friends Tom (Jason Flemyng), Soap (Dexter Fletcher, called “Soap” because he has a legitimate job and likes to avoid criminal pursuits), and Bacon (Jason Statham).

Of course, since Eddy is in a crooked card game, he loses, and he loses big. Now he and his friends owe a massive amount of money to Hatchet Harry and his associates, Barry the Baptist (Lenny McLean, and called “the Baptist” because of his penchant for drowning his victims) and Big Chris (Vinnie Jones) and have just a week to pay them back. Meanwhile, a couple of low rent thieves are sent by Barry to heist some extremely valuable antique shotguns from a down-on-his-luck Lord. We also have a collection of bombed out pot growers and a collection of thugs who like to rob drug pushers. This group is led by Dog (Frank Harper) who, like many of the characters in this film and in Guy Ritchie films in general, is crazy, focused almost exclusively on causing pain in others, and has a nasty reputation.

So how do these plots come together? The four card playing losers end up purchasing the two valuable shotguns by way of a fence and the thieves, who know no better. Now, the four buddies need to pull heists to come up with the money to save their skins, the thieves need to get the guns back to save theirs, and everyone is looking for everyone else. To get the money, they’re going to rob the thugs, who happen to live next door to Eddy, using the antique shotguns that were originally stolen at the behest of Harry the Hatchet. Eddy’s dad (Sting) gets involved because as part of the debt, Harry wants his bar. Guns and expletives fly, and ultimately, no matter who comes out on top, it’s going to be someone on the wrong side of the law.

Our four heroes line up a deal with Nick the Greek (Stephen Marcus) to unload any marijuana they get in their heist of the thieves, and Nick arranges to sell the weed to Rory Breaker (Vas Blackwood), not knowing that the growers are actually working for him, and he’ll be buying back his own product. That’s not going to go well, because in addition to being a drug lord, Rory Breaker is also a sociopath. How do we know Rory is a sociopath? Well, when Eddy goes to the card game, the other three guys hang out at a nearby pub, and are greeted on arrival by a guy running out of the pub covered in flames. After we are formally introduced to Rory, we hear the story of exactly how that guy got lit up in the first place, complete with subtitles since it’s told in British criminal rhyming slang.

Ultimately, everybody is looking for everybody else, the money and drugs change hands time and time again, the body count (and f-bomb count) rises continuously, and the fate of Eddy, Tom, Soap, and Bacon comes down to the value of the two shotguns.

Is it complicated? Of course it is. That’s part of the fun here. All of the plots tumble into each other in interesting ways, and you can bet that any time someone new shows up, he will eventually be a part of the main action, even if the connection appears to be tangential. After all, all of these characters are essentially stealing from each other, chasing each other, owe each other money, or want to kill each other. Sometimes, all of that at once.

The real difficulty, though, is following the dialogue. As an American, I can pick up on some of the stranger accents in the Americas because I’m used to hearing them now and again. In this film, many of the characters have such a thick regional British patois that subtitles would have been helpful for more than just the criminal slang. (It’s worth noting that this was one of the bigger criticisms of the film, and Ritchie responded in Snatch by giving the Brad Pitt character a completely unintelligible speech pattern.)

The joy of a film like this is seeing the plot wound into a Gordian knot and then seeing it all come unraveled. Like the knot of legend, the only way to get everything untied in the end is by cutting it in half, which means a lot of guns are going to get fired and a lot of people are going to end up as bodies. And that’s part of the fun, too, because almost all of these people really deserve that fate. Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels is not something I’d put in front of my kids, but there’s a particular charm to British gangland thugs, pushers, and mobsters. It’s a particular brand of cold-blooded viciousness that, as a member of the audience, makes me break into a broad grin. It’s just so damned British that I can’t help but like it.

Why to watch Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels: Modern British crime comedy as good as it gets.
Why not to watch: Don’t be surprised if you resort to subtitles.

Marriage Before and After

Films: Kramer vs. Kramer, The Hangover
Format: Streaming video from NetFlix on laptop (Kramer), DVD from NetFlix on big ol’ television (Hangover).


