Category Archives: Movies

#38: Chariots of Fire (1981)

17 Wednesday Dec 2014

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‘Twere many fine names
In the Olympic games,
The runners and sprinters who dashed for their fames.
With wings on their feet
That few others could beat,
They strove in 1924 to compete.
 
At Cambridge, a Jew
Who did not run but flew,
One Abrahams trained to be best in each queue.
He ran to resist
Those who were prejudiced,
And friends thought no faster young man could exist.
 
In Scotland, however,
One man would endeavor
To run to please God, but on Sundays, he’d never.
This brave Eric Liddell,
Whom none could belittle,
Held faith and resolve which a king could not whittle.
 
They all took their place
In the glorious race,
The high point of lives, formed by training and grace.
Each swift Englishman
Did their utmost and ran,
For medals, for country, for God, or for clan.
______________________
 

The Best Picture of 1981, Chariots of Fire captures not only two moving stories of talent and trial but also the thrill at the core of a race. The true accounts of Harold Abrahams and Eric Liddell reveal their similar skills as athletes and disparate purposes in employing them.

Ian Charleson is eminently devout Eric Liddell, who balances his desire to run by dedicating his victories to God’s service. I love his assertion that he feels God’s pleasure as he utilizes his talents; I sometimes feel the same when writing. Whereas his sister in the film insists he focus solely on God, anything can be used to give our Creator glory, whether it be peeling a potato or running a foot race. As Liddell runs, flailing his arms about in a wholly unorthodox manner, at times it is as if the Lord takes hold of him, pushing him faster than any contender would expect. Even so, he remained solid in his convictions concerning his Sunday heat. Beyond running for God, his refusal to compromise was disseminated to the world as a faithful stand that was ultimately rewarded. Abrahams, on the other hand, played by Ben Cross, runs with all the determination of a man who dares never lose. His desire is not to please God, fans, or even himself, but to prove his merit in the face of discrete anti-Semitism. When he sees Liddell run firsthand, he strives even harder, unable to cope with not being the best. Yet even when he wins his victorious Olympic medal, he’s just as overwhelmed by the weight of victory as by the weight of defeat. Ian Holm is likewise outstanding as his trainer Sam Mussabini, looking considerably older than in Alien just two years prior. By depicting both of these runners, as well as their comrades who run more or less for the fun of it, the film serves as a well-rounded view of this promising generation of young athletes.

Chariots of Fire is exceptional in its Oscar-winning electronic score by Vangelis and its painterly cinematography. The film abounds with scenes worthy of being hung on the wall, not least of which is the opening jog along the beach with the man and boy watching from a distance. Though the film is rather slow overall, its artistry is wondrous to behold. Speaking of slow, it also is notable for the frequent use of slow motion, which realizes the suspension of time during a race and how a contest lasting mere seconds can become a deep-seated memory of joy or grief. In the case of Liddell, the protracted running seems to portray a miracle in progress, especially with the transcendent accompanying music.

A film that well-deserved its four Academy Awards, Chariots of Fire is the greatest film about track and one of the finest sports films ever made, choosing the contemplative furor of a race over the energetic action of a ball game. Also, for Star Trek fans, Ben Cross’s appearance with Alice Krige (as his fiancée Sybil) affords the unlikely sight of Sarek dating the Borg Queen. Implacable values like those of Eric Liddell are sadly harder to come by now than they were in 1924, but his stand for his beliefs continues to serve as an example to all who are called to compromise too far.

Best line: (Liddell, when accused of arrogance) “My arrogance, sir, extends just as far as my conscience demands.”

VC’s best lines: (Eric, to his sister) “I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

(Lord Cadogan, fed up with his decision not to run) “Don’t be impertinent, Liddell!”  (Eric) “The impertinence lies, sir, with those who seek to influence a man to deny his beliefs!”

 
Rank: 58 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

269 Followers and Counting

#39: The Blind Side (2009)

16 Tuesday Dec 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

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The young behemoth Michael Oher
Has led a life of silent woe.
For years he has been dumb and poor
With nowhere comforting to go.
 
But then one night, to his surprise,
A kind white woman lets him in,
Despite his color and his size,
And treats him like a next of kin.
 
He doesn’t know how to react
But still enjoys the change begun,
While Leigh Anne Tuohy can’t retract
The ever-growing kindness done.
 
Adopting Michael gradually,
She urges him to be a shield,
Protecting threatened family
And players on the football field.
 
Encouraged to perform defense,
Oher proves his talent with a block,
And soon the college heads commence
The offers that he join their flock.
 
He’s pushed by Leigh Anne toward Ole Miss,
Which raises questions of intentions.
Though Mike’s troubled by all this,
His trust in her subdues contentions.
 
Charity gave Michael Oher
A chance to play, prove, and protect.
When one looked harder than before,
There came a grace none would expect.
__________________
 

The Blind Side is the account of one “random act of kindness” that changed a life and a family forever. It’s also a film that seems to be loved or hated for different reasons.

