Party on, M.
I quote Wayne's World much more than I realized before re-watching this movie. Mike Myers can't help but be hilarious in his winsome, goofball way. The funniest bits weren't the rediculous catch phrases or the storyline aspects - most of those were weak and forced. It was the parts when Wayne was allowed to get carried away with silliness. The Milwaukee bits, the obtuse product placement, basically every time he reacted to something, distracting his girlfriend while she's on the phone with mummy-humping and crossdressing...
That's the Wayne Campbell I wanted to hang out with. I realize he was doing the rocker thing over-the-top on purpose, but Wayne's World is a necessarily gimmicky movie that plays on a lot of low-hanging fruit. Most of that fruit, of course, is considerably more commonly overdone and much less hilarious now, but I felt like a giggling little kid again for about a half hour of its combined one-hundred and seventy-four. The first half isn't very... Erm... Compelling(?) and in the beginning I often wonder why I ever liked this movie, but by the end I'm always won over.
One of the reasons I like Wayne's World is that most of its jokes are immediately appologized for afterward. Mike Myers did not want anyone mad at him, clearly. Like when the boys are hassling a cop, but it quicky turns into chummy guy-time... The spoofy montage about how boring Milwaukee is with a follow-up sarcastic jab to Alice Cooper, quickly followed by a short diatribe about how the town really is more than meets the eye:
Wayne: So, do you come to Milwaukee often? (facetious grin)
Alice Cooper: Well, I'm a regular visitor here, but Milwaukee has certainly had its share of visitors. The French missionaries and explorers began visiting here in the late 16th century.
Pete: Hey, isn't "Milwaukee" an Indian name?
Alice: Yes, Pete, it is. In fact , it's pronounced "mill-e-wah-que" which is Algonquin for "the good land."
Wayne: I was not aware of that.
PS: you can't appear informed, politically correct and enlightened if you're casually referring to First Nation peoples as "Indian".
The funniest thing about Wayne's World is that a lot of metal enthusiasts I've known referred to the movie as being Excellent, loving it to pieces and quoting it often, having no idea that the entire MTV character concept was a complete mockery of the kind of douchebaggery that surrounds the rock scene. When asked to stretch his three minute bit on how useless and empty-headed hardcore rockers tend to be, I think the end result came out as a little more loveable and straightforward than what was originally intended.
Still, the movie is fun and I have fun when I watch it. There's a very Bill and Ted too-stupid-to-hate goodness here that leaves you with the notion that some people are still decent and occasionally the good guys win. It's easy, it's a fun ride, and it brings back memories.
"... Entertaining, whimsical yet relevant, with an underlying revisionist conceit that belied its emotional attachments to the subject matter." - Wayne Campbell
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
M's Musings on WAYNE'S WORLD
Wayne's World. Dir. Penelope Spheeris. Screenplay by Bonnie & Terry Turner and Mike Myers. Based on characters by Mike Myers. Ft. Mike Myers and Dana Carvey. Paramount, 1992.
Party on, T.
I have always wished that I watch SNL. But I really never have. Between that and a childhood void of movies that were rated higher than PG, it is no surprise that this was my first encounter with the WOW (by which I mean World of Wayne... duh!) was this afternoon.
While I wasn't rolling in the aisles at every funny moment, I have to admit, I really enjoyed it. It was constantly appealing to different kinds of humour. In particular, I liked how there was a constant interaction with the camera in a mockumentary that predates The Office or Trailer Park Boys but is concurrent with the rise of the reality tv show (a la The Real World). Wayne & Garth made asides to the audience, and constantly broke the wall that separated the world of the film with the world of the viewer.
When Wayne argues against corporate sell-outs with the extreme product placement (reminded me of 30 Rock), again, the film was being self referential in a way that was clever AND hilarious. The contrivance of the conflict in the movie was stupid. Would two bozos be willing to talk about arcade games in order to continue their show and quit their dead end jobs? Of course. But that really isn't worth watching. Instead, the boys are willing to have corporate sponsors for their FILM, but their characters in the SHOW wouldn't sell out in that way. We were willing to include product placement in our film... but in a film where dudes don't want to sell out... it either needs to be really emphasized or guiltily hidden away. Since it seems far fetched that the two bozos with mullets could convince the world to buy anything... you only have one option. (Side note... the $$$ people made on this film is impressive... its longevity is also impressive what with all the merch, catch phrases, and general stamina this movie has had over the years).
The various times the movie stops and starts again at the end was perfect. How do you keep the film from becoming so cliche that it loses some humour? Layer on some cliches, and offer a choose-your-own-adventure format.
I feel like this movie would be funny if you were feeling like an intellectual snob, or if you just wanted to hear Wayne order the cream of "sum yung guy" and make penis jokes.
Party on, T.
I have always wished that I watch SNL. But I really never have. Between that and a childhood void of movies that were rated higher than PG, it is no surprise that this was my first encounter with the WOW (by which I mean World of Wayne... duh!) was this afternoon.
While I wasn't rolling in the aisles at every funny moment, I have to admit, I really enjoyed it. It was constantly appealing to different kinds of humour. In particular, I liked how there was a constant interaction with the camera in a mockumentary that predates The Office or Trailer Park Boys but is concurrent with the rise of the reality tv show (a la The Real World). Wayne & Garth made asides to the audience, and constantly broke the wall that separated the world of the film with the world of the viewer.
When Wayne argues against corporate sell-outs with the extreme product placement (reminded me of 30 Rock), again, the film was being self referential in a way that was clever AND hilarious. The contrivance of the conflict in the movie was stupid. Would two bozos be willing to talk about arcade games in order to continue their show and quit their dead end jobs? Of course. But that really isn't worth watching. Instead, the boys are willing to have corporate sponsors for their FILM, but their characters in the SHOW wouldn't sell out in that way. We were willing to include product placement in our film... but in a film where dudes don't want to sell out... it either needs to be really emphasized or guiltily hidden away. Since it seems far fetched that the two bozos with mullets could convince the world to buy anything... you only have one option. (Side note... the $$$ people made on this film is impressive... its longevity is also impressive what with all the merch, catch phrases, and general stamina this movie has had over the years).
The various times the movie stops and starts again at the end was perfect. How do you keep the film from becoming so cliche that it loses some humour? Layer on some cliches, and offer a choose-your-own-adventure format.
I feel like this movie would be funny if you were feeling like an intellectual snob, or if you just wanted to hear Wayne order the cream of "sum yung guy" and make penis jokes.
T's Take on Alien
T's Take on Alien
Best
one
ever.
Next movie.
I seriously considered letting that be my review, but I'm sure M will pour more thought and insight into hers, and I fear her wrath.
Alien was my first real, hardcore, balls-out nerdy science fiction movie. It was delivered from my Father's quaking hands and into the VCR with the kind of relish and pride one would feel watching his adolescent son down an adult boar with naught but a sharp stick. I devoured it immediately and rewatched my favorite scenes at length until I had the dialogue memorized and every fleeting glimpse of the Alien itself ingrained in my mind. The pacing, the characterization, the dialogue, the very mythology this groundbreaking movie lays at our collective feet is astonishing to behold. My favorite scenes were never the gruesome or action(ish) bits - they were the underplayed silent portions where characters interacted with this believably big and complex hulk of technology. I could watch the crew groggily amble through hallways absent-mindedly flipping switches and pulling levers to manipulate that oblong spaceship all day.