Around the time my parents were divorced, my sister said something to the effect that no matter how old you are, you’re essentially two years old when your parents split. That’s pretty accurate. It’s also the subject of Kramer vs. Kramer, which means it’s the happiest damn movie I’ve seen in a long time. Yes, that’s sarcasm.

We start with Ted Kramer (Dustin Hoffman), who works for a high profile advertising agency. Because of his hard work and skill, he’s landed a massive account and is on the fast track. He goes home to share the good news with his wife Joanna (Meryl Streep) and their son Billy (Justin Henry). He’s greeted with some bad news, though: Joanna is leaving him, and she does so, leaving their son as well.

This creates a huge problem for the fast-track Ted, since he now has a young child to deal with on his own. Like a typical late-‘70s father, he’s not really aware of how to care for his son. He muddles through the best he can, but this also creates a number of problems for him at work. His attention to detail begins to slip. Ted begins to draw a little closer to his divorced neighbor Margaret (Jane Alexander), has a one night stand with a coworker (JoBeth Williams), and starts to figure out how to be a father to his son.

That’s too easy, though. Joanna returns from her soul-searching sojourn in California and decides she wants custody of Billy. Ted decides to fight it regardless of consequence. The first consequence turns out to be his job, which of course is to his detriment when it comes to the court battle.

I’m not going to spoil this movie, so I’m going to leave the results of that trial out of this write up. I’m also to leave out the actual ending, which is sweet, touching, and completely unrealistic. We’re not going to go there.

There are a couple of parts of this movie I do want to talk about, though. First, I want to go into the relationship between Ted and Billy. I was impressed mainly with how real the relationship came across. This was a real father and son doing real father and son things, having real father and son troubles. There’s joy when Ted teaches Billy how to ride a bike. Ted is excited to see his son ride off, and then shouts after him not to go too far. The Salisbury steak scene, where Billy decides he’s tired of TV dinners and instead grabs the ice cream from the freezer, leading to a huge fight is also very real. I don’t have sons; I have daughters. Still, these scenes felt completely genuine to me, and I bought them completely.

The film lives and dies in the courtroom, though, and these scenes are very hard to watch. Both Joanna and Ted are destroyed on the stand by each other’s lawyers. It’s painful to see, and much more painful to watch Ted go through it, because by the time we get to the actual custody hearing, we’ve spent so much time with Ted and watched his relationship with his son grow that we want him to come out on top. Everything is brought up—Ted losing his job despite the fact that he did so because of his son; the accident at the playground that gave Billy stitches comes out, too. It’s painful to witness.

This is not a film designed to give any sort of sympathy for the women in this position. We’re supposed to like Ted and see that he has become a real father. We’re supposed to see Joanna as a cruel, selfish, manipulative bitch. In part, we do see that because that’s the character. We also see that, though, because by the time she shows back up in the film, we’re looking at everything from Ted’s point of view.

I know the film is manipulating me and I don’t really care. It works. It absolutely goes right for the gut and it scores, and it does this even while I realize what it’s doing. I can no more stop myself from caring about this guy and his kid than I can stop myself from breathing.

The big problem? The ending ruins everything the film tries to build up. After a whole film of what we get here, to have that ending and coda is a slap in the face to the audience. Shame on the filmmakers.

If Kramer vs. Kramer is the story of the end of a marriage and the aftermath, The Hangover is the story of the beginnings of a marriage. Sort of. In reality, The Hangover is about an aftermath as well, in this case, the aftermath of an epic bachelor party in Las Vegas. This is all well and good, but there's a touch of resentment on my part. The Hangover is one of the new additions to the book, and one of the movies kicked out is Amelie. That's not right.

Doug Billings (Justin Bartha) is getting married. Before he does, his two best friends, school teacher Phil (Bradley Cooper) and dentist Stu (Ed Helms) as well as his fiancée’s socially backward and inappropriate brother Alan (Zach Galifianakis) are taking him to Vegas for a last night of partying and freedom. We discover that Doug is a decent guy, Alan is disturbing (but funny) and may have a seriously checkered past, Stu is completely under the thumb of his testicle shrinking girlfriend, and Phil pretty much despises his life. The four check in to Caesar’s Palace and sneak up to the roof for a toast before hitting the town.

