Monthly Archives: November 2014

#64: Awakenings (1990)

20 Thursday Nov 2014

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Young Leonard Lowe became aware
His hands began to twitch and shake.
He soon could only sit and stare,
The same asleep as when awake.
 
For thirty years, this chronic sign
Could not be cured by constant care,
Until, in 1969,
There came self-conscious Dr. Sayer.
 
He noticed similarities
And had the courage to opine
That patients, though their bodies seize,
Could still be reached in their decline.
 
A drug administered to Lowe
Released him from eternal freeze.
To him, it was as years ago,
Before his thirty-year disease.
 
The other patients too were freed
And had the privilege to know
The joy of every self-done deed
And liberty to say hello.
 
And yet such freedom had to stall;
The drug wore off with daunting speed,
And Leonard was the first to fall,
Soon powerless to move or read.
 
Despite the agonizing cost,
Sayer still heard Leonard’s silent call.
‘Tis better to have lived and lost
Than never to have lived at all.
_______________
 

Before Robin Williams earned his Oscar for Good Will Hunting, he deserved one for Awakenings. Based off the true story of Dr. Oliver Sacks, Awakenings depicts the debilitating effects of a post-encephalitic brain disorder that left its victims with so many tics and tremors that they effectively froze, and the brief return to life that an experimental drug afforded them. With its subtly beautiful score and moving performances, Awakenings deserved so much more praise than it received in a year dominated by Dances with Wolves, Goodfellas, and Ghost.

Though slightly sentimental, the acting is phenomenal, not just for its nuance and realism but because of who was cast. This was not Robin Williams’s first dramatic role, but considering his proven comic energy, the level of control he exhibits to play a timid but impassioned neurologist is exceptional. Likewise, Robert De Niro sheds his tough-guy gangster persona (seen even that year in Goodfellas) for a sensitive portrayal of helplessness as Leonard Lowe. He, at least, was nominated for Best Actor and definitely deserved it. Other excellent roles include Julie Kavner (Marge Simpson) as supportive nurse Eleanor Costello and John Heard as nay-saying Dr. Kaufman, whose negativity is rebuffed with a communal donation similar to Rudy’s jersey scene.

Though he is fonder of plants than people, Dr. Sayer insists that there is still hope for the frozen chronic cases and relentlessly endeavors to reach them by any means possible, including an actually practical use for a Ouija board. I remember how my mom choked up a bit at the reunion of the awakened Leonard with his mother. The joy of the patients, including Anne Meara and Alice Drummond (the librarian from Ghostbusters), and their families is keenly felt as an almost literal resurrection from the dead. Their return to life and the realization of their lost decades are poignant and occasionally humorous as they adapt to their new circumstances and try to live as they could not, with “the freedom of life, the wonderment of life.” The loss of that freedom is heartbreaking as Leonard twitches and convulses like an advanced Parkinson’s patient. Such spasms could have become ridiculous with a lesser actor, but De Niro retains the human connection that holds the tragedy in his potentially grotesque performance.

Because of the helpless agony endured, one might wonder about the morality of letting such suffering continue. While such concerns are raised, the solutions luckily never veer toward euthanasia, even as the patients return to their vegetative states. Leonard’s mother knew he was aware of her presence, and his brain responded to his own name. Such details and the patients’ awakenings themselves proved that, however deep within, they were still alive and entitled to care and love.

Awakenings may not be as popular as their other films, but my VC and I consider it the best for Robin Williams, Robert De Niro, and director Penny Marshall. Compared with their others, it is also a thoroughly clean film, save for a lone, unnecessary F-word. It’s sobering, though, to consider that Williams’s knowledge of the effects of Parkinson’s from this film may have factored into his suicide when he learned he was in the early stages; I hope and pray that one day we will understand the human brain well enough to assist those still suffering from such chronic conditions.

Best line: (Anthony, an orderly, as all of the awakened patients are excitedly running around) “I think I liked ‘em better the other way.”

 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

251 Followers and Counting

#65: Fantasia (1940)

19 Wednesday Nov 2014

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The power of classical music is known,
And here now Walt Disney has made it his own
With images striking in color and tone.
 
The instruments hum to Bach’s ominous beat,
And fishes and flowers and fairies petite
All dance to Tchaikovsky’s own Nutcracker Suite.
 
Poor Mickey, apprentice to wizard Yen Sid,
Enlivens a broom that he cannot forbid,
And only his mage can undo what he did.
 
Stravinsky is next, as the earth is beginning,
And life conceives dinosaurs, fighting and grinning,
But even T. Rexes do not end up winning.
 