I personally very much enjoy the uplifting true rags-to-riches tale, but others see what they want to see. Some view the narrative as a white savior story, an indictment on black communities which supposedly cannot rise from poverty without the intercession of benevolent white people. They see strong but mute Michael (played by Quentin Aaron) as an example of the pitiable street kid who can do nothing for himself until some altruistic white benefactor comes to his rescue. Others like me don’t interpret the film’s message as such. In addition to the main crux of the film, some can’t agree on the details too. Sandra Bullock’s performance as Leigh Anne Tuohy was lauded by most critics and earned her a Best Actress Academy Award, but my VC, who likes the rest of the movie, is irritated by her pushiness, audacity, and occasionally provocative attire, a personality type she finds abrasive.

As far as the first assertion, my opinion is as follows: Yes, Michael Oher’s story is conceivably a white savior tale, but those who see it as such are ignoring his contributions to the Tuohy family. As Leigh Anne says in the film, she’s not just changing his life; he’s changing hers, reminding her of what’s important and how blessings are meant to be shared. The film depicts the dangerous, gang-infused neighborhoods that claim so many youths, and as unfortunate as it is, such places do exist, hard-to-escape places that might have consumed Oher as well but for the kindness of strangers. While the Tuohys are shown as overall noble sponsors, their well-to-do world of Christian schools and over-priced restaurants does not escape some criticism for hypocrisy and discrimination. Rather, Leigh Anne’s contributions to Michael’s life open up her own views; she visits areas of town she’d never gone and feels unforeseen guilt at taking for granted the simple things that Michael has never possessed. The film even calls into question her potentially selfish reasoning for committing such a selfless act; like Dr. Treves in The Elephant Man, she wonders how good she truly is when she is clearly benefiting from her own charity. Though she is vindicated, it’s a fair point that other films might have glossed over.

For a film that endorses Christian charity, the acting and production values are top-notch, including cameos from multiple real-life university football coaches like Nick Saban and Lou Holtz. I admire Bullock’s brash, bold, and bossy performance as Mrs. Tuohy, even if it rubs my VC the wrong way. Tim McGraw impresses as a likable Mr. Tuohy, proving that not all singers are doomed to be poor actors, and Kathy Bates is excellent as always, playing Michael’s tutor Miss Sue. Quentin Aaron is perfect as Michael, though his one-note glumness makes me doubt his versatility in future roles. Also (Lost alert!), Kim Dickens, who played Sawyer’s girlfriend Cassidy on my favorite show, portrays Michael’s sympathetic teacher, who is nearly as admirable as Mrs. Tuohy in looking beyond her student’s apparent apathy to help him learn in his own way.

It may err on the controversial side, but The Blind Side is an inspirational family film that doesn’t skimp on the humor and sports action as well. (It wasn’t entirely clear to me, though, why Bullock’s narration connected Michael’s story to Lawrence Taylor; did anyone else understand that?) It’s also one of the few films with a heartwarming familial Thanksgiving scene that makes it ideal viewing for the last Thursday in November. Viewers often see what they want to see in certain films, and what I see in The Blind Side is a motivating challenge to assist and not give up on the underprivileged.

Best line: (Michael, in his end-of-school paper about “The Charge of the Light Brigade”) “But honor, that’s the real reason you either do something or you don’t. It’s who you are and maybe who you want to be. If you die trying for something important, then you have both honor and courage, and that’s pretty good. I think that’s what the writer was saying, that you should hope for courage and try for honor. And maybe even pray that the people telling you what to do have some, too.”

 
Rank: 58 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

268 Followers and Counting

#40: Babe (1995)

15 Monday Dec 2014

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(Can be sung to “If I Had Words”)
 
A pig is chosen as a contest prize
And won by a farmer to his surprise.
On Hoggett’s farm, Babe’s taught so far
To stick to her place and the way things are.
 
Adopted by the boss’s sheepdog Fly,
Babe helps out a duck who dares not comply.
Befriending sheep with her heart of gold,
Babe learns how the dogs keep the sheep controlled.
 
When Hoggett gives the friendly runt a chance
To aid with the sheep, Babe bids them advance.
She finds asking is always preferred,
And Hoggett is floored by his ordered herd.
 
He enters Babe in a dog competition
To lead sheep with her cordial disposition.
Though Babe is shocked at what pigs are for,
She chooses to serve the boss, as before.
 
As Hoggett leads his entry on the field,
The crowds laugh and jeer at what he’s revealed,
But when his pig leads each willing ewe,
Babe’s satisfied that what she did will do.
_________________
 

Exuding simple charm, Babe is one of the few modern family films to earn and be worthy of an Oscar nomination for Best Picture (E.T., Beauty and the Beast, The Blind Side, Up, and Toy Story 3 are the only others I can think of). As straightforward and appealing a fable as any Hollywood has produced, the film has a unique ability to appeal to children and adults on the same level, rather than including kiddie stuff solely for the kids and mature jokes only their parents would get.