What wasn’t planned was the additional ingredient in their drinks. Alan bought what he thought were tabs of Ecstasy and slipped them into everyone’s drinks. Instead, he spiked everyone’s drinks with roofies, and now no one has any memory of the bachelor party. That’s bad enough, but when the group wakes up, they discover a number of even more troubling developments. There are chickens in their suite, there’s a live, full-grown tiger in their bathroom, Stu is missing a tooth and the ring he was planning on using to propose to his evil girlfriend, Phil has a hospital bracelet on one wrist, they've stolen a police car, and there’s an infant tucked away in one of the rooms. Oh, and Doug is missing.

The rest of the film consists of the three guys backtracking through what they can discover to figure out what they did, where they went, what happened to them, and the location of Doug. Of course, since this is a comedy, things get far, far worse before they get better. The group discovers in short order that Stu married a prostitute named Jade (Heather Graham), the tiger was stolen from Mike Tyson’s house (Tyson makes a funny cameo as well), and that there is a naked, effeminate, Chinese mafia type (Ken Jeong, who is staggeringly funny) in the trunk of their car, who claims to have Doug in his possession and wants the $80,000 the group stole from him.

Of course, this is a comedy, so everything is going to turn out fine in the end. It’s the getting there that makes the film worth watching. The characters, for the most part, are caricatures, of course. Phil is far too smooth in the face of all of the problems to be a school teacher, and Alan is far too much of an idiot to be anything other than a film character. Ed Helms, though, as Stu really sells this for me. He’s funny, panicky, and has extreme mood swings that strike a needed note of realism. He reacts to all of this in the way most of us would.

This movie is funny. I can’t deny that. It’s also crude, disturbing, and isn’t going to be a film I enjoy watching around my parents or my children any time in the next, say, 60 years. Don’t take that to be an insult, though—this film really is funny all the way through. It’s screwball comedy taken to a strip club, and that’s okay. After all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

Why to watch Kramer vs. Kramer: A lesson in the real victims of divorce.
Why not to watch: The ending undoes the entire movie.

Why to watch The Hangover: It's brutally funny.
Why not to watch: Amelie got taken out of the book for this.

What Tarantino Dreams of

Film: Kill Bill: Vol. 1
Format: DVD from Rockford Public Library on big ol’ television.


Quentin Tarantino tends to provoke two reactions: unbridled adulation or equally unbridled disdain. Strangely, I fall somewhere in the middle. I appreciate some of his films. When Pulp Fiction was shiny and new, I loved it, although I love it less now. Reservoir Dogs is still one of the best films of its decade. But I soured on Mr. Tarantino, in no small part because it seemed like he made a huge name for himself and then did nothing as a director for years. Kill Bill: Vol. 1 is his fourth complete film, made 11 years after his first full-length feature.

In short, while I think the man had and possibly still has some real chops (I’ve yet to see Inglourious Basterds, his fourth film on the list along with the other three mentioned), it seems to me that he believes his own press. One of the reasons I like his first two films as much as I do is because he’s obviously a smart guy who can make reference to film culture both well-known and obscure. I appreciate that. However, it seems also that he can’t not make reference to such things and enjoys showing his audience exactly how much he knows all the time. Characters in his films are hyper-aware of pieces of pop culture—a band, a film, a whatever—and this seems to be to make us as audience aware that Tarantino knows all about those bits of pop culture. He’s often in love with his dialogue to the detriment of his films. That’s my opinion, of course.

Until tonight, I’ve avoided Kill Bill: Vol. 1 for the simple reason that I didn’t want to spend two hours watching what looked to be Quentin Tarantino’s masturbation fantasies. Again, my opinion. And really, what do I know? After all, he’s the one making movies and I’m the one teaching English.