Then Beethoven yields us a pastoral spy
At amorous centaurs and cute pegasi
And thunderous parties that never run dry.
 
The animals prance through a fanciful day
Of hippos and elephants, who soon fall prey
To covetous gators, who love their buffet.
 
At last, evil Chernabog reigns o’er the night
And every last hellion, phantom, and fright,
Until they are banished by heavenly light.
__________________
 

If any animated film deserves a 10 for artistry, it’s Walt Disney’s masterpiece Fantasia. Possibly the most well-known experimental film of all time, Disney’s efforts to immortalize classical treasures in an animated framework were not particularly successful with audiences in 1940, but the intervening decades have proven its unique combination of potent music and images.

I’ll be honest: it’s an excellent film to fall asleep to, but also equally excellent to scrutinize. Touching on a wide range of subjects, it presents a compendious view of mythology, popular “science,” and the struggle of good versus evil. Even at its cutest and most child-centered, Fantasia oozes imaginative virtuosity, such as the giddy symbolism of Ponchielli’s Dance of the Hours.

On the one hand, most of the vignettes tell a core story that sticks in one’s mind, particularly those who viewed it as a child: the romance and storm of The Pastoral Symphony, the traumatic dinosaur fight of The Rite of Spring, and especially Mickey’s most memorable escapade in The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. On the other hand, some more than others indulge in dancing colors and beautiful shenanigans that don’t really follow a linear narrative. (The occasionally psychedelic images led to the film’s newfound popularity in the drugged-up ‘60s.) I’m not always fond of “art for art’s sake,” but the ways in which Disney complemented the music with his fluid and captivating animation are nothing short of genius.

Though some early music critics objected to Disney’s additions to their favorite opuses, most of the pieces of music used owe much of their iconic status to the images Disney so expertly provided. Disney had wanted to continue Fantasia in subsequent years with further sequences set to various other works, and it’s a shame that the film’s initial unprofitability left that plan unfeasible (though several reissues over the years have propelled it to both considerable fame and revenue). I would have liked to have seen his take on Sibelius’s Finlandia, Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons, Holst’s The Planets, or Strauss’s Also sprach Zarathustra (before Stanley Kubrick got his hands on it for 2001: A Space Odyssey).

There are a few images some parents might balk at, such as the Stegosaurus death, the centaur women’s nudity, and the frighteningly demonic Night on Bald Mountain, but nothing detracts from the overall majesty of Disney’s work. The final piece is probably the most effective, particularly the contrast between Bald Mountain and Ave Maria and the quiet but implacable dominance of the latter over the former. It may not be his most entertaining, but Fantasia is Disney at his most poetic.

 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

251 Followers and Counting

#66: Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)

18 Tuesday Nov 2014

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(Best sung to “I’ve Got a Golden Ticket”)
 
Charlie has little reason to
Hope for a bit of luck anew,
But then golden tickets, just a few,
Make their abrupt debut.
 
He dreams of a golden ticket,
Even as four other dreams come true.
 
Suddenly golden hopes arise;
Charlie receives a chance to see
Old Willy Wonka’s big surprise,
His chocolate factory.
 
Along with four other winners,
Charlie is shown wonders one can chew.
 
As they are led from room to room,
Four rotten brats near meet their doom,
And Charlie is the last one.
Even though Wonka tries him still,
Charlie’s sweet heart imparts goodwill,
And suddenly, the testing is done.
He finds that he’s won!
 
Though all the other children fell,
Charlie has proven he is right
For Wonka’s secrets him to tell,
To everyone’s delight.
 
Because of that golden ticket,
Charlie is fulfilled and flying high,
And Willy Wonka’s found the apple of his eye.
_____________
 

My earlier review of Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory essentially stated that Burton gets nearly everything right, except Willy Wonka; the original Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory gets nearly everything right, including Willy Wonka. The classic children’s musical doesn’t have the visuals or the polished look of Burton’s remake, but it has the same wonky, daftly absurd combination of humor and heart that made Roald Dahl’s book such a success.