The normalcy of Alien made it great. The relatability of the maintenance guys rolling their eyes and groaning when asked to do something, or the waves of tension that ripple through all levels of a team when their leader is weak... Company policy and aggravating protocol (which will inevitably be overlooked by employees when left to their own devices) paired with the simplicity of human intellect and the fragile nature of our bodies and minds. Truly, the goal of good science fiction is to point out the similarities between their fictitious circumstances and ours. The juxtaposition between piloting the Nostromo over an uncharted planet in the Whatever sector of blibbity-blah and watching the main characters bitching about shitty food and pay discrepancies in the mess hall is an easy and fun card to play.
I guess the worst part about reviewing movies you already love is finding things to gripe about. I suppose I could have done with more awesome violence. People like the Alien movies because they enjoy watching the perplexing and unique species interacting with people and whatever environment the narrative finds us in. At the same time, we keep coming back because we know so little. I'm content to let this sleeping dog lie. Death by space-creature is awesome.
Watch Alien.
Best
one
ever.
Next movie.
I seriously considered letting that be my review, but I'm sure M will pour more thought and insight into hers, and I fear her wrath.
Alien was my first real, hardcore, balls-out nerdy science fiction movie. It was delivered from my Father's quaking hands and into the VCR with the kind of relish and pride one would feel watching his adolescent son down an adult boar with naught but a sharp stick. I devoured it immediately and rewatched my favorite scenes at length until I had the dialogue memorized and every fleeting glimpse of the Alien itself ingrained in my mind. The pacing, the characterization, the dialogue, the very mythology this groundbreaking movie lays at our collective feet is astonishing to behold. My favorite scenes were never the gruesome or action(ish) bits - they were the underplayed silent portions where characters interacted with this believably big and complex hulk of technology. I could watch the crew groggily amble through hallways absent-mindedly flipping switches and pulling levers to manipulate that oblong spaceship all day.
The normalcy of Alien made it great. The relatability of the maintenance guys rolling their eyes and groaning when asked to do something, or the waves of tension that ripple through all levels of a team when their leader is weak... Company policy and aggravating protocol (which will inevitably be overlooked by employees when left to their own devices) paired with the simplicity of human intellect and the fragile nature of our bodies and minds. Truly, the goal of good science fiction is to point out the similarities between their fictitious circumstances and ours. The juxtaposition between piloting the Nostromo over an uncharted planet in the Whatever sector of blibbity-blah and watching the main characters bitching about shitty food and pay discrepancies in the mess hall is an easy and fun card to play.
I guess the worst part about reviewing movies you already love is finding things to gripe about. I suppose I could have done with more awesome violence. People like the Alien movies because they enjoy watching the perplexing and unique species interacting with people and whatever environment the narrative finds us in. At the same time, we keep coming back because we know so little. I'm content to let this sleeping dog lie. Death by space-creature is awesome.
Watch Alien.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
M's Musings on ALIEN
Alien. Dir. Ridley Scott. Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon. Ft. Sigourney Weaver, Bolaji Badejo, Yaphet Kotto, Tom Skerritt, Veronica Cartwright, Harry Dean Stanton, John Hurt, and Ian Holm. 20th Century Fox, 1979.
**I should clarify that T & I watched the Director's Cut from 2003, which had (apparently) about four minutes of footage that was changed from the original.
A family member once described Sigourney Weaver to me as one of the most beautiful women in the world. When I confessed that I had no idea who she was, I was told she was the woman in the Alien movies. As will quickly become a recurring theme in these posts... I knew nothing about this film. Until today! She is indeed, beautiful. But, it seems to me, she can also demand to be heard, think on her feet, and survive an alien encounter (or two, or three!).
The dynamic between the different crew members on the film, largely separated by class, stood out for me as a point of interest. This crew was not bonded together in a thick-as-thieves kind of way. Each person performed their function, with only the repairmen, engineers Parker and Brett, showing a real sense of camaraderie. The "natural" submission of Brett to his superior officer is questioned by Ripley, who disagrees with his complacence and willingness to obey. I kind of liked that the two men stuck together against the badgering of the rest of the crew.
More to the point, I liked that the crew didn't "come together" as a result of the crisis. The characters do what they are told, but we don't learn about their wives back home, the children that they have never met, or any other personal details that allow us to bond with the characters or see relationships building between them. At all times, a sense of order was imposed by one officer or another. The crew seemed to generally follow the pecking order, and, after a loss or removal of a crew member, who re-jig the hierarchy based on the remaining group members. I found the whole thing quite without emotion, except for the occasional "OMG!" or "WTF?"
Even after Kane's face is raped by the Alien and it later explodes out of his chest, the crew offers few words of condolence or emotion as he is launched into space. In fact, only Lambert seems to be unable to keep her shit together. Her job at the beginning of the movie is to help chart our progress, and by mid film, her job is to snivel and scream and be passively taken by the Alien into his mucky-goo lair.
I also loved that though Ripley is protagonist of the film, this is not made clear until near the end. As she demands to be heard as she is overridden by the other characters, we follow their stories until they meet their timely demises. It isn't she that is the star of the film, she is simply the only one who makes it to the end. While we are meant to associate with her the most (cause really, we, the audience, would also make it through the ordeal) it is the wordless, evolving Alien that is only character that audience really connects with.
The interior and exterior of the ship were impressive. I loved the computer fortress room that was Mother. It was excellent that the two computers betrayed the humans, and particularly that the mother character was pithy, emotionless, and generally uninterested in the fate of hew crew.
I suppose my only criticism with the film is that the Alien itself was played by a tall black man. Bolaji Badejo, a Nigerian design student, was asked to play the role because of his height (7'2). The fact that his body was considered "alien" seems vaguely offensive. I suppose given technology restraints they needed SOMEONE to go into a suit, though so many of the earlier versions of alien seemed to be modeled on aquatic life, insects and animals. Why did the alien NEED to evolve to a vaguely humanoid shape? Are we afraid of something out there? Or, are we still expressing our fear of the other through projecting "alien" characteristics onto other human beings? Though I don't think this really is the ultimate goal of the film, it is still something to be aware of.
To end on a happy (but perhaps unrelated) note, I think the cat was the most alien creature in the film. Having recently inherited three kittens, I can't help but constantly be surprised by the actions they take and their general treatment of their "lesser" human counterparts. Why didn't the crew just do what it did? It managed to survive and get snuggles during the sleep-freeze process. Smart little bugger.
**I should clarify that T & I watched the Director's Cut from 2003, which had (apparently) about four minutes of footage that was changed from the original.
A family member once described Sigourney Weaver to me as one of the most beautiful women in the world. When I confessed that I had no idea who she was, I was told she was the woman in the Alien movies. As will quickly become a recurring theme in these posts... I knew nothing about this film. Until today! She is indeed, beautiful. But, it seems to me, she can also demand to be heard, think on her feet, and survive an alien encounter (or two, or three!).
The dynamic between the different crew members on the film, largely separated by class, stood out for me as a point of interest. This crew was not bonded together in a thick-as-thieves kind of way. Each person performed their function, with only the repairmen, engineers Parker and Brett, showing a real sense of camaraderie. The "natural" submission of Brett to his superior officer is questioned by Ripley, who disagrees with his complacence and willingness to obey. I kind of liked that the two men stuck together against the badgering of the rest of the crew.
More to the point, I liked that the crew didn't "come together" as a result of the crisis. The characters do what they are told, but we don't learn about their wives back home, the children that they have never met, or any other personal details that allow us to bond with the characters or see relationships building between them. At all times, a sense of order was imposed by one officer or another. The crew seemed to generally follow the pecking order, and, after a loss or removal of a crew member, who re-jig the hierarchy based on the remaining group members. I found the whole thing quite without emotion, except for the occasional "OMG!" or "WTF?"