Babe is pleasingly whimsical with its sneezing ducks and bucolic Hobbiton-like location, but also surprisingly blunt in how it depicts the true “purpose” of pigs and the reality of death. Babe may not understand the meaning of a meat truck or a shotgun, but the audience does, even impressionable young viewers. In creating lovable characters out of edible farm animals, the film succeeded in guilting many into a vegetarian lifestyle, including star James Cromwell, and though I myself still enjoy a good steak, it’s a decision I can certainly understand and respect, having seen this film.

Even with the truth of “the way things are,” the film is replete with unabashedly sweet moments: Fly’s comforting of Babe when she misses her mother, Babe’s comforting of Fly when she misses her pups, Hoggett’s musical comforting of Babe when she falls ill. Roscoe Lee Browne’s sapient narration highlights the film’s storybook quality, along with the intermittent chapter headings provided by a trio of mice who are high on Alvin and the Chipmunks.

James Cromwell earned a Best Actor nomination for his understated portrayal of laconic Farmer Hoggett, and it’s amazing that he can play the father of robotics or warp travel with the same skill as an outdated farmer who can barely operate a fax machine. Magda Szubanski milks some laughs as his overbearing wife, while the rest of the cast is mostly the talking animals. In addition to Christine Cavanaugh (the original Dexter from Dexter’s Laboratory) as naïve and innocent Babe, the standout voice actors are Miriam Margolyes as Fly and Hugo Weaving as Rex, the two dogs who assist Babe in her rise to stardom.

Though Babe failed to win most of its nominations (‘twas the year of Braveheart and Sense and Sensibility), it beat out Apollo 13 for the Best Visual Effects Oscar. Unlike the usual spectacle that earns that award nowadays, it won for the seemingly simple feat of granting the animals speech, at times using puppets, other times replacing their lower jaws and partial faces with CGI to create mouth movement. The result is subtle but impressive, and the animals are significantly more realistic than the more recent all-CGI attempts, like Marmaduke or Scooby Doo. In addition, the film’s orchestral score is lovely, dominated by a piece of Saint-Saëns’ Symphony No. 3 in C Minor. Scott Fitzgerald recorded the tune as the 1977 pop song “If I Had Words,” which is also prominent in the film; in fact, the mice’s rendition at the end deserves a place in my End Credits Song Hall of Fame.

Babe is the most notable proof that a G-rated family film can still be Oscar-worthy without the objectionable material so many awards contenders feel is necessary. While it and another famous pig story Charlotte’s Web probably turned off half a generation from pork, Babe is a shining example of a family film done right.

Best line: (the narrator, as Fly is trying to figure out if Babe was guilty of a crime) “Fly decided to speak very slowly, for it was a cold fact of nature that sheep were stupid, and there was nothing that could convince her otherwise.”  (Fly) “Please, someone tell me… what happened this morning.”  (the narrator again) “The sheep decided to speak very slowly, for it was a cold fact of nature that wolves were ignorant, and there was nothing that could convince them otherwise.”

VC’s best line:  (Farmer Hoggett) “That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.”

  
Rank: 58 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

268 Followers and Counting

#41: The Blues Brothers (1980)

15 Monday Dec 2014

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Fresh out of jail but in need of reform,
“Joliet” Jake, for whom odd is the norm,
Pairs up with his brother, one Elwood by name.
The orphanage where they grew up to such shame
Is led by a nun, who can’t pay a tax claim.
 
A visit to church has them both see the light:
They’ll rebuild the band to gain funds in the right.
From hotel bar has-beens who croon empty chairs
To one harried husband whose woman declares
He ought not to leave her, all members are theirs.
 
Their first gig does not go exactly as planned,
But soon they book just the right hall for their band.
The trouble is, as they’ve been driving around,
They’ve gained enemies who harass, hate, and hound,
Like Nazis and cowboys and cops, who surround.
 
They earn enough money so Elwood and Jake
Take off with a chaotic mess in their wake.
They flee through Chicago with foes on their tail,
And, due to their mission from God, they prevail.
Although luck runs out, the two still rock the jail.
_______________________
 

Based on the Saturday Night Live skit with a screenplay by Dan Aykroyd and director John Landis, The Blues Brothers is a one-of-a-kind comedy that never gets old. John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd are at the top of their games as the titular siblings, boasting an iconic suited presence and an unflappable demeanor, like the Men in Black without Agent J’s reactions. The two are absolutely hilarious as they endure being chased, shot at, and blown up with cool nonchalance, as if it’s all just another day in the life of a blues musician on the run.

Despite its simple storyline, the film contains many marvelous elements that work together to create a unique musical comedy. There’s the music, with plenty of blues, yes, but also tastes of gospel, soul, scat, rock, and even country/western (I still don’t understand the difference). There’s the comedy, with Belushi and Aykroyd shifting from laconic assurance to con-man determination and seeming to enjoy the ride just as much as we the audience. The film starts at a slow, measured pace, such as showing the inner mechanisms of a rising bridge rather than just the bridge, but builds in action and absurdity as villains, jokes, and vehicles begin to pile up with abandon. There are the car chases, long stretches of zealous mayhem that impart the same strange destructive satisfaction of a demolition derby. There are the cameos, with big musical names like James Brown, Aretha Franklin, John Lee Hooker, Ray Charles, and Cab Calloway, who don’t simply appear but contribute energetic performances and mostly serve a purpose in the plot as well. Other scene-stealing stars include Carrie Fisher as a scorned hit woman with an affinity for weaponry, John Candy as a police chief, and Henry Gibson as an Illinois Nazi with an over-the-top final scene, as well as other appearances by Twiggy, Chaka Khan, Frank Oz, and even Steven Spielberg. By the way, that kid that tries to steal the guitar in Ray Charles’ shop went on to play Argyle, the limousine driver in Die Hard.