Though I actually prefer now Freddie Highmore’s Charlie, Peter Ostrum is still admirable as the lone good apple of the bunch, and his relationship with Jack Albertson’s Grandpa Joe is more familial and evident than in the remake, possibly due to the absence of Mr. Bucket. All of the children are appropriately detestable in different ways, with Julie Dawn Cole as Veruca Salt being the most insufferable, and their comeuppances are all the more satisfying for their impudence. Of course, the star of the picture (aside from Charlie) is Willy Wonka himself, and Gene Wilder is perfect as the titular candy maker, even though Dahl had preferred Spike Milligan for the role. Whereas Johnny Depp’s Wonka displayed peculiarities more disturbing than endearing, Wilder spouts classical quotations and jumps between languages effortlessly, playing the candy man as eccentric and only occasionally trending toward insane. Granted, that boat ride is downright creepy (a chicken’s head being cut off? really?), but the rest of Wonka’s antics have a fun weirdness which, as Charlie says, is not necessarily bad. Wilder captures that ideal gray area between sanity and insanity that a character like Willy Wonka requires (and that Johnny Depp couldn’t quite attain), though I would have liked some indication that the bratty kids were indeed all right, as the book and remake did.

Roald Dahl himself despised the film’s changes to his book, and though I agree that the “fizzy lifting drinks” part was unnecessary and detracted from Charlie’s natural goodness, I think that Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory still does his work justice (of course, purely from a reader’s standpoint). Various annoying habits are properly skewered, such as gum-chewing, gluttony, and television addictions, while Charlie’s decency is allowed to shine and be rewarded. The sheer imagination of Dahl’s book is brought to colorful life in the chocolate room sequence; who wouldn’t want to cavort through those edible fields? Though Dahl’s own songs from the book are omitted (and later utilized in Burton’s remake), Willy Wonka’s Oscar-nominated soundtrack is full of memorable ditties that live on from childhood, reaching high points with “I’ve Got a Golden Ticket” and “I Want It Now.”

Other films may have appealed to Dahl’s odd sensibilities more, such as Matilda, James and the Giant Peach, The Fantastic Mr. Fox, or Burton’s take on the Chocolate Factory, but none are quite as delectably appealing as this first Dahl film adaptation. Willy Wonka has only grown in popularity over the years, becoming somewhat of a cult film, and continues to be a scrumdiddlyumptious delight for young and old.

Best line: (Mr. Salt, boarding the Wonkatania) “Ladies first, and that means Veruca.”   (Grandpa Joe, to Charlie) “If she’s a lady, I’m a Vermicious Knid.”

 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

249 Followers and Counting

#67: Paulie (1998)

17 Monday Nov 2014

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Who knows what the caged bird feels inside?
If you ask him kind, he may speak his mind.
Little Paulie once was a speaking guide
For his dear Marie, who was too tongue-tied,
But her parents sent him away confined.
He refused to fly, though he missed her so,
And was passed along to and fro.
 
When old Ivy purchased this garrulous bird,
She taught him manners and served his quest
To find Marie, though her sight was blurred,
And he served her too with his every word
Till his search compelled him to soar out west.
Though his owners changed while he still was free,
He dreamed of his dear Marie.
 
Eventually found by an institute,
Paulie found that speech was a gift and curse,
For a wrong word led to a new dispute
That resigned the bird to a dark cage, mute…
Till at last there arrived one glad to converse,
And his aid allowed him again to roam.
The caged bird found his home.
___________________
 

Paulie is yet another example of the unique power of the “Meet ‘em and Move On” sub-genre. The genre can apply to animals just as much as people, and following Paulie on his cross-country trek is like watching Forrest Gump as a parrot.  This was yet another Childhood Tearjerker that tugged at my callow heartstrings from beginning to end. Told mostly in flashback, Paulie’s story depicts how he learned from and touched each of his previous owners, both positively and negatively, and how the unique property of speech can indeed be a double-edged sword.

The cast is made up mostly of secondary character actors, such as Tony Shalhoub as Russian janitor and listener Misha Belenkoff, Cheech Marin as Hispanic parrot trainer Ignacio, Hallie Eisenberg (Jesse’s sister; funny how he played a parrot in Rio) as young Marie, Bruce Davison (Senator Kelly from X-Men) as guileful Dr. Reingold, and Jay Mohr as both small-time crook Benny and the titular conure himself. Interestingly, Bill Cobbs shows Misha around the lab early on, a scene reminiscent of the beginning of Night at the Museum, in which Cobbs again played an aged night watchman. Gena Rowlands steals the film’s middle section with her mannerly role as Ivy. Paulie’s interactions with her and Marie are undeniably sweet, and even when he’s sidetracked or indulges in a “fowl mouth,” we’re always rooting for him to reach his beloved owner, like a modern-day Lassie.