Even after Kane's face is raped by the Alien and it later explodes out of his chest, the crew offers few words of condolence or emotion as he is launched into space. In fact, only Lambert seems to be unable to keep her shit together. Her job at the beginning of the movie is to help chart our progress, and by mid film, her job is to snivel and scream and be passively taken by the Alien into his mucky-goo lair.
I also loved that though Ripley is protagonist of the film, this is not made clear until near the end. As she demands to be heard as she is overridden by the other characters, we follow their stories until they meet their timely demises. It isn't she that is the star of the film, she is simply the only one who makes it to the end. While we are meant to associate with her the most (cause really, we, the audience, would also make it through the ordeal) it is the wordless, evolving Alien that is only character that audience really connects with.
The interior and exterior of the ship were impressive. I loved the computer fortress room that was Mother. It was excellent that the two computers betrayed the humans, and particularly that the mother character was pithy, emotionless, and generally uninterested in the fate of hew crew.
I suppose my only criticism with the film is that the Alien itself was played by a tall black man. Bolaji Badejo, a Nigerian design student, was asked to play the role because of his height (7'2). The fact that his body was considered "alien" seems vaguely offensive. I suppose given technology restraints they needed SOMEONE to go into a suit, though so many of the earlier versions of alien seemed to be modeled on aquatic life, insects and animals. Why did the alien NEED to evolve to a vaguely humanoid shape? Are we afraid of something out there? Or, are we still expressing our fear of the other through projecting "alien" characteristics onto other human beings? Though I don't think this really is the ultimate goal of the film, it is still something to be aware of.
To end on a happy (but perhaps unrelated) note, I think the cat was the most alien creature in the film. Having recently inherited three kittens, I can't help but constantly be surprised by the actions they take and their general treatment of their "lesser" human counterparts. Why didn't the crew just do what it did? It managed to survive and get snuggles during the sleep-freeze process. Smart little bugger.
T's Take on Top Gun
M: This airplane almost looks like a... Space... Flier. Spaceship. Yeah, spaceship.
M: (viewing command centre) Pfft. Present day. What present are you in? Look at the bleepy-bleeps!
(Movie dialogue)
- Ghost Rider, we have an unknown aircraft. Vector 090 for bogey.
- Who's up there?
- Cougar, Merlin, Maverick and Goose.
M: You're just making things up, now.
Michael Ironside was completely miscast in this film - or perhaps it would be better to say his character was completely underplayed. I didn't care about shirtless volleyball or take-me-serious pouting bimbos or bromance. I cared about fighter jets shooting missiles and flipping out in the air and Michael Ironside. His steely glare and all-business demeanor makes him a key candidate for any movie that demands a hardass. Truly, this film would have been much better if it were based around the lead Top Gun instructor with a full career of killing dudes at Mach 5 and a sordid past full of betrayal and military intrigue.
You could play up a broken family life and bouts of alcoholism, his PTSD dragging him back to the same strip club weekly where he makes shady deals with local crime lords to ship Packages from one training zone to another. I could see him greasing the palms of higher ups and, weeping, punching his mirror at home one morning when he makes eye contact with himself while straightening out his uniform. Bright-eyed Maverick could ask him for career advice, and Ironside would smoothly suggest a death-squad posting that would ultimately lead to his ravenous addiction to some exotic drug and use his desperate need to some dark government agency's own cruel ends. When confronted about his duplicity, Mike would calmly tell him that this is the way things are and, by the way, don't ever address me again.
I first saw Michael Ironside in Scanners, a Canadian film from 1981 written and directed by the genious Daivd Cronenberg. Clearly he saw in a young(ish) Michael Ironside what everyone else sees immediately: a hard as nails motherfucker who chews up rocks and spits out gravel. He sounds like he's gargling broken glass and couldn't care less. It's that reposed, begrudging, hard-ass mentality; the guy who gets dragged back into war over and over and accepts it in all its infinite complication knowingly while preforming his function as steady and true as a plowman. Michael Ironside has made impact in my life not only as a screen presence, but also as a voice actor. You might not know it from this movie, but he plays the all-powerful dark technowarlock of shadow Sam Fisher, from the Splinter Cell series, and for this he has won my heart eternal.
But he's not all hard-edge. So much of his work communicates well because of the humanity behind it all, something I saw not one flicker of in poncy Tom Cruise while he minced back and fourth across the screen whimpering under the angst of being an incredible but misunderstood hotshot fighter pilot. Who cares? What does it matter? This man, however good he is at flying jets, is a total drone and has zero reverence for the fact that he's planning his life around executing people with equisite thirty million dollar killing machines. He doesn't care about his nation, or foreign affairs, or anything like that. He's just stoked to go fast and win.
Nobody cares.
The things that made this movie great were the pacing, the buildup, the realistic feeling of actually watching what probably happens behind closed doors at flight academy... I really do believe that they're a bunch of self-absorbed preppy (pardon the pun) flyboys who are totally oblivious to the role they'll inevitably play in terrorizing less fortunate countries into allowing themselves to be exploited by American buisness. But nobody would tell you the writing is superb, because if it was, nobody would believe it. These people are not capable of depth and self-awareness. You can't be an interesting, compelling and philosophically sound person if you're a twenty-two year old jet pilot dedicated to being the mindless tool of your government; these people didn't undergo that career so that they could affect change and make the world better. They saw jets doing rollovers at an airshow when they were kids and said, "Cool!" and never thought past it.
Did I feel like the movie did its job? Of course. This was the US Military funded jerkoff session with a love story shoehorned in so that any given couple can watch it and walk away with something. The characters were largely unlikeable, the love story was boring, and the message had a banal undercurrernt of evil pro-death patriotism. Don't think about it, just be a fighter pilot, because look how cool they are. It'll be great. Chicks love fighter pilots, and everyone will respect you, especially now that this movie has come out.
Nevermind all that. The big End Conflict was very difficult to imagine. Six presumably Russian Migs loaded up and just converged on two F-14s? Why? For what? Was this the attack they'd been planning all along? Where did their order come from? You had better believe that if anything like that ever happened - and indeed, happened to the extent that the story made it to "... the front pages of all the English-speaking world." America would launch into all out war. The rest of those jets would be fucking scrambled. Before Maverick ever made it out there, bombs would be prepped and Black Op teams would be executing foreign nationals, lunging from the closets they were already hiding in. The other side denies the incident? Who the fuck cares? It'd be bombs over Baghdad, folks. America is not the underdog.
Having said all that, if you turn your brain off and get into the eighties short-shorts swing of it you just might catch yourself having fun. Whenever America makes a movie about any military branch you can bet on ten gallons of polish and a commitee-approved storyline/script. The underplayed brainless horror of what we're really witnessing and calculated maniplating Big Brother skull-fuckery aside, I like Top Gun and re-watch it periodically. If only for Michael Ironside.
M: (viewing command centre) Pfft. Present day. What present are you in? Look at the bleepy-bleeps!
(Movie dialogue)
- Ghost Rider, we have an unknown aircraft. Vector 090 for bogey.
- Who's up there?
- Cougar, Merlin, Maverick and Goose.
M: You're just making things up, now.
Michael Ironside was completely miscast in this film - or perhaps it would be better to say his character was completely underplayed. I didn't care about shirtless volleyball or take-me-serious pouting bimbos or bromance. I cared about fighter jets shooting missiles and flipping out in the air and Michael Ironside. His steely glare and all-business demeanor makes him a key candidate for any movie that demands a hardass. Truly, this film would have been much better if it were based around the lead Top Gun instructor with a full career of killing dudes at Mach 5 and a sordid past full of betrayal and military intrigue.