All these elements that could potentially work on their own are only enhanced by their fun overlapping. My favorite parts would have to be Aretha Franklin’s “Think” and the excessive, car-ravaging climax, which is the definition of overkill. The film’s classic plotline has gone on to inspire many imitators, including The Muppets in 2011 and the best episode of Phineas and Ferb entitled “Dude, We’re Getting the Band Back Together.” It’s a shame that John Belushi met his end only two years after this, his most iconic role. Minus the frequent language, it remains his best film, a cult classic, and one of the funniest comedies of the ‘80s.

Best line: (Elwood Blues) “We’re on a mission from God.”

VC’s best line: (Jake, with fake accent, causing trouble in a fancy restaurant) “How much for the little girl? How much for the women?”  (father at next table) “What?”  (Jake) “Your women. I want to buy your women. The little girl, your daughters… sell them to me. Sell me your children!”

 
Rank: 58 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

268 Followers and Counting

#42: Jurassic Park (1993)

14 Sunday Dec 2014

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The wealthy John Hammond has spared no expense
To bring to life dinosaurs grand and immense
And keep them behind an electrified fence.
 
A paleontologist named Alan Grant
Is brought to the isle where dinos enchant,
Where life is contained and humility’s scant.
 
With Hammond’s grandchildren, a mathematician,
A lawyer impressed by old Hammond’s ambition,
And Grant’s colleague Ellie, he gains free admission.
 
The ultimate theme park to wow everyone,
Jurassic Park’s ready for its trial run,
Until an unfortunate hurricane’s begun.
 
When one fat employee gets greedy and flees
And shuts down the fences and power with ease,
The T. Rex emerges from out of the trees.
 
As Hammond and company try as they might
To reconnect power, resolving their plight,
The T. Rex wreaks havoc and death in the night.
 
The children and Alan survive as they can.
When raptors break loose, not according to plan,
The pile of dinosaur poop hits the fan.
 
The running and screaming begin all the more,
As raptors learn how they can open a door
And cause greater terror than eons before.
 
The park and the isle to nature are lost;
Survivors escape from it, though at a cost,
For life finds a way when the wrong lines are crossed.
__________________
 

Jurassic Park is without a doubt one of the most thrilling sci-fi action films ever, an original spectacle predating the devolution of the genre into numbing banality. Steven Spielberg’s adaptation of Michael Crichton’s novel was my first introduction to how terrifying a real dinosaur could be, as opposed to the more cartoonish depictions on television.

I can usually handle action films just fine, even when horror elements are involved like in Aliens, but Jurassic Park is one of only two films that I’ve caught myself actually on the verge of hyperventilating from the breathless danger and close calls (the climax of Oliver! was the other time; weird, right?). My mom had a similar reaction; she actually saw it in the theater while she was pregnant and got such an adrenaline rush that she was concerned for the baby me afterward. Assisted by one of John Williams’ most outstanding scores, Spielberg and company created some iconic edge-of-your-seat sequences that never fail to thrill, from the T. Rex’s initial attack with the vibrating water glass to its pursuit of the jeep to the raptors’ cat-and-mouse chase with the kids (a.k.a. someone’s in the kitchen with dinos).

Even if the characters exist solely to be attacked, threatened, or eaten, the actors succeed in creating memorable victims, from Jeff Goldblum as odd, wisecracking mathematician Ian Malcolm; Wayne Knight as slovenly mole Dennis Nedry; Samuel L. Jackson as ill-fated Mr. Arnold; Sam Neill and Laura Dern as two likable dinosaur experts; and Ariana Richards and Joseph Mazzello as the requisite children in danger, one an up-and-coming scream queen, the other an amateur paleo-aficionado. As starry-eyed entrepreneur John Hammond, Richard Attenborough illustrates the blind hunger for success in those who “spare no expense” to make their dreams realities, proving he was as skilled at acting as directing. As is typical, Goldblum gets the best lines and stood out enough to warrant his own return to the world of dinosaurs in the good but lesser sequel.

Unlike the sequels, which succumbed to the cliché of people in danger acting stupid, there’s an air of intelligence to the original thriller, aided by the plausible method by which the great lizards are said to have been resurrected. Though there’s a winsome subplot about Dr. Grant’s bonding with the kids, the film is overall a science fiction frightfest, one of the greatest ever made, a nonstop thrill ride that nonetheless captures the wonder of a lost world and concludes on a placid, breath-catching note. Ignoring fictional aliens and shapeshifters and whatnot, the real terrors belong to the past, and I can only hope that scientists never play God and reanimate the worst of carnivores. I’m cautiously optimistic about the upcoming Jurassic World; let’s hope it’s a return to the excellence of the original.