Many films have featured lovable animal protagonists, ranging from dogs, cats, pigs, horses, and even mice, but birds are much harder to develop a connection with than mammals. With both real birds and an occasional puppet, Paulie infuses such personality into the little green parrot, naïve yet wise-cracking, innocent yet smart aleck, that he truly seems like a person. His situation in the institute even touches upon the unfairness of misusing a sentient animal, if such a creature were ever to emerge. I’m more of a cat person, but if any film could make me consider a bird as a pet, it’s Paulie.

Best line: (Paulie, as Misha is urging him to explain his circumstances) “It’s a long story.”  (Misha) “I’m Russian. I like long stories!”

 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

247 Followers and Counting

#68: Home Alone (1990)

16 Sunday Nov 2014

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The McCallister household is full
Of family; no moment is dull.
It’s Christmas; they’re stressed,
And young Kevin’s a pest
And makes one and all miserable.
 
He wishes they’d all go away,
And when they wake up the next day,
They rush to vacation
And, leaving the nation,
Find Kevin just happened to stay.
 
As Mom is consumed with concern
And does all she can to return,
Her son, home alone,
With no parents or phone,
Is thrilled with this fortunate turn.
 
While Kevin has fun and makes merry,
Two cat burglars named Marv and Harry
Are eyeing with guile
His rich domicile,
But Kevin is gleefully wary.
 
Right after the boy comes to terms
With a man who benignly confirms
The importance of kin,
Kevin leaves to begin
Preparing for two burglar worms.
 
With booby traps set everywhere,
He catches the pair unaware.
The bumbling knaves
And the vengeance each craves
Are no match for his every snare.
 
The McCallister home is defended.
And family rapport is commended.
Our kid’s reunited
With family delighted,
Though his fight with crooks isn’t ended.
________________
 

Home Alone was one of the most successful live-action comedies ever made, topping the box office for twelve weeks and making its combination of charm and torture a holiday staple. Written by John Hughes and directed by Mrs. Doubtfire’s Chris Columbus, the now-classic Christmas movie made young Macaulay Culkin a household name and (hopefully) prevented countless parents from neglecting to bring along their children on vacation.

The film doesn’t start off like the kind of film I would enjoy. Kevin and his relatives are realistically bratty, with little reason to like any of them. Once he is actually left alone, the plot improves dramatically. What kid hasn’t wanted the whole house to themselves and the freedom to do what they want when they want how they want? Yet Kevin turns out to be surprisingly responsible, in contrast to his inattentive mother (and father), who spends the rest of the film mostly making up for her lapse in judgment by displaying sympathetic, if pointless, worry for her abandoned child. Luckily, though, the blame isn’t all on her: Kevin is by no means an angel and his admittance of such allows him some proper remorse. His conversation with Old Man Marley (Roberts Blossom) in the church perfectly addresses both of their familial conflicts. (Incidentally, the scene begins with my VC’s favorite Christmas song, “O Holy Night,” and ends with mine, “Carol of the Bells.”)

Of course, much of the film’s credit should go to Daniel Stern and Joe Pesci as Marv and Harry, the two bumbling thieves who deserve a place amongst memorable comedic odd couples. Their persistence is matched only by their stupidity in walking into trap after trap set by the devious boy of the house. Pesci’s constant muttering of “Razzin, frazzin…” is hilarious (yes, he amuses me), while the spider scene proves Stern as one of the great male screamers of our time. Plus, for added comedy, Hughes brought along John Candy from Planes, Trains, and Automobiles for a small but humorous role as a kindhearted polka bum.

John Williams’ carol-infused score is also outstanding, and his own little noel, “Somewhere in My Memory,” deserves a spot in my End Credits Song Hall of Fame. Only the sweet closing scenes are actually set on Christmas, but the whole film illustrates the Christmas season, with films like It’s a Wonderful Life (in French!) and Miracle on 34th Street included for good measure. Also, it thankfully doesn’t shy away from the sacred aspects of Christmas, including a crèche scene, a church, and themes of forgiveness. All in all, Macaulay Culkin’s first major role was his best, yet another Christmas film that my family revisits year after year.

Best line: (Kate McCallister/Mom) “Tell me, have you ever gone on vacation and left your child home?”
(Polka king Gus, after a pause) “No, no. But I did leave one at a funeral parlor once. Yeah, it was—was terrible too. I was all distraught and everything, you know, the wife and I, and we left the little tyke there in the funeral parlor all day. All day. You know, we went back at night, when you know, we came to our senses, and there he was, apparently he was there alone all day with the corpse. Yeah, he was okay, you know, after six, seven weeks he came around and started talking again… But he’s okay. You know, they get over it; kids are resilient like that.”
(Kate) “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”
 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

247 Followers and Counting

#69: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)

15 Saturday Nov 2014

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(Can be sung to “Topsy Turvy”)
 
Here it is—a classic turned to cartoon gem!
Gypsies are the group Parisians most condemn;
Frollo has ambitions to extinguish them,
But one night he finds a baby boy.
Guilted into caring for this malformed thing,
Frollo calls him Quasimodo, who must ring
Notre Dame’s colossal bells, diminishing his joy.
 