You could play up a broken family life and bouts of alcoholism, his PTSD dragging him back to the same strip club weekly where he makes shady deals with local crime lords to ship Packages from one training zone to another. I could see him greasing the palms of higher ups and, weeping, punching his mirror at home one morning when he makes eye contact with himself while straightening out his uniform. Bright-eyed Maverick could ask him for career advice, and Ironside would smoothly suggest a death-squad posting that would ultimately lead to his ravenous addiction to some exotic drug and use his desperate need to some dark government agency's own cruel ends. When confronted about his duplicity, Mike would calmly tell him that this is the way things are and, by the way, don't ever address me again.
I first saw Michael Ironside in Scanners, a Canadian film from 1981 written and directed by the genious Daivd Cronenberg. Clearly he saw in a young(ish) Michael Ironside what everyone else sees immediately: a hard as nails motherfucker who chews up rocks and spits out gravel. He sounds like he's gargling broken glass and couldn't care less. It's that reposed, begrudging, hard-ass mentality; the guy who gets dragged back into war over and over and accepts it in all its infinite complication knowingly while preforming his function as steady and true as a plowman. Michael Ironside has made impact in my life not only as a screen presence, but also as a voice actor. You might not know it from this movie, but he plays the all-powerful dark technowarlock of shadow Sam Fisher, from the Splinter Cell series, and for this he has won my heart eternal.
But he's not all hard-edge. So much of his work communicates well because of the humanity behind it all, something I saw not one flicker of in poncy Tom Cruise while he minced back and fourth across the screen whimpering under the angst of being an incredible but misunderstood hotshot fighter pilot. Who cares? What does it matter? This man, however good he is at flying jets, is a total drone and has zero reverence for the fact that he's planning his life around executing people with equisite thirty million dollar killing machines. He doesn't care about his nation, or foreign affairs, or anything like that. He's just stoked to go fast and win.
Nobody cares.
The things that made this movie great were the pacing, the buildup, the realistic feeling of actually watching what probably happens behind closed doors at flight academy... I really do believe that they're a bunch of self-absorbed preppy (pardon the pun) flyboys who are totally oblivious to the role they'll inevitably play in terrorizing less fortunate countries into allowing themselves to be exploited by American buisness. But nobody would tell you the writing is superb, because if it was, nobody would believe it. These people are not capable of depth and self-awareness. You can't be an interesting, compelling and philosophically sound person if you're a twenty-two year old jet pilot dedicated to being the mindless tool of your government; these people didn't undergo that career so that they could affect change and make the world better. They saw jets doing rollovers at an airshow when they were kids and said, "Cool!" and never thought past it.
Did I feel like the movie did its job? Of course. This was the US Military funded jerkoff session with a love story shoehorned in so that any given couple can watch it and walk away with something. The characters were largely unlikeable, the love story was boring, and the message had a banal undercurrernt of evil pro-death patriotism. Don't think about it, just be a fighter pilot, because look how cool they are. It'll be great. Chicks love fighter pilots, and everyone will respect you, especially now that this movie has come out.
Nevermind all that. The big End Conflict was very difficult to imagine. Six presumably Russian Migs loaded up and just converged on two F-14s? Why? For what? Was this the attack they'd been planning all along? Where did their order come from? You had better believe that if anything like that ever happened - and indeed, happened to the extent that the story made it to "... the front pages of all the English-speaking world." America would launch into all out war. The rest of those jets would be fucking scrambled. Before Maverick ever made it out there, bombs would be prepped and Black Op teams would be executing foreign nationals, lunging from the closets they were already hiding in. The other side denies the incident? Who the fuck cares? It'd be bombs over Baghdad, folks. America is not the underdog.
Having said all that, if you turn your brain off and get into the eighties short-shorts swing of it you just might catch yourself having fun. Whenever America makes a movie about any military branch you can bet on ten gallons of polish and a commitee-approved storyline/script. The underplayed brainless horror of what we're really witnessing and calculated maniplating Big Brother skull-fuckery aside, I like Top Gun and re-watch it periodically. If only for Michael Ironside.
M's Musings on TOP GUN
Top Gun. Dir. Tony Scott. Screenplay by Jim Cash and Jack Epps Jr. Based on an article by Ehud Yonay. Ft. Tom Cruise and Kelly McGinnis. Prod. Don Simpson and Jerry Bruckheimer. Paramount Pictures, 1986.
Up until yesterday, my only experience with the film Top Gun was going on the ride at Canada's Wonderland. As you waited for 2+ hours for two minutes of head banging, body jiggling, feet dangling thrills, you walked through a bunch of paraphernalia from the film that included some costumes, and, if I remember correctly, even a small plane. Though it was well laid out to make for a more interesting line-up, if you hadn't seen the movie, it is really hard to appreciate cut-scenes and dialogue. The film was at least ten years old by the time I first went on the coaster, and that would have been when I was ten. It wasn't until 2008 (22 years later) that it was renamed "Flight Deck" and all the memorbilia was taken down. I wish I could have appreciated it during the dozens of times I waited in that mind-numbing line.
And now that it is too late, I can. Top Gun was the bestselling film of 1986, when Tom Cruise was less crazy and a heck of a lot younger. What was most interesting about the film, to me, was (what seemed to me to be) the seamless inclusion of an actual fighter squadron of Top Gun pilots and use of various military insignia. When doing some "research" for this post, I was quickly enthralled with the various military approvals and censorship that went into make this film the "right" kind of depiction of the US Army. Removing course language, removing Charlie's officer status to allow for a "legal" relationship between enlisted personnel and a civilian contractor, was just a start. Removing references to Cuba, a then hot button issue, and replacing it with "international waters" allowed for the some of the political elements of a film about the military to somehow become more suppressed.
Patriotism in this film was both more blatant and more hidden than its equivalent in recent years. By making it about a specific flight school whose job was to be the best at killing bad guys in airplanes, there is no doubt that the film largely stands as a helpful reminder to the 1980s public that America is #1, with the best of the best (Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer) taking big risks and being dreamy while they saved the homeland from evil and uncertainty. This kind of carefully constructed narrative about army life and the trials and tribulations remains a cornerstone of American film making, though I would say that these narratives have become more complicated, and now at least rely more heavily on the past when the story they want to tell is a straightforward "Ra-Ra!" tale about America's troops.
One other issue that I discovered in my research is the death of an aerobatic pilot during the film. Art Scholl and his plane were never recovered when he crashed after an attempting a flat spin and losing control. Though the film acknowledged this type of incident through Goose's death, as well as through a dedication at the end of the film, I felt that the reality of the situation could have been better discussed. Perhaps it was at the time? Who knows. Anyway, it is unfortunate to hear of this kind of disaster on a film set.
Now, let's talk about the film. 1980s masculinity, with a leather jacket and a motorcycle, matched with the big hair, skinny jeans 1980s femininity, was occasionally distracting and always interesting to behold. I felt like Meg Ryan and Kelly McGinnis were having a contest over who had the most hair, or at least who could make it look like they had the most hair. I found Charlie, initially introduced as an astrophysicist and top instructor, very quickly took on a submissive role to Maverick and really lost a goodly amount of her power and independence. This strong female lead was really not at all.
The synthesized muzak which was used to score the film pretty annoying, but served to distinguish this as a drama more than an action thriller. This was about people, people! I loved the song in the final credits. T & I rocked out pretty hard to it. Other than that, I found the music really aggravating. But seriously, "Take My Breath Away", for better or worse, had to be introduced to the world somehow. If that was what 80s sex was like, though I am glad I am a product of it... I am glad I will never get to experience it. Yuck-o!