Best line: (John Hammond) “All major theme parks have delays. When they opened Disneyland in 1956, nothing worked!”  (Ian Malcolm) “Yeah, but, John, if The Pirates of the Caribbean breaks down, the pirates don’t eat the tourists.”

VC’s best line: (Ian Malcolm) “God creates dinosaurs. God destroys dinosaurs. God creates man. Man destroys God. Man creates dinosaurs.”  (Dr. Ellie Sattler) “Dinosaurs eat man. Woman inherits the earth.”

 
Rank: 58 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

268 Followers and Counting

#43: 84 Charing Cross Road (1987)

13 Saturday Dec 2014

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Dear Marks and Co,
It’s Helene Hanff still here,
Still waiting for books from the next hemisphere.
You know, Frank, I really can’t thank you enough
For putting up with my American guff
And sending me titles, antique and obscure,
Fulfilling my craving for literature.
The books I have gotten have brightened my soul,
And I’ve you to thank for it, Mr. Frank Doel.
One day, I’ll arrive in your English abode
And fawn over 84 Charing Cross Road.
Till then, I suppose British books must suffice,
The secondhand copies at such a low price,
The authors and poets that somehow contain
The joys of my innermost heart.
Love, Helene
 
Helene, we all love letters sent ‘cross the pond
From our favorite buyer, of whom we’re so fond.
Your package of food was, as always, a treat;
No grocer in London could hope to compete.
Your latest request, I am happy to say,
Was found at an auction and mailed yesterday.
I’m awed by the nearly two decades since you
First sent off a letter to our humble crew.
We’re all looking forward and feel much is owed
Whenever you reach us on Charing Cross Road.
Although no one here has as yet seen your face,
We count you a dear friend we could not replace.
The store’s none too dull, and we have you to thank;
No doubt that more books will be coming.
Love, Frank.
______________________
 

I have my VC to thank for introducing me to this beloved sleeper, based off the play and book detailing the real-life correspondence of writer Helene Hanff and Frank Doel, the manager of the antiquarian London bookshop Marks and Co at the titular address. Rife with literary love and charming incident, 84 Charing Cross Road is among my VC’s favorite films, placing somewhere in her top 20.

Anne Bancroft (whose husband Mel Brooks produced the film) excels as the down-to-earth Helene, who possesses an unusual taste for rare English literature. Due to her tight finances and lack of a Barnes and Noble in 1948 New York, she turns to a distant retailer, which would become a mainstay in her life. Helene is a witty, chain-smoking grandmother type, as endearing as she is sarcastic. Her admiration for British prose is evident from the start as the film name-drops authors and titles only ever heard in literary circles or English lit classes, such as Leigh Hunt, John Henry Newman, Pepys’ Diary, and Robert Louis Stevenson’s Virginibus Puerisque. For the most part, these out-of-print titles are taken for granted as mere names to most viewers but cherished treasures to a poor New York writer. Yet certain snatches of prose and poetry are quoted as well, allowing glimpses of the cerebral profundity that Helene finds so alluring. Likewise, across the Atlantic, Anthony Hopkins is ideally ordinary as Frank Doel, embodying British stoicism while retaining a subtle good humor. Two scenes with his wife Nora, played by Dame Judi Dench, imply an entire life of daily pattern and repetition, intermittently enlivened by a pithy letter from Helene. Though some characterize 84 Charing Cross Road as a romance, the letters they exchange are based entirely on their mutual love of books, even while they progress from “Yours faithfully” to “Love”; Helene has her career, and Frank has Nora, a seemingly cold marriage that nonetheless suggests a deep fondness. Still, the Oscar-worthy acting of Bancroft and Hopkins fosters a unique connection, despite their lack of shared scenes.

It’s likely that many people will find the epistolary plotline slow or tedious, but for those who enjoy literature, 84 Charing Cross Road is a treat. (I myself love shopping and owning books even more than actually reading them.) It’s a tribute to the old-fashioned book stores that have sadly gone out of style, like Marks and Co, which closed and is now a restaurant. The film also exemplifies the former power of written correspondence. Cell phones and email and social media are quite convenient, but no amount of texts or tweets could contain the power of nineteen years’ worth of affectionate mail. In addition, like Up, the film taps into how life’s greatest aspirations can be stalled by life itself. 84 Charing Cross Road is a quiet, unobtrusive story about the quiet, unobtrusive passion of two quiet, unobtrusive people, and I love it dearly.

Best line: (Helene) “I love inscriptions on flyleafs and notes in margins. I like the comradely sense of turning pages someone else turned and reading passages someone long-gone has called my attention to.”
 
VC’s best line: (Frank, quoting W. B. Yeats’ poem)
“Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”
 
 
Rank: 58 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

268 Followers and Counting

#44: National Treasure (2004)

11 Thursday Dec 2014

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The young Ben Gates was spellbound by
The Templar treasure legendary,
Which the Founders had to bury
Somewhere secret clues imply.
He teams with whiny Riley Poole
As well as Ian, a mercenary;
Though his father is contrary,
Ben keeps searching somewhere cool.
 