Quasimodo dreams of being free to leave
Out among the people on a feast day’s eve.
Though he knows such impudence would surely grieve
Frollo, he still dares to go outside.
Esmeralda, quite the beauty, leaves all wowed
Until Quasimodo is with fame endowed.
Jubilation turns to torture as the crowds deride.
 
Esmeralda’s act of grace makes Frollo rage.
Notre Dame becomes her grand, imposing cage,
Until Quasimodo helps her disengage,
Much to Frollo’s fatuous chagrin.
As his own obsession sees all Paris burn,
Frollo writes off Captain Phoebus’ clear concern.
Quasi warns the Gypsies but lets Frollo learn and win.
 
Frollo passes doom upon the girl with lust,
But the hunchback rescues her ere she combusts.
He announces sanctuary, as he must,
And defends the church from those outside.
Frollo gets his just desserts when he strikes first;
Quasimodo, even though his face is cursed,
Finds acceptance as the insults are reversed with pride.
_______________
 

Sometimes cited as a sign of the waning of the Disney Renaissance, The Hunchback of Notre Dame was actually an astounding reminder of the skill and power of Disney animation. Considering how different the source material was from Disney’s usual fare, it’s a wonder that Hunchback even got off the ground, and its uncharacteristically dark themes set it apart from most of their canon. Though some detractors accused the film of watering down Victor Hugo’s original novel, Disney’s Hunchback succeeds in capturing the power of his immortal story in a compelling package that both kids and adults can enjoy on different levels.

I’ve always loved animation that can entertain a mature audience without dwelling on mature content. Hunchback’s themes include prejudice, compassion, genocide, obsession, damnation, eternal damnation, and unrequited love, and as a kid, hardly any of that registered in my mind. I could recognize the presence of more sophisticated topics and emotions, but I simply enjoyed the music, the humor, and the more facile lessons. More recent viewings have revealed layers I never noticed before. For instance, Disney has a long history of comic relief sidekicks, yet here they feature the humorous gargoyles as Quasimodo’s straightforward allies, as well as imaginary friends that reflect his long solitude and inner psyche. Thus, though they are the most kid-focused aspect of the film, they serve a purpose that is not entirely out of step with the serious narrative.

The film’s most outstanding aspect is Alan Menken’s music, possibly his greatest Disney score ever. While other films’ songs may be catchier or more charming, Menken has crafted an illustrious, flowing score that can join those few other musicals that deserve to be christened “glorious.” The singers are also well-cast, particularly Paul Kandel as narrator Clopin, whose high note on “The Bells of Notre Dame” instantly provokes goosebumps. Tom Hulce’s soft voice lends sincerity to Quasimodo’s “Out There” and “Heaven’s Light,” while Tony Jay’s inimitably low tones endow Frollo with austerity and menace such that I’m surprised I haven’t recognized his baritone more often. Frollo is arguably the most villainous of Disney baddies; rather than fratricide or megalomania, he is willing to damn an entire city and his immortal soul for his own lustful pursuits, hauntingly presented in the song “Hellfire.” The non-singing roles are also memorable, including Demi Moore as Esmeralda (different singing voice) and Kevin Kline as the instantly likable Phoebus (yet another positive change from the novel).

In addition to the music, the hand-drawn animation is stunning, with a crispness absent from most other Disney features. The attention to shadows contributes to the animation’s realism, and the crowd scenes are remarkably detailed and impressive, especially Quasimodo’s rescue of Esmeralda.

The film also doesn’t completely sugarcoat its subject matter; an entirely crowd-pleasing ending would have paired Quasimodo with Esmeralda, but though she doesn’t die as in the book, the filmmakers leave the film serious enough to not allow Quasi’s every dream to come true. It’s a surprising move for a company that rarely leaves its leads without companionship, though they left the unrealistic romance to a lesser sequel. The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a singular achievement in book-to-musical adaptation, and I’d like to see if such a feat could be pulled off with some other grim classic. Since The Phantom of the Opera, Oliver Twist, and Les Miserables have already been taken, perhaps The Count of Monte Cristo or A Tale of Two Cities? You never know.