In summation, a fun, predictable movie which is made more fun by the inclusion and control of the American military. Not something that I think could be produced now.
Up until yesterday, my only experience with the film Top Gun was going on the ride at Canada's Wonderland. As you waited for 2+ hours for two minutes of head banging, body jiggling, feet dangling thrills, you walked through a bunch of paraphernalia from the film that included some costumes, and, if I remember correctly, even a small plane. Though it was well laid out to make for a more interesting line-up, if you hadn't seen the movie, it is really hard to appreciate cut-scenes and dialogue. The film was at least ten years old by the time I first went on the coaster, and that would have been when I was ten. It wasn't until 2008 (22 years later) that it was renamed "Flight Deck" and all the memorbilia was taken down. I wish I could have appreciated it during the dozens of times I waited in that mind-numbing line.
And now that it is too late, I can. Top Gun was the bestselling film of 1986, when Tom Cruise was less crazy and a heck of a lot younger. What was most interesting about the film, to me, was (what seemed to me to be) the seamless inclusion of an actual fighter squadron of Top Gun pilots and use of various military insignia. When doing some "research" for this post, I was quickly enthralled with the various military approvals and censorship that went into make this film the "right" kind of depiction of the US Army. Removing course language, removing Charlie's officer status to allow for a "legal" relationship between enlisted personnel and a civilian contractor, was just a start. Removing references to Cuba, a then hot button issue, and replacing it with "international waters" allowed for the some of the political elements of a film about the military to somehow become more suppressed.
Patriotism in this film was both more blatant and more hidden than its equivalent in recent years. By making it about a specific flight school whose job was to be the best at killing bad guys in airplanes, there is no doubt that the film largely stands as a helpful reminder to the 1980s public that America is #1, with the best of the best (Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer) taking big risks and being dreamy while they saved the homeland from evil and uncertainty. This kind of carefully constructed narrative about army life and the trials and tribulations remains a cornerstone of American film making, though I would say that these narratives have become more complicated, and now at least rely more heavily on the past when the story they want to tell is a straightforward "Ra-Ra!" tale about America's troops.
One other issue that I discovered in my research is the death of an aerobatic pilot during the film. Art Scholl and his plane were never recovered when he crashed after an attempting a flat spin and losing control. Though the film acknowledged this type of incident through Goose's death, as well as through a dedication at the end of the film, I felt that the reality of the situation could have been better discussed. Perhaps it was at the time? Who knows. Anyway, it is unfortunate to hear of this kind of disaster on a film set.
Now, let's talk about the film. 1980s masculinity, with a leather jacket and a motorcycle, matched with the big hair, skinny jeans 1980s femininity, was occasionally distracting and always interesting to behold. I felt like Meg Ryan and Kelly McGinnis were having a contest over who had the most hair, or at least who could make it look like they had the most hair. I found Charlie, initially introduced as an astrophysicist and top instructor, very quickly took on a submissive role to Maverick and really lost a goodly amount of her power and independence. This strong female lead was really not at all.
The synthesized muzak which was used to score the film pretty annoying, but served to distinguish this as a drama more than an action thriller. This was about people, people! I loved the song in the final credits. T & I rocked out pretty hard to it. Other than that, I found the music really aggravating. But seriously, "Take My Breath Away", for better or worse, had to be introduced to the world somehow. If that was what 80s sex was like, though I am glad I am a product of it... I am glad I will never get to experience it. Yuck-o!
In summation, a fun, predictable movie which is made more fun by the inclusion and control of the American military. Not something that I think could be produced now.
Friday, August 27, 2010
M's Musings on THE BREAKFAST CLUB
The Breakfast Club. Written and Directed by John Hughes. Ft. Emilio Estevez, Paul Gleason, Anthony Michael Hall, Judd Nelson, Molly Ringwald and Ally Sheedy. Universal, 1985.
When asked point blank, a good friend of our stated that one of her most frequently watched movies of all time was this: The Breakfast Club. I have never seen it, and it seemed like an excellent choice for a Friday night.
When I went to high school, breakfast club was a free place to get breakfast before class to help lessen the divide between rich kids and poorer kids and to ensure healthy, stimulated minds as we started our day. Besides the fact that I know that T volunteered in that capacity, I have no idea what went on. I never participated. That said, I wonder if that kind of club, which would mostly stereotype based on economic status, might be less clique-y and more congenial than others. Who knows. Maybe T will enlighten us.
I couldn't believe the built up melodrama in this. This, the penultimate teen movie, that, in many senses, spawned a genre and CREATED a new demographic... did things that high school movies continue to do, but also things that I would say, are done far less in school movies today.
The emphasis on parents and home relationships was far more important, in all cases, then who was dating who, who was pregnant, and who wasn't getting laid. It was fascinating how lines were drawn and then removed by creating a new little group which had to establish its own pecking order without the benefits of larger group support.
In many ways, through trying to break down stereotypes, I think this movie enforced them. But, it was attempting a criticism of society larger than high school in a way I did not expect. I spent most of my high school career thinking about life AFTER high school, and how to shape my adulthood in such a way that it replicated very little of my high school experience. No real solutions offered, I guess, except acknowledging others across "clique" lines, and looking for similarities instead of differences.
I liked the way that the film refused to move into flashbacks, etc, but tried to follow a progression throughout a single day. There was minimal set changes and the whole thing seems to have been shot on location. It made the film have a theatrical quality, with most relationships being described instead of shown. I think teen movies have moved away from this technique, to some extent.
The characters spoke for themselves, slowly building up layers of depth that moved beyond the surface. The role of the educator, and adults more generally, is denigrated. Teachers aren't out to save lives, they are just out to punish and destroy. The teens needed each other in order to sort through their issues and establish a set of shared characteristics that made them unique from the adults that create the false boundaries of high school life. As I said, it all seemed very theatrical.
This movie really appealed to the angst in me. It created a teen culture that was well cemented by the time I plugged through high school in the early 2000s. Our 10 Things I Hate About You and Dawson's Creek, I think, in so many ways, are a reply to this film. I understand the whole genre better after taking this trip down memory lane. I suppose Sixteen Candles and Ferris Bueller will make their own appearances on later entries. So angsty!
When I went to high school, breakfast club was a free place to get breakfast before class to help lessen the divide between rich kids and poorer kids and to ensure healthy, stimulated minds as we started our day. Besides the fact that I know that T volunteered in that capacity, I have no idea what went on. I never participated. That said, I wonder if that kind of club, which would mostly stereotype based on economic status, might be less clique-y and more congenial than others. Who knows. Maybe T will enlighten us.
I couldn't believe the built up melodrama in this. This, the penultimate teen movie, that, in many senses, spawned a genre and CREATED a new demographic... did things that high school movies continue to do, but also things that I would say, are done far less in school movies today.
The emphasis on parents and home relationships was far more important, in all cases, then who was dating who, who was pregnant, and who wasn't getting laid. It was fascinating how lines were drawn and then removed by creating a new little group which had to establish its own pecking order without the benefits of larger group support.
In many ways, through trying to break down stereotypes, I think this movie enforced them. But, it was attempting a criticism of society larger than high school in a way I did not expect. I spent most of my high school career thinking about life AFTER high school, and how to shape my adulthood in such a way that it replicated very little of my high school experience. No real solutions offered, I guess, except acknowledging others across "clique" lines, and looking for similarities instead of differences.
I liked the way that the film refused to move into flashbacks, etc, but tried to follow a progression throughout a single day. There was minimal set changes and the whole thing seems to have been shot on location. It made the film have a theatrical quality, with most relationships being described instead of shown. I think teen movies have moved away from this technique, to some extent.