When Ben unearths the latest clue,
It hints a certain Declaration
Hides a map. This implication
Shows Ian’s lawless point of view.
Since Ian’s leaning toward the worst
And plans to “borrow” our foundation,
Ben decides its best salvation
Is for him to steal it first.
 
Though he and Riley do succeed
In borrowing the document,
They gain a girl without consent,
And Dr. Chase helps them proceed.
The parchment leads to other clues,
And though Ben’s dad knows where they went,
Still Ian guesses their intent.
The FBI as well pursues.
 
When Ben and Ian team again,
They find a crypt and secret stairs,
Which seem to sorely need repairs,
But Ian then abandons Ben.
Ben and his friends continue through,
Despite initial dead-end scares,
And soon the treasure room is theirs,
The end of every hidden clue.
_________________
 

National Treasure is probably the film I have seen, in whole or in part, more than any other movie. Every time it comes on television, it’s the perfect standby to turn to. It’s clean, amusing, exciting, and complex enough to deserve repeated viewings, an all-around satisfying helping of Indiana Jones-lite.

As the walking encyclopedia Benjamin Franklin Gates, Nicholas Cage spouts history, conspiracy, and American values, the kind of treasure-hunting idealist worth rooting for. His dutiful theft of the Declaration of Independence allows the audience to enjoy the gadgetry and cleverness of a heist film, while retaining the confidence that he’s still the good guy. This draws parallels with Jerry Bruckheimer’s other franchise Pirates of the Caribbean, as well as the “treason” of the Founding Fathers, as Ben feels called to attempt what is technically illegal to accomplish what is right. Justin Bartha is lovably nerdy as Riley, and Diane Kruger is intelligent and lovely as Dr. Abigail Chase. Sean Bean plays the cunning villain Ian and is actually a clever mental match for Ben, unlike Ed Harris in the sequel who let Ben do all the work. Other pleasing roles are filled by Jon Voight as Ben’s nay-saying father and Harvey Keitel as a Sam Gerard wannabe from the FBI. Also, (yet another Lost alert!) one of Keitel’s team is played by Mark Pellegrino, a.k.a. the mysterious island-dwelling Jacob.

The Mason conspiracy at the core of the treasure’s origins is hardly believable, but the film manages to still be a stimulating history lesson in its details, ranging from the cryptic clue from the Charlotte to the author of the Silence Dogood letters. These lesser-known facts lend credence to the film as a whole, though the chase for the treasure is such an entertaining thrill ride that any inaccurate or unrealistic elements can and should be ignored for fun’s sake. With plenty of twists and turns, both action-packed and perceptive, National Treasure is still a film I can see over and over.

Best line: (butcher lady in a market) “If you’re not a steak, you don’t belong here.”
(Abigail, hiding from Ian’s goon) “I’m just trying to hide from my ex-husband.”
(butcher lady) “Who, Baldie?”
(Abigail) “Yes.”
(butcher lady) “Honey, stay as long as you like.”
 
Rank: 58 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

268 Followers and Counting

#45: Ratatouille (2007)

10 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

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Remy’s a rat with a keen sense of smell,
Who loves not just eating but cooking as well.
His wish to create, though, attracts a backlash
From Django, his dad, who just wants to steal trash.
 
Their colony’s forced to abruptly take leave,
And Remy is lost in the sewers to grieve.
The voice of his hero, the late chef Gusteau,
Encourages Remy to rise from below.
 
He climbs to find Paris, the City of Lights,
And finds Gusteau’s restaurant, which thrills and excites.
When Remy tries fixing a soup in the kitchen,
He’s captured and threatened for trying to pitch in.
 
However, he’s freed by the awkward Linguini,
A garbage boy who couldn’t boil fettuccine.
He teams with the rat, who can pull on his hair
And cook from beneath the tall hat that chefs wear.
 
Though Skinner, the head chef, is sure there’s a rat
When some garbage boy begins cooking like that,
He can’t stop Linguini from gaining acclaim
And lifting Gusteau’s from its relative shame.
 
Linguini must face expectations concerned
And deal with celebrity he hasn’t earned,
While Remy must choose between kitchen and kin
And unearths a secret, to Skinner’s chagrin.
 
At last, when a critic named Ego arrives
To taste if Gusteau’s reputation survives,
The dish ratatouille reminds of his youth,
An odd revelation of taste and the truth.
 
Though Ego’s review is a tip of the hat,
Some people just can’t handle food from a rat,
But those who will open their mouths and their minds
Are thrilled by the flavors their tolerance finds.
_________________
 

Yet another Pixar masterpiece, Ratatouille is a film that could have so easily been a ridiculous failure with its absurd concept and rambling narrative, yet Brad Bird did it again, lending outstanding character development to Pixar’s ever-phenomenal animation.