Kill Bill: Vol. 1 is a revenge picture, pure and simple. We open with a fight between a character known only as The Bride (Uma Thurman…and the character’s real name is evidently revealed in the second film as Beatrix Kiddo. If you look quickly and carefully, though, you can see it on her plane tickets a couple of times) and a woman named Vernita Green (Vivica A. Fox). They destroy the hell out of Vernita’s house until her daughter comes home, and then the two talk civilly, planning a fight for later that evening. When Vernita goes for the double-cross and tries to take out the Bride with a gun, she ends up dead. The Bride leaves, crossing a name off the list, and we can see that she’s already scratched off the name O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu).

The rest of the film to the very end is told in flashback. We start with where the revenge starts—the Bride is known by this name because she was attacked by a collection of assassins on her wedding day. The entire wedding party, as well as her unborn child, were killed. It’s also made evident that the Bride was once a member of this group, led by the Bill (David Carradine, who does not appear in the flesh aside from his hands in this film) of the title.

The Bride is comatose for four years, during which she is evidently repeatedly raped by a sadistic hospital worker, who also sells out her services. We discover this when she comes to just before another rape and annihilates the rapist as well as the hospital worker. While she’s working on getting her legs to function again, she relates the story of O-Ren’s rise to power in the Tokyo underworld. And then we get the story of her getting a kick-ass sword from a retired swordmaker (Sonny Chiba) and the giant battle scene against O-Ren and her minions including schoolgirl assassin Gogo Yubari. And the rest of the story presumably happens in the second film, which I did not watch.

Kill Bill is all about spurting blood, violent death, and 1970’s-style wire work. It’s as much a modern action/revenge movie as it is an homage to the Shaw Brothers films and the martial arts classics of that era. This is undoubtedly intentional on Tarantino’s part. Averaged out, there’s a dead body for almost every minute of the film here. Blood sprays in geysers from severed limbs and heads, fountaining as if arteries were high-pressure hoses. The giant battle takes place mainly in black and white, apparently in homage to the old martial arts flicks that did it to avoid television censorship. That which isn’t in black and white is in monochromatic blue and shown in shadow pantomime.

It’s extreme. I’ve never let a bit of gore or a good bloodletting stop me from liking a film, but this was simply too damn much. I fully understand why people like this movie, why people look at this as a continuation of Tarantino’s promise. I demur. It’s too much, too extreme.

Again, in a Tarantino film, there are no innocents. The Bride can’t wake up from her coma and escape the hospital—it has to happen as a part of a rape scene that we as viewers are led to believe has happened over and over in the four years she has been comatose. That’s the sort of thing that makes me wonder where Tarantino’s head is at. Why the hell was that necessary? To show that the Bride can kick ass? We already know that from the opening sequence. To up the revenge? Also not really necessary. To add another layer of depravity in the film and show us again that Tarantino has a thing for female characters who can kick his ass? Yep.

I know I’m in the minority here, but so much of the violence here seems to be nothing but violence for its own sake. It does nothing for me. Will I watch the sequel? Probably not.

*EDIT*
Thanks to some excellent comments and a little more thought, I've finally come up with the way to describe this film: it's like a video game. "Soulless" is a great description (thanks, fellow 1001 blogger Edward Boe for that observation). The film reads like nothing so much as a stream of combats in an effort to get to the boss fight. This may be the reason the film is so popular and highly regarded.

I worked in the video game industry for about 12 years, first as a journalist and then as a hint book author. I haven't played a video game in seven years because I burned out and burned out hard. This may well be the reason this film holds no magic for me.

Why to watch Kill Bill Vol. 1: Ass-kicking on the grandest scale.
Why not to watch: Violence for the sake of violence on the grandest scale.

Gotta Dance

Film: Singin’ in the Rain
Format: DVD from Rasmussen College Library on middlin’-sized living room television.


When the conversation turns to great movies, as with “The List,” there’s often (or at least should be) an effort made to hit every genre of film. I know far too many people who hate a particular genre and write off everything from that genre regardless of quality. I try very hard not to do that. I admit that even some of the best musicals pass over my head, but I do try to be aware of what makes a great one, and what separates the great from the good and the mediocre.