The characters spoke for themselves, slowly building up layers of depth that moved beyond the surface. The role of the educator, and adults more generally, is denigrated. Teachers aren't out to save lives, they are just out to punish and destroy. The teens needed each other in order to sort through their issues and establish a set of shared characteristics that made them unique from the adults that create the false boundaries of high school life. As I said, it all seemed very theatrical.
This movie really appealed to the angst in me. It created a teen culture that was well cemented by the time I plugged through high school in the early 2000s. Our 10 Things I Hate About You and Dawson's Creek, I think, in so many ways, are a reply to this film. I understand the whole genre better after taking this trip down memory lane. I suppose Sixteen Candles and Ferris Bueller will make their own appearances on later entries. So angsty!
T's Take on THE BREAKFAST CLUB
Allison: I don't have to run away and live in the street...I can run away and, go to the ocean, I can go to the country, I can go to the mountains. I can go to Israel, Africa, Afghanistan...
T: That's a... Fashionable choice of countries.
M: It was acceptable in the eighties.
Claire putting eye make-up on Allison:
Claire: Don't be afraid.
Allison: Don't stick that in my eye!
Claire: I'm not sticking it, just close... Just go like that... (Claire closes her eyes. Allison mimics her.)
Claire: Good...
Claire puts the make-up on her and Allison squeals.
Claire: You know you really do look a lot better without all that black shit on your eyes...
Allison: Hey...I like that black shit.
M: If life were like that, you wouldn't need a Visa.
The Breakfast Club is one of the few movies I know of that attempts to take teenage life seriously without jamming larger issues like pregnancy and venereal disease and Columbinistic (?) homicide on the viewer to instill guilt and alienation. The reason this movie is so incredibly seminal and groundbreaking is that the characters are relatable and the topics grounded firmly in reality. The writing and physical, improvisational nature of these characters grabs the viewer inexorably. One cannot help but relate, or at the very least sympathize.
The Bender character, as well as the Carl the custodian, are used primarily as the writers' narration. They jab and push at the rest of the more conventional characters in a "C'mon... C'moooooon!" manner. Nobody has any answers for these people, but the idea behind the movie is that there are no answers, only typically missed opportunities for compassion and understanding. All things aside, this is exactly what I might expect of a mixed group of teenagers left alone in a library. The beautiful thing about teens is they aren't typically very bright, or thoughtful, or analytical, but they are extremely reminiscent of adults in their breadth of emotion, and that makes wonderful fodder for film and television.
Personally, I had a great time in highschool. I felt angst, but I didn't feel corralled into any of the specific groups presented in the movie. I understand most people don't, but this was a very easy, straight-forward way to approach most of the topics plaguing the generalized Teen - indeed, most conventions still holding true today. The ultimate message here is that people and their issues (no matter how far removed they seem from one another) are infinitely relate-able, no matter their class or circumstance, and if we all took the time to drop our airs and convene over the issues that truly bog us down, we'll all inevitably realize that we're not so different (you and I). As messages go, you could do worse.
You don't need my recommendation to watch this movie, but I'll give it anyway: Breakfast Club is awesome, and it has meant enough to enough people that its existence has been officially Validated in the annals of Time and Cinema.
Watch the Breakfast Club.
T: That's a... Fashionable choice of countries.
M: It was acceptable in the eighties.
Claire putting eye make-up on Allison:
Claire: Don't be afraid.
Allison: Don't stick that in my eye!
Claire: I'm not sticking it, just close... Just go like that... (Claire closes her eyes. Allison mimics her.)
Claire: Good...
Claire puts the make-up on her and Allison squeals.
Claire: You know you really do look a lot better without all that black shit on your eyes...
Allison: Hey...I like that black shit.
M: If life were like that, you wouldn't need a Visa.
The Breakfast Club is one of the few movies I know of that attempts to take teenage life seriously without jamming larger issues like pregnancy and venereal disease and Columbinistic (?) homicide on the viewer to instill guilt and alienation. The reason this movie is so incredibly seminal and groundbreaking is that the characters are relatable and the topics grounded firmly in reality. The writing and physical, improvisational nature of these characters grabs the viewer inexorably. One cannot help but relate, or at the very least sympathize.
The Bender character, as well as the Carl the custodian, are used primarily as the writers' narration. They jab and push at the rest of the more conventional characters in a "C'mon... C'moooooon!" manner. Nobody has any answers for these people, but the idea behind the movie is that there are no answers, only typically missed opportunities for compassion and understanding. All things aside, this is exactly what I might expect of a mixed group of teenagers left alone in a library. The beautiful thing about teens is they aren't typically very bright, or thoughtful, or analytical, but they are extremely reminiscent of adults in their breadth of emotion, and that makes wonderful fodder for film and television.
Personally, I had a great time in highschool. I felt angst, but I didn't feel corralled into any of the specific groups presented in the movie. I understand most people don't, but this was a very easy, straight-forward way to approach most of the topics plaguing the generalized Teen - indeed, most conventions still holding true today. The ultimate message here is that people and their issues (no matter how far removed they seem from one another) are infinitely relate-able, no matter their class or circumstance, and if we all took the time to drop our airs and convene over the issues that truly bog us down, we'll all inevitably realize that we're not so different (you and I). As messages go, you could do worse.
You don't need my recommendation to watch this movie, but I'll give it anyway: Breakfast Club is awesome, and it has meant enough to enough people that its existence has been officially Validated in the annals of Time and Cinema.
Watch the Breakfast Club.
T's Take on BABY FACE
Babyface: vicious trollop or Machiavellian mastermind? I'm willing to classify her as both. The victim of abuse as a young woman, Babyface was given philosophic council, possibly in error. We follow Lily (Babyface) as she develops into something more than a user, more than a grifter or drifting boyhowdy. She becomes a kind of systematic, sociopolitical succubus who undertakes the dismantling of men as a full time job, a kind of double agent biding her time with tedious menial work on her arduous way to the top. We watch her slink from floor to floor in the only way she knows how: she hooks a man, she ensured the two of them will be caught together, and uses the opportune meeting with her beaux's immediate supervisor to shack up with him instead, discarding her previous occupant like a hermit crab having outgrown its shell.
This movie sends two messages, and I think I understand the reasoning. In her father's speakeasy she meets an elder, learned man. He introduces her to an edition of Nietzsche I can't be bothered to recall and councils to her exploit the men she finds Of Use. True, by simple virtue of her life experience and overall attitude toward life she seems virtually cut out to leave particles of business-types like the pathetic gaggle of management unfortunate enough to cross her path swirling in her wake... But there's something about her mentor/father figure that I just don't buy.
Like Nietzsche himself might of all life, the man assumes the young Lily completely beyond redemption or happiness. He assumes she could never be content or at peace contributing little and accepting little, working her way up a ladder legitimately, or depending on humanity as a means of self-propagation. No, the only way that the intelligent, self-reliant, infinitely resilient and capable young Lily could possibly make something of herself is by finding something previously established and rending it limb from limb as a means to an end. Very practical, but by all means extremely dim in his view of our young lass.
By the end of the movie we find Lily at odds with herself for the path she's chosen, and realizes the all that glitters isn't gold. She leaves the money she's accrued on the floor of an ambulance to comfort the only man she's come to care about. The man, of course, who attempted suicide after she left him hanging with a billion-dollar lawsuit hanging around his neck as a direct result of his involvement with her. Not the first man to try ending his life on her account, naturally. I hardly felt a sense of redemption watching her come rushing to the aid of this man, when two had fallen previous in their misbegotten flailings over her love-em-and-leave-em attitude.