Patton Oswalt will forever be Remy to me. (I know his real voice sounds exactly the same, having seen him on “Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”) As foolhardy as Remy’s dream seems, his vehement arguments with his dad and genuine talent for the culinary arts manifest a passion worth pursuing. Lou Romano is lovably incompetent as Alfredo Linguini (not the other way around), whom Remy uses as a living marionette. True, this is unrealistic, even for a film about talking rat chefs, but it leads to some of the funniest moments, as Remy perfects his follicular puppetry. The rest of the voice actors contribute exuberant performances, obviously enjoying their French accents, including Ian Holm as Chef Skinner, Janeane Garofalo as Colette, and Brad Garrett as Remy’s hero and imagined conscience Chef Gusteau. Plus, Peter O’Toole’s scathing articulations make Anton Ego a truly forbidding presence, albeit with an unforeseen soft side.

The animation is exceptional, one of Pixar’s most detailed depictions of the real world from the perspective of rat and human alike. My VC enjoys pointing out Remy’s adorable feet and sniffing nose, which make him considerably cuter than any rat I’ve seen. Textures and lighting are meticulously rendered, from the rushing water of the sewers to the distant, warm lights of the Eiffel Tower to the food itself, which is as delectable to the eye as to the characters’ taste buds. The atmosphere of Paris is further brought to life by the romantic score from Michael Giacchino. (Lost alert; in addition to scoring Pixar films like this, The Incredibles, and Up, Giacchino has also worked with J.J. Abrams on the Star Trek reboots and Lost.)

In addition to being laugh-out-loud with lethal thumbs and an abundance of slapstick humor, Ratatouille tackles some heavy material as well, including the morality of benign thievery, the expectations of parent and child, and the purpose and responsibility of criticism. Ego’s review, in particular, flew over my head upon my first viewing, but its profound message is a credit to the entire creative and analytical industry. Ratatouille also dares into less kiddy subject matter, such as legal scams, drunken interrogations, a character’s illegitimate child, and the realistic ramifications of a rat in the kitchen (which the film then ignores for the final gratifying scene).

Attempting much more than most animated films and succeeding in every area, Ratatouille is a film that can entertain both children and their parents on different levels. Heart-warming, funny, and appetizing, it was yet another feather in Pixar’s cap.

Best line: (Gusteau) “You must be imaginative, strong-hearted. You must try things that may not work, and you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul. What I say is true—anyone can cook… but only the fearless can be great.”

 
Rank: 58 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

267 Followers and Counting

#46: The Fugitive (1993)

09 Tuesday Dec 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

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When Dr. Richard Kimble found
His dear wife murdered on the ground,
He fought a fleeing one-armed man,
Who wrestled him before he ran,
But fingerprints in court don’t lie,
And Kimble’s sentenced soon to die.
 
A train wreck on his way to jail
Lets him escape to no avail.
The U.S. Marshal Sam Gerard
Dispatches every cop and guard
To search for Kimble on the lam,
Who leaps to freedom from a dam.
 
From then on, Kimble’s on the run
To try to prove to everyone
That he is innocent in fact
And find the killer that attacked.
Gerard is right behind the doc,
And both find secrets to unlock.
 
When Kimble finds the one-armed man
And learns the whole backstabbing plan,
He fights a fickle former friend,
Who tried to orchestrate his end.
Gerard, who claims he doesn’t care,
Brings Kimble in, the truth to share.
___________________
 

Probably the best film based on a TV series, The Fugitive is everything one could want in a chase film: cheer-worthy leads, awesome stunts and set pieces, and a fast-paced plot that keeps the audience and characters guessing.

Harrison Ford and Tommy Lee Jones are exceptional as fugitive Richard Kimble and his pursuer Sam Gerard. It may not be Ford’s most personable role, but his single-minded determination and unjust condemnation make him a worthy hero. Though he dares and survives some dangerous escapes, he never comes off as a superman; even when he’s ahead of the law, it’s just barely, and his risk of capture is always present, especially due to his more-than-worthy adversary. Tommy Lee Jones won Best Supporting Actor for his memorable role as the hardball U.S. marshal who matches wits with Kimble. Jones’s straight-faced delivery of unflinching demands and ornery impositions makes Gerard a dynamic presence, though at times I expected him to bring people’s attention to a certain neuralyzer. I thought Ford deserved a nomination too, but Jones’s performance was powerful enough to spawn the copycat sequel U. S. Marshals (see much lower on my list). Supporting players are well-cast, including Joe Pantaliano as Gerard’s right-hand man, Sela Ward as Kimble’s dead wife, Jeroen Krabbé as a seeming friend of Richard’s, Andreas Katsulas as the one-armed man, and (a long-in-coming Lost alert!) L. Scott Caldwell as Poole, the black lady on Gerard’s team (and Rose from my favorite show). Julianne Moore and Jane Lynch also found early roles as doctors Kimble encounters.

The awesome one-take train crash sequence alone is worth the price of admission, but the rest of the film is a tense pursuit that manages to be more engaging and interesting than any of the Bourne films. A hit with viewers and critics alike, The Fugitive only deepened Ford’s action persona and afforded Jones a well-deserved Oscar.

Best line: (Kimble, holding Gerard at gunpoint) “I didn’t kill my wife!”  (Gerard) “I don’t care!”