This makes Singin’ in the Rain a dodgy proposition for someone like me, who does have a bias against musicals. Further, this is a film that is steeped in the tradition of musicals that irks me. I can willingly suspend my disbelief for any number of strange ideas and plot points. If you tell me that the film takes place in a world with robots and faster-than-light space travel, I’ll buy into it provided that the film itself stays true to that and contains a level of internal reality. Musicals don’t do that. They propose to be the real world, but people break off into orchestrated song and fully-realized and choreographed dance numbers. That doesn’t happen in the real world, and it throws me.

So, a warning: this happens frequently in Singin’ in the Rain. And for once (and for a wonder), I don’t really care that much. This film is simply too damn good. The numbers are great, the dancing is fantastic, and the story is entertaining and fun enough that I can actually ignore the whole “orchestra and choreography” thing that bothers me so much.

We start at a movie premiere of the latest silent film starring Don Lockwood (Gene Kelly) and Lena Lamont (Jean Hagen). We get a short biography of Lockwood and his best friend Cosmo Brown (Donald O’Connor), which covers their misspent youth and early days in Vaudeville, and the wow number “Fit as a Fiddle,” which really is a hell of a dance, and on a real stage would have people in the aisles instead of the poor reception we get here. We also learn of Lockwood’s early film career as a stuntman and his promotion to leading man by studio producer R.F. Simpson (Millard Mitchell).

What we also learn right away is that Lena Lamont has a grating voice and is dumber than a sack of hammers. In Lena’s world, anything the tabloids print is the truth, so when she and her co-star are romantically linked in the movies, they must be romantically linked in real life. Lockwood actually despises her, and becomes enamored of a young actress named Kathy Selden (Debbie Reynolds) when fate brings them together twice, each one getting embarrassed in front of the other.

Everyone’s world changes with the release of The Jazz Singer and the public demand for talkies. The latest Lockwood/Lamont film is turned into a talkie with disastrous results in the test screening. Thinking it over, Don, Cosmo, and Kathy decide that maybe it should play as a musical, with Kathy doing the voice work for Lena. Eventually, Lena finds out and flexes her muscle in the studio, leading to the climax of the film’s debut as a musical picture and a happy ending all around.

The plot is a fun one, but it’s not really the reason to watch this film. The reason to watch is the song and dance numbers, and yes, I feel very strange saying that. The painful (to me) truth is that virtually every number here is one that would be the focus of a lesser film. They’re all great. Whenever I see this film, I’m curious as to why O’Connor isn’t better known than he is, because he tears the hell out of the floor. He manages to keep pace with Kelly in their numbers together, and crushes the “Make ‘em Laugh” number in one of the high points of not just this film, but film.

Of course, the big deal number is the “Gotta Dance” piece toward the end, which is a long dance sequence that is being inserted into the revamped version of the original talkie. Oddly, I find it to be the one that is the least compelling. Sure, the sequence with Cyd Charisse wearing the short green number is great, but the sequence goes on too long for my tastes, and really exists only to give Kelly another number to hoof in. Admittedly, though, he hoofs better than pretty much anyone ever, and he is something magical to watch on the screen.

Kelly is always compelling, and he’s a joy to watch. The thing I have always liked about Gene Kelly is that he could act as well as dance—Inherit the Wind proved that. Donald O’Connor was badly underrated, or isn’t famous enough, or something and makes for great comic relief. Debbie Reynolds earned every role she got after this one with this performance. The unsung hero here, though, is Jean Hagen in the thankless role of a wicked, vindictive idiot. She’s as good as everyone else, even though she doesn’t get to sing or dance.

What can I tell you? I’m a sucker for Gene Kelly (and Fred Astaire—we’ll get to him eventually), and Singin’ in the Rain has everything and more. This is a hell of a picture; even a die-hard musical hater like me walks away from it humming a tune.

Why to watch Singin’ in the Rain: The most flawless musical comedy/dance film ever made.
Why not to watch: Your personal bias won’t let you enjoy it.