I understand Babyface in her simplistic way, but I feel like the story was a little too realistically cold and opportunistic to leave me comfortable. I like that in a movie.
This movie sends two messages, and I think I understand the reasoning. In her father's speakeasy she meets an elder, learned man. He introduces her to an edition of Nietzsche I can't be bothered to recall and councils to her exploit the men she finds Of Use. True, by simple virtue of her life experience and overall attitude toward life she seems virtually cut out to leave particles of business-types like the pathetic gaggle of management unfortunate enough to cross her path swirling in her wake... But there's something about her mentor/father figure that I just don't buy.
Like Nietzsche himself might of all life, the man assumes the young Lily completely beyond redemption or happiness. He assumes she could never be content or at peace contributing little and accepting little, working her way up a ladder legitimately, or depending on humanity as a means of self-propagation. No, the only way that the intelligent, self-reliant, infinitely resilient and capable young Lily could possibly make something of herself is by finding something previously established and rending it limb from limb as a means to an end. Very practical, but by all means extremely dim in his view of our young lass.
By the end of the movie we find Lily at odds with herself for the path she's chosen, and realizes the all that glitters isn't gold. She leaves the money she's accrued on the floor of an ambulance to comfort the only man she's come to care about. The man, of course, who attempted suicide after she left him hanging with a billion-dollar lawsuit hanging around his neck as a direct result of his involvement with her. Not the first man to try ending his life on her account, naturally. I hardly felt a sense of redemption watching her come rushing to the aid of this man, when two had fallen previous in their misbegotten flailings over her love-em-and-leave-em attitude.
I understand Babyface in her simplistic way, but I feel like the story was a little too realistically cold and opportunistic to leave me comfortable. I like that in a movie.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
M's Musings on BABY FACE
Baby Face. Dir. Alfred E. Green. Story by Darryl F. Zanuck (pseud. Mark Canfield). Screenplay by Gene Markey and Kathryn Scola. Ft. Barbara Stanwyck and George Brent. Warner Brothers, 1933.
There is so much to say about this film. Is it horrifying? Is it empowering? Is it something else entirely? From a moral perspective, this movie is fascinating, because it is beholden to none. Do we hate Lily for her sexual prowess and general apathy toward men? Do we hate the restrictive patriarchal society that encourages, and in some cases, demands this type of behaviour? What do we think of the cobbler's interpretation of Nietzsche and Lily's "application" of it? How does the race dynamic function in the film? What does the ambiguous ending mean? And, most importantly, how do we read this film in light of its censored release and subsequent "rediscovery"? These are just some of the thoughts ricocheting around in my mind.
Lily abandons her life at her father's speakeasy as a prostitute to gain agency and go get the things she wants (read: fur coats, jewelry and a permanent). With her trusty friend/co-worker Chico turning around for privacy, Lily ensures their arrival in New York City with a late night tryst with the train worker trying to kick them out. It is a sexualized telling of the American Dream. Lily and her four dollars pick a bank, and then Lily pillages her way to the top with no regard to the lives torn apart due to her sexual misconduct. As the camera pans up the floors to demarcate Lily's progress, Lily gives the men exactly what they want so that she can achieve more and more markers of wealth and privilege. In the end, she is able to decide whether or not to take pity on her husband, the indicted bank president, choosing first to keep the things she worked for, and then decides that she will give it all up as this man she can truly love.
Lily's mentor's words of wisdom basically demand the plot structure of the rest of the film:
A woman, young, beautiful like you, can get anything she wants in the world. Because you have power over men. But you must use men, not let them use you. You must be a master, not a slave. Look here — Nietzsche says, "All life, no matter how we idealize it, is nothing more nor less than exploitation." That's what I'm telling you. Exploit yourself. Go to some big city where you will find opportunities! Use men! Be strong! Defiant! Use men to get the things you want!
In the same way that the cleverest men who "want it the most" will rise to the top, it is Lily's ability to read men and play the roles they most desire that allow her to succeed. Her body and her "baby face" as well as her ingenuity all factor as key attributes to get the necessary rise out of her would-be sugar daddies. By exploiting yourself you can exploit others, and thus get everything you desire. Embrace your feminine wiles... and you can have men buy you nice things. All in all, a fun commentary on how one defines work, as well as a critique of the economic system that has instilled these values.
This whole idea that if you can learn how the system works and then use that knowledge as leverage, and thus regain some agency... makes this movie more than worth watching. Lily is sassy and hard right up until the final moments. I suppose the biggest let down for me was the ending. I wanted her to walk away, to keep her sense of entitlement and not desire this "love" sentiment that she worked so hard against. It cast a moral pallor on earlier actions where having none was far more critical.
Lily, through choosing her husband, redefines "what she wants" by selecting the more honourable gender role of wife over higher economic status... Having money without the attachments and security of a man will not be enough. What did other people think of the ending???
A couple more points. Along the way, we have a racial dynamic that parallels Lily's story. As soon as Lily sleeps with the train attendant, Chico loses her own agency and becomes dependent on Lily. Lily rises in power and wealth, and Chico becomes her maid. She appears inconsistently as a friend in fine dress or as an employed waitperson who never judges, or even reacts, to the prestige and tactics that Lily uses to take care of them. Chico has no agency of her own, no choice to make... She simply follows Lily. This is not a successful depiction of face in my opinion.
Finally: the film I saw was not the film that Warner Brothers released. Last night, T and I sat down to watch the uncensored 1933 version of Baby Face that has recently (in 2005) been "discovered" at the Library of Congress, after it was assumed to be lost forever. The film that was released made Lily into a "bad" girl by framing the narrative with a very conservative moral structure. Instead of acting as a commentary on how abuse leads to more abuse, the film becomes about Lily's poor moral character. The tagline: She climbed the ladder of success - wrong by wrong!
The various methods of controlling the narrative through censorship are worth noting:
Calm and limit the sexuality. Remove any references to prostitution. Make the cobbler an advocate for making "good" decisions. Delete the Nietzsche. Delete the train scene. Keep all references to success as consumerism. Play up the morality of the ending. Encourage submission of women to men, black to white, and poor to rich.
Fascinating.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
M's Musings on MARATHON MAN
Marathon Man. Dir. John Schlesinger. Book & Screenplay by William Goldman. Ft. Dustin Hoffman, Laurence Olivier, Roy Scheider. Paramount, 1976.
As a fellow grad student, I know what it is like to be completely absorbed in your work, to the detriment of your personality, social life, social skills and general well being. Dustin Hoffman, you couldn't pull this off if you wanted to. Spend three or four months in front of a laptop screen eating not-quite-expired food, and then I think you would be better able to get "inside" your character.
One thing I like about DH is that he isn't really all that good looking. By no means is he tragic, but he isn't terrifyingly rugged in a way that is distracting and uncomfortable. Hell, if he could pull off Tootsie and still land a lady, he has proven his masculinity (I guess?).
Hated the new ending. The whole book is about Babe learning to be less naive and to FINISH SOMETHING HE STARTED. Its about agency and control, which he asserts far less by watching Szell fall down the stairs. No longer talking to shadowy imaginings, but standing up and taking charge is really important. If he was able to kill all the bad guys, then he has actually taken revenge... or grown up... or entered the real world... or something of the sort.