 
Rank: 57 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

265 Followers and Counting

#47: True Grit (1969, 2010)

08 Monday Dec 2014

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Mattie Ross’s father’s shot
By hired hand Tom Chaney.
She means to see the killer caught
And tried and hanged, just as he ought.
Although she’s young, afraid she’s not
But rather tough and brainy.
 
She needs a man who will commit
To show this fiend the noose.
The marshal she feels is most fit
Is Rooster Cogburn, who has grit
And gives in (when she doesn’t quit)
To chase this wild goose.
 
Accompanying them out west
Is Texas law LaBoeuf.
Though Rooster cares not for this guest,
They all continue on their quest
And follow hearsay when confessed
To tail the cutthroat thief.
 
When Mattie finds by accident
The man she has been hunting,
She’s captured by his gang hell-bent,
Who leave them both and can’t prevent
Tom Chaney’s murderous intent,
Until LaBoeuf’s confronting.
 
While Rooster fights Ned Pepper’s gang,
Miss Ross falls in a pit.
Tom Chaney has no need to hang,
But Mattie meets a rattler’s fang,
And Rooster, ere a fatal pang,
Yet proves his truest grit.
_________________
 

Easily my favorite western, True Grit is a story of perseverance and justice the likes of which I have yet to see in the genre. Based on Charles Portis’s 1968 novel, both the 1969 film and the 2010 remake have their strong points and are so similar that I had to include them together (same as my post for A Christmas Carol; the poem pretty much covers any version).

The 1969 True Grit has always been a staple in my house. As evidenced by his lone Best Actor Oscar win, John Wayne found his best role as larger-than-life, trigger-happy, one-eyed marshal and “fat old man” Rooster Cogburn. Kim Darby occasionally overacts, but she displays Mattie’s fierce resolve while remaining appropriately girlish. Many have decried Glen Campbell’s performance as LaBoeuf, criticism I believe he didn’t deserve. While he’s not what I would call a skilled actor, there’s nothing particularly distracting or dreadful about his performance. Besides, when you consider that Elvis Presley was the original choice for LaBoeuf, Campbell seems even more preferable. The Colorado scenery is stunning, and Rooster’s exhilarating charge against Ned Pepper’s gang is (or should be) as iconic a gunfight as any filmed.

As for the 2010 remake by the Coen brothers, it’s basically the same story with different actors, and the latter half from Mattie’s confrontation with Chaney to her rescue is more or less identical in both versions, though some earlier scenes were unnecessarily drawn out. While most of the events are perfectly recognizable, the film as a whole has a much more serious, pitiless, and…gritty tone. Though there is more language and violence, as I would expect from a modern-day remake, the Coens’ film also carries more Biblical messages and a melancholy score imbued with haunting hymns. Considering the often satirical and strange content of other Coen films, True Grit is one of their most restrained and sincere works, with mere glimpses of their comedic voice. Though I have not read the book, I’ve heard the remake is closer in tone and plot to Portis’s novel; the screenplay succeeds in reflecting both the author and the directors, with peculiarly worded dialogue like “I’m puzzled by this” and “You give out very little sugar with your pronouncements.”

My VC considers the 1969 True Grit sacred territory, like The Wizard of Oz or Gone with the Wind, a film that could never be matched by any remake. I, however, found the remake almost as good as the original. As excellent as Jeff Bridges is as Rooster Cogburn, with more uncouth ways and a more gravelly voice, John Wayne is untouchable and remains the main reason I prefer the first film. His delivery of lines like “Fill your hand, you son of a b****” carry so much more force and vitality than Bridges’. There’s a reason Wayne won Best Actor, while Bridges was only nominated (though he had won the previous year for Crazy Heart).

On the other hand, I prefer Matt Damon’s LaBoeuf over Glen Campbell’s; Damon gives him more personality, though his separations from Mattie and Rooster seemed unnecessary. Oscar nominee Hailee Steinfeld acts more mature as the 2010 Mattie, but she’s more or less on par with Darby, in my opinion. (It’s interesting to note that the role of the ill-fated Moon in the violent dugout scene seems to go to up-and-coming stars. Dennis Hopper played the boy in the original, and though Domhnall Gleeson wasn’t well-known in the 2010 version, he soon will be from his inclusion in J. J. Abrams’ Star Wars sequel next year.) Overall, both films boast an exemplary cast that put them on almost even footing.

The Coens’ film may be more artistic and realistic (the flat prairie setting is more as Oklahoma should look than the mountainous vistas of the original film), but the 1969 version is more enjoyable to watch. Even with the onscreen death of a major character, John Wayne’s greatest film ends on an uplifting “Yee haw” note rather than the somber narration of the remake and book. Both are excellent, but John Wayne tips the scale with the culminating performance of his career.

Best line from 1969: (Mattie) “You are too old and fat to be jumping horses.”  (Rooster, before proceeding to jump a fence) “Well, come see a fat old man some time!”

Best line from 2010: (Mattie’s narration, referring to Chaney’s crime) “You must pay for everything in this world, one way and another. There is nothing free except the grace of God.”

 
Rank: 57 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

265 Followers and Counting