Best line: (Laverne, the gargoyle) “Quasi, take it from an old spectator. Life’s not a spectator sport. If watchin’ is all you’re gonna do, then you’re gonna watch your life go by without ya.”

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

245 Followers and Counting

#70: Big (1988)

14 Friday Nov 2014

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When 12-year-old Josh wishes he could be big,
At some wishing booth called Zoltar,
He wakes up as Tom Hanks, no longer a twig,
But a 30-year-old. How bizarre!
 
He’s kicked from his home for his strange adult mug
But gets help from Billy, his friend.
Josh moves to the city, in need of a hug,
And wants this whole nightmare to end.
 
Yet since he is big, he must get a job now
And be an adult, more or less.
Becoming a cubicle worker somehow,
He and Billy find fun in distress.
 
A tuneful encounter with one of his bosses
Propels him ease by next morn.
He’s paid to test toys, and forgetting his losses,
Enjoys a girlfriend and small corn.
 
But Josh is a kid, Billy has to remind him;
This life is not where kids belong.
In searching for Zoltar, they finally find him,
And Josh sees that he’s in the wrong.
 
As home he returns, he has time still to bid
Goodbye to his girlfriend once more.
His second small wish sends him back to a kid;
His life as a grown-up is o’er.
_________________
 

Among a slew of age-changing films in and around 1988, Big was certainly the greatest, largely due to the skill and watchability of Tom Hanks. Many actors have inhabited more child-life roles, typically for comedic effect, but Hanks expertly balances boyish exuberance with youthful anxieties. The scene in which he cries alone in a seedy hotel is the best example of why he deserved his first Oscar nomination for Best Actor.

To complement Hanks’s star power, there’s also Elizabeth Perkins as his girlfriend Susan, who is oddly attracted to how different Josh is from other men, and John Heard as his immature rival for her affections, who at times makes one wonder “Who’s the kid again?” Mercedes Ruehl evokes the loss of Josh’s grieving mother, and I love how Josh tries to comfort her with his hasty rendition of “The Way We Were.” (“Scattered pic-tures…”)

Though Josh’s rise to success is unrealistically easy (though an enchanted wish-granting carnival booth isn’t exactly realistic anyway), and I have no idea how he was hired with a fake social security number by a major company, Tom Hanks is so winsome and delightful as he leaps on trampolines and gnaws at baby corn that most flaws fall by the wayside. There was some disagreement on how to end the film, namely whether Susan should join Josh in becoming a child. While such a leap of love would have borne a continued hope of romance, I tend to side with how the original film concludes. Susan’s refusal is not only more realistic, but it also avoids further unanswered questions like who her guardian would be and how she as an adult would function as a little girl again. It’s one of those matters that seems right to the heart but not the head.

Replete with classic moments of humor, like the piano duet at FAO Schwarz or Josh’s reaction to caviar, Big remains director Penny Marshall’s best comedic film. 13 Going on 30, a female remake starring Jennifer Garner, captured some of the spirit of Big but could not compare with the original’s charm. Thanks to Tom Hanks’s equal facility with comedy and drama, Big was and is a big success.

Best line: (Josh’s mother, over the phone, thinking Josh is his own kidnapper) “You have my son?”
(Josh) “Yes.”
(His mother) “Look, if you touch one hair on his head, I swear I will spend the rest of my life making sure you suffer.”
(Josh) “Wow, thanks.”
 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

245 Followers and Counting

#71: Jumanji (1995)

13 Thursday Nov 2014

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Son of a shoe mogul, young Alan Parrish
Finds a board game
With the power to maim,
Jumanji its name.
Sucked into jungles with no one to cherish,
He disappears
And meets his worst fears
For twenty-six years.
 
Peter and Judy, two modern-day youths,
Start playing as well,
And the game raises hell
They cannot dispel.
Alan is freed and must face the hard truths:
His family did fade;
The town has decayed,
But the game must be played.
 
Finding his old playmate Sarah, they try
To finish the game,
And dangers untame
Distract from their aim.
Perils abound, which they cannot defy,
Hunters, stampedes,
And overgrown weeds,
But no one concedes.
 