Eating the diamonds was also a strange choice. Was it because the jewels would have been stored in various Jewish body cavities to keep them from the Nazis, like Szell? I didn't follow that. I liked it better when the idea was that he doesn't even see the diamonds until he is in the process of throwing them away. And, by throwing them into a body of water, instead of some treatment plant, I felt like they were returning to the earth, instead of being processed (much like the Jews in the Holocaust?). Why did the diamonds go through the same "cleansing" process? I don't know. Maybe I am way off base.
I really liked the Doc character. He was charming and didn't get enough screen time. I wish they had shown the scene with him conversing with the other double agent. It would have really filled out his character. I found the transition to him being Babe's brother really awkward and confusing. There was no build up whatsoever.
Final thoughts? Definitely worth watching. Maybe even more so if you aren't comparing it against the book. I heard on the interweb it was one of the first big screen movies to use a steadicam. A kind of interesting tidbit.
Final final thoughts? A great read. Definitely pick it up. Many thanks to a dear friend for encouraging me to read it many years ago (though I didn't read it until yesterday).
T's Take on MARATHON MAN
Recorded Thoughts During:
M: Dustin Hoffman was a lot younger in the seventies. Or whatever.
Early on, Dustin Hoffman takes off after a real life man on his usual running trail, trying desperately to catch him, and fails. I asked M what was going on, and she tells me she thinks it was supposed to be a projection of a runner, and we suddenly see a film-grainy projection of a runner.
They did not pull that off.
T: I had definitely forgotten the breadth of this movie's narrative. It's super complicated.
Best quote of the movie occurs in front of white and orange decorative steps that lead nowhere in the fountain: "Iz ZAT zee TROOF?" Wicked.
T: How's your secret agent man? He got duped and killed in by an old Nazi dude.
M: This was different in the book. (repeat x300)
The Nitty Gritty
Running for a long time should have struck me as an incredibly useful attribute prior to this movie, but it never has. Dustin Hoffman running barefoot through rubble freshly anesthetized and tortured was completely nails. My favorite thing about this movie was that it showed people can be useless student runners in the stupid nineteen seventies and still potentially be completely Boss. Dustin Hoffman's character (whats-his-face) is sort of a dweeber who pales in the face of femininity and purposely undercuts himself as a matter of habit. William Goldman, author of both novel and screenplay, delivers an effectively complex and human character in whats-his-face. It feels much less like a staged confluence of events and more like a man wrestling with his environment, truly the mark of any movie successfully attempting intrigue.
... Except for all the secret agent stuff. Those parts felt somewhat shoehorned-in and arbitrary, but I love any work that takes stabs at government conspiracy and give theoretical insight into messy rudderless clandestine organizations. That is a very popular note to strike, and whatever shortcomings I found in the blocky, uninspired action sequences and often stiff acting from supporting characters were infinitely made up for by the realistic feeling that one is Caught Up in something plausible and decidedly Bigger in Scope.
At this juncture I would like to alert the reader to spoilers: the book, as I'm informed by M, ends with whats-his-face shooting the dastardly Nazi and throwing the rest of the diamonds into the water just as the police arrive. The movie, however, sees the Nazi chasing the remainder of the diamonds down the metal staircase and falling on his own blade, Hoffman's character absconding with his gun and tossing it (presumably along with his baggage over his father's suicide) into the water along his daily jogging route.
If I might venture a guess, it seems to me that William Goldman might have been less satisfied with a character who, when given a Nazi and a gun, thinks to himself: "Kay." and shoots the motherfucker like some kind of desperado jerkwad. I felt like the story begged a more philosophically satisfying ending. What's-his-face wasn't a killer, even if his genealogy predicted it. Torture aside, he didn't want to see people die over this, he just wanted to get on with his life and right the existing wrongs. Call me a school child, but the message is stronger, and smarter. Why would this guy murder an essentially unarmed old man (granted, knife, but whatever!) and throw a billion dollars worth of diamonds away so he can take the wrap, ruin his reputation, life and career to go to jail? It ain't murder if you didn't shoot anyone, and it's not moral highground if you shortcut. A Nazi being captured by the police or falling on his own blade is like... The universe unfolding as it should. Shooting him down from ten yards away with a Colt .45 while he begs for his life is murder, Nazi torturing fuck or no.
So given the ending, I liked the movie I watched a lot more than the book I didn't read. It made more sense to me, in any case. I would recommend this movie to anyone I like and indeed, it had been far too long since I'd rewatched it.
Watch Marathon Man.
M: Dustin Hoffman was a lot younger in the seventies. Or whatever.
Early on, Dustin Hoffman takes off after a real life man on his usual running trail, trying desperately to catch him, and fails. I asked M what was going on, and she tells me she thinks it was supposed to be a projection of a runner, and we suddenly see a film-grainy projection of a runner.
They did not pull that off.
T: I had definitely forgotten the breadth of this movie's narrative. It's super complicated.
Best quote of the movie occurs in front of white and orange decorative steps that lead nowhere in the fountain: "Iz ZAT zee TROOF?" Wicked.
T: How's your secret agent man? He got duped and killed in by an old Nazi dude.
M: This was different in the book. (repeat x300)
The Nitty Gritty
Running for a long time should have struck me as an incredibly useful attribute prior to this movie, but it never has. Dustin Hoffman running barefoot through rubble freshly anesthetized and tortured was completely nails. My favorite thing about this movie was that it showed people can be useless student runners in the stupid nineteen seventies and still potentially be completely Boss. Dustin Hoffman's character (whats-his-face) is sort of a dweeber who pales in the face of femininity and purposely undercuts himself as a matter of habit. William Goldman, author of both novel and screenplay, delivers an effectively complex and human character in whats-his-face. It feels much less like a staged confluence of events and more like a man wrestling with his environment, truly the mark of any movie successfully attempting intrigue.
... Except for all the secret agent stuff. Those parts felt somewhat shoehorned-in and arbitrary, but I love any work that takes stabs at government conspiracy and give theoretical insight into messy rudderless clandestine organizations. That is a very popular note to strike, and whatever shortcomings I found in the blocky, uninspired action sequences and often stiff acting from supporting characters were infinitely made up for by the realistic feeling that one is Caught Up in something plausible and decidedly Bigger in Scope.
At this juncture I would like to alert the reader to spoilers: the book, as I'm informed by M, ends with whats-his-face shooting the dastardly Nazi and throwing the rest of the diamonds into the water just as the police arrive. The movie, however, sees the Nazi chasing the remainder of the diamonds down the metal staircase and falling on his own blade, Hoffman's character absconding with his gun and tossing it (presumably along with his baggage over his father's suicide) into the water along his daily jogging route.
If I might venture a guess, it seems to me that William Goldman might have been less satisfied with a character who, when given a Nazi and a gun, thinks to himself: "Kay." and shoots the motherfucker like some kind of desperado jerkwad. I felt like the story begged a more philosophically satisfying ending. What's-his-face wasn't a killer, even if his genealogy predicted it. Torture aside, he didn't want to see people die over this, he just wanted to get on with his life and right the existing wrongs. Call me a school child, but the message is stronger, and smarter. Why would this guy murder an essentially unarmed old man (granted, knife, but whatever!) and throw a billion dollars worth of diamonds away so he can take the wrap, ruin his reputation, life and career to go to jail? It ain't murder if you didn't shoot anyone, and it's not moral highground if you shortcut. A Nazi being captured by the police or falling on his own blade is like... The universe unfolding as it should. Shooting him down from ten yards away with a Colt .45 while he begs for his life is murder, Nazi torturing fuck or no.
So given the ending, I liked the movie I watched a lot more than the book I didn't read. It made more sense to me, in any case. I would recommend this movie to anyone I like and indeed, it had been far too long since I'd rewatched it.
Watch Marathon Man.
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