Nearing the end, Alan rolls the last dice.
He wins as a man,
And according to plan,
All is as it began.
Jumanji must go, that unbearable vice,
But Alan’s set right,
And his future is bright,
Yet the game’s not done quite.
_________________
 

Jumanji was one of my favorite family films while growing up. Based on Chris Van Allsburg’s picture book with a much simpler story, it succeeds in summoning the same magic that highlights Van Allsburg’s books, namely the “what if” quality of fantasy. What if a giant locomotive stops in the middle of the street outside one’s door on Christmas Eve? What if one’s house were transported into outer space? What if monkeys and stampedes were to suddenly appear in one’s home? Yet Jumanji also boasts an entertaining story to accompany the images, with much more enjoyable characters than its science fiction follow-up Zathura.

Of course, in light of his recent death, all Robin Williams films now hold a touch of sadness, but Jumanji allowed him a (mostly) serious role that was still accessible to the child audience. Though the idea of being sucked into a board game has a silly quality that is touched on, Williams depicts the realistic loss and loneliness which someone in that position would necessarily endure. Bonnie Hunt is also endearing as his traumatized friend Sarah, while a young Kirsten Dunst and Bradley Pierce play Judy and Peter, the only players from the original book. Just as Hans Conried voiced both Mr. Darling and Captain Hook in Disney’s Peter Pan, Jonathan Hyde plays both Alan’s father and his confrontational hunter Van Pelt, with a much more obvious parental parallel between the two. David Alan Grier is also hilarious as Officer Carl, whose reactions to the ever-increasing damage to his car are priceless.

The computer-generated imagery was still cutting-edge for 1995 but sadly hasn’t completely aged well. Though the jungle mayhem is still impressive and entertaining, it’s all clearly effects, particularly the monkeys and the giant spider puppets. Even so, children are more forgiving of such things; as a kid and adult, I still enjoyed every minute of this film (except that spider part—ugghhh).

Offering excitement, humor, and a bearded Robin Williams for all ages, Jumanji is a rollicking good time. As the chaos piles up, so does the danger, as well as the fun for those of us not experiencing it. And aside from the endorsement of child/parent harmony, the film also teaches an important moral: never play with strange items found buried and locked in an ancient chest. Lesson learned.

Best line: (gun store owner, when the pith-helmeted Van Pelt is eagerly purchasing a replacement weapon) “You’re not a postal worker, are you?”

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

245 Followers and Counting

#72: Somewhere in Time (1980)

12 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

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The playwright Richard Collier
On the eve of his success,
Is met by an old woman
In emotional distress.
 
She gifts him with a watch
And an entreaty to return,
Then disappears to die that night,
And why he can’t discern.
 
Years later, Richard takes a drive
And finds the Grand Hotel,
An antique venue lost in time
With friendly personnel.
 
He notices a photograph
Of beauty unsurpassed:
Elise McKenna, actress,
And the woman he saw last.
 
Obsessed with her expression,
He does research on a dime
And is convinced that, with his mind,
He’ll travel back in time.
 
He does so with some effort;
With more, he wins her heart,
But Miss McKenna’s manager
Tries keeping them apart.
 
Their love grows ever stronger
And cannot be suppressed,
Until time’s rules divide them,
Leaving both of them depressed.
 
The broken hearts of Richard
And his sweet of decades past
End up uniting both of them
In timeless love at last.
________________
 

Yes, Somewhere in Time made me cry the first time. Time travel always has great potential as a story device, and allowing it to create tragic romance is a natural result. The film wasn’t particularly well-received at first, but over time has garnered a collection of avid fans, known officially as INSITE, the International Network of Somewhere in Time Enthusiasts, half of whom happen to be men. Thus, I’m not ashamed in the least to be touched by such a potentially sappy tearjerker.

Shedding his Superman persona from his previous film, Christopher Reeve plays hopeless romantic Richard Collier in possibly the most moving performance of his career. It may sound corny, but fate seems to guide him to his true love’s photo, driving him to zealously search for information about her and how he may connect with her. Some might consider this obsessive, but the all-consuming promise of romance excuses such complaints. When he finally reaches 1912, love grows naturally but quickly as he makes himself irresistibly charming to Miss McKenna, played by Jane Seymour, as always the epitome of feminine elegance. Christopher Plummer portrays her possessive manager, whose intentions are more benign and complex than a typical villain, though no less domineering. At times, the rather simple script could have fallen flat in the hands of lesser actors, but all three leads are distinguished.

As far as time travel goes, there are no time machines, police boxes, or DeLoreans; Richard leaps through decades with… hypnosis, which is not the most convincing of methods but still carries the requisite paradoxes and unforeseen complications. In addition to the dripping romanticism, it manages some quiet humor while avoiding the typical fish-out-of-water scenarios. Shot predominately on Michigan’s Mackinac Island, the cinematography is also lovely, often reminiscent of a faded watercolor painting. Then there’s the haunting music that sticks in one’s head long after the credits roll. Somewhere in Time did for Rachmaninoff what Ghost did for “Unchained Melody”; the flowing strains of Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini immediately conjure up the film’s emotions.

I am always deeply touched by reunions, by friends and loved ones meeting again after heartache on both sides. It is these homecomings that often enhance the endings of “Meet ‘em and Move On” films; they’re what make difficult films like Slumdog Millionaire and The Color Purple worth watching. The “together forever” kind of conclusion particularly has a special power that reinforces the tearjerker status of stories like Wuthering Heights, Grave of the Fireflies, and Titanic. Somewhere in Time’s final scene is just so depressingly romantic that it still brings my VC to tears. Simply beautiful.

Best line: (Richard, with a mock pick-up line that I must try sometime) “Young woman, if you do not walk with me, I shall go mad! Positively insane, and do crazed things to myself!”

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

245 Followers and Counting

#73: Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)

11 Tuesday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

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James Kirk’s now an admiral, doling out tests,
And rests in the comfort and peace he detests.
He’s told that he should not have taken promotions
That left him too high up to ply the space oceans.
 
Meanwhile, pal Chekhov is helping to seek
A dead planet needed for mankind to tweak.
The Genesis project could give it new life,
But he just finds Khan, who is mourning his wife.
 
The vengeful space criminal has one intent:
To murder Jim Kirk, who marooned him and went.
He brainwashes Chekhov and lures Enterprise,
But Kirk’s ingenuity staves off demise.
 
Kirk finds Carol Marcus and David (his son!),
The founders of Genesis and its dry run.
Though Khan believes he has entrapped his old foe,
Kirk’s one step ahead, as he was years ago.
 
Their final showdown in a nebula, blind,
Sees Kirk supersede Khan’s superior mind,
But desperate revenge is a dangerous threat,
And only Spock’s sacrifice saves, with regret.
 
The Genesis process creates a new sphere,
And Kirk sees his friend to the final frontier.
They bid him farewell to the Genesis planet.
The franchise can’t possibly carry on, can it?
_________________
 

Some people measure the success of a Star Trek film by how memorable the villain is (which doesn’t work for The Voyage Home, incidentally), but The Wrath of Khan is easily the best on that scale. Ricardo Montalban’s fusion of menace and intelligence is the highlight of the film, and not even Benedict Cumberbatch could quite match his vengeful charisma.

Revenge is one of the best motivators for a villain, but it’s difficult to pull off effectively. The setup that fuels the villain’s rage is typically either rushed through or else merely implied, but Star Trek’s status as a television series put its films in a unique position to revisit old adversaries already long-established. Like Kirk, audiences hadn’t seen Khan for fifteen years, and it was easy to imagine how his hatred for his forsaker must have grown over the years, especially with the death of his wife (I assume, Lieutenant McGivers from “Space Seed”). Though he and Kirk never actually meet face to face, their tense exchanges, calling each other “my old friend,” far surpass any other hero/villain relationship from the franchise.

Of course, the other game-changer that Wrath of Khan threw at audiences (other than the revelation of Kirk’s son) was the death of a main cast member, and not just any member, but Mr. Spock himself. Leonard Nimoy actually wanted his character to die, and though it seemed like it could have been the end of Star Trek, the filmmakers set up little clues that a sequel was certainly feasible. Luckily, the promise of the director’s chair lured Nimoy back to his pointy-eared persona, and so far he’s the only original cast member to still be playing his alter ego by appearing in J. J. Abrams’s reboot. (By the way, I had totally forgotten that the 2009 Star Trek’s inclusion of the Kobayashi Maru test and Kirk’s cheating was drawn straight from Wrath of Khan; now that’s how to please your fan base.)

True, the special effects aren’t all that impressive, even with a groundbreaking CGI sequence detailing the Genesis effect, but The Wrath of Khan was such a huge improvement over the dreadfully plodding first film that it effectively re-energized the entire Star Trek empire. If not for this film, there probably would have been no more films, no Next Generation, no Deep Space Nine, no Voyager! For Trek fans everywhere, Khan’s rancor served as a reminder of just how entertaining and indelible Star Trek could be.

Best line (which is echoed in his death scene): (Spock) “In any case, were I to invoke logic, logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”
(Kirk) “Or the one.”
(Spock) “You are my superior officer. You are also my friend. I have been and always shall be yours.”
 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

243 Followers and Counting