Category Archives: Writing

#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

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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

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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

#74: A Christmas Story (1983)

10 Monday Nov 2014

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‘Twas days before Christmas throughout the Midwest,
And young Ralphie Parker was clearly obsessed
With gaining the gift of a grandiose gun,
A Red Ryder air rifle second to none.
His teacher and Santa and Mom had no doubt
That, if he received it, he’d “shoot his eye out,”
But still he would dream of the glorious day
When he’d get the gun from the Christmas display.
 
As Ralphie’s friend Flick found his frozen tongue trapped,
As bullies tormented them till Ralphie snapped,
As Ovaltine ads disappointed the scamp,
As Mom and Dad fought over one gaudy lamp,
As imprudent words left him sampling soap,
He planned and held onto his undying hope:
The gun of his dreams. Though that Christmas had sighs,
He got and remembered both woes and his prize.
__________________
 

Sometimes, I find it difficult to imagine a time before certain films entered the pop culture stream; A Christmas Story is one of those films. Though set in an ambiguous ’30s-‘40s era in Indiana, it holds a ubiquitous nostalgia that even those whose childhoods were far-removed from that time and place can find plenty to which they can relate. In a way, Jean Shepherd’s novelized sketches of one hilarious Christmas seem to capture the very essence of childhood during the holidays.

Shepherd himself narrates the familiar vignettes with casual grandiloquence, while Peter Billingsley portrays his shrewd younger self. Ralphie is an engaging “everykid,” whose solecism and sporadic brattiness are easily forgiven, since after all, who wasn’t an occasional selfish rascal when growing up? Though Ralphie’s parents seem like tired stereotypes (the blustering, foul-mouthed patriarch and the dense, unassuming mother), they both are treated affectionately throughout, even in their parental judgments, and become more sympathetic as the film continues. They feel like real parents, not always getting along nor indulging their children as much as they might wish, but capable of unexpected kindness that sticks in a child’s memory just as strongly as pink bunny pajamas.

Every moment of this film is a paradigm of Christmas reminiscences, from Ralphie’s over-the-top fantasies to the oft-repeated assertion that BB guns can only end in ocular injury. Why A Christmas Story was coolly received upon its release, I’ll never know; perhaps nostalgia wasn’t “in” in 1983 or critics just couldn’t recognize an instant classic when they saw it. Regardless, it has risen to its due popularity over time and is typically repeated for the entirety of Christmas Day on TBS. Some Christmas movies focus on its true meaning, like The Nativity Story; some put the emphasis on wonder and vague holiday spirit, like The Polar Express; some just happen to be set at Christmastime, like Die Hard; and some are eternal portraits of yuletide Americana, the best of which is A Christmas Story.

Best line: (Ralphie’s narration, after he spills the F-dash-dash-dash word) “Over the years I got to be quite a connoisseur of soap. My personal preference was for Lux, but I found Palmolive had a nice, piquant after-dinner flavor – heady, but with just a touch of mellow smoothness. Life Buoy, on the other hand…” (young Ralphie) “YECCHH!”

VC’s best line (the more obvious): (Ralphie’s mom, his teacher, and Santa Claus) “You’ll shoot your eye out.”

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

243 Followers and Counting

#75: Speed (1994)

09 Sunday Nov 2014

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An elevator stranded by a greedy bomber’s bomb
Attracts the LA SWAT team that must keep the riders calm.
Jack Traven and his partner Harry follow Traven’s gut
And rescue all the passengers before they meet the nut.
 
They think the wacko killed himself, but he has other plans.
He still wants ransom money in his trigger-pushing hands.
He poses Jack a challenge in a bomb-conveying bus,
Which cannot dare to slow down once it reaches 50+.
 
Jack rushes to the bus, which went too fast and now is armed,
And anxious Annie has to drive lest everyone be harmed.
Through traffic jams, unfinished roads, and skittish passengers,
They reach the airport and outsmart this worst of saboteurs.
 
They set a trap for Howard Payne, the ex-cop with a grudge,
But he holds Annie wired, daring Jack to give a nudge.
The subway takes the villain out, but Jack is forced to choose
To stay with Annie through a crash (until she takes a cruise).
__________________
 

Speed could have been a low point for action movies, a one-trick pony predicated on a single unlikely gimmick: a bus can’t drop below 50 mph or it explodes. Instead, it became one of the staples of the genre, one that milked its hair-raising scenario for all it was worth and joined the likes of Die Hard and the Terminator films as one of the great actioners. Though some of the set pieces lean on the outlandish side, there’s also a gripping reality to the circumstances, and it never lapses into the deadened routine of some films, as if no one is in any true danger. From the opening nightmare of an elevator collapse to the many close calls aboard Bus 2525, Speed is still a white-knuckle thrill ride that never gets old.

One of the film’s best points is the strong casting of the main three: Keanu Reeves as fearless bomb squad hero Jack, Sandra Bullock as vulnerable Wildcat Annie, and Dennis Hopper as disgruntled nutcase Howard Payne. The characters of Jack and Annie could have been flat and banal (like the leads in Speed 2), but Reeves and Bullock inject the right amount of perceptive humor and improvisational heroism to carry the film alone. Add in Hopper, an excellent “crazy” actor, as a seemingly omniscient antagonist, and the entire bombastic package is thrilling from beginning to end. Most of the passengers aren’t big names (the elderly Oriental man, now 100 years old, was actually an animator for some of Walt Disney’s early films), but I can’t resist saying, “Look, there’s Cameron” at Alan Ruck’s presence.

Between the stunts and the riveting Mark Mancina score, Speed is still just as entertaining as it was twenty years ago, minus the frequent profanity and the villain’s gruesome end. (As a minor point, the final line ends the film on a flat note for me, since I don’t think sex alone is any more reliable a foundation for a relationship than an intense situation. No wonder it didn’t last long.) The film spawned a much-maligned sequel aboard a ship that wasn’t that bad but couldn’t match the intensity of the original, especially minus Reeves. Most action films lately try to go over-the-top with the violent energy, but few even come close to the joy ride of Speed.

Best line: (Jack, to Annie) “Miss, can you handle this bus?” (Annie) “Oh, sure. It’s just like driving a really big Pinto.”

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

243 Followers and Counting

#76: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986)

09 Sunday Nov 2014

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No highschooler could be cooler
Than beloved Ferris Bueller.
Everywhere he cannot err,
Which sister Jeanie thinks unfair.
One day, ol’ “Slick” pretends he’s sick,
Employing every clever trick.
Fortune-kissed, he can’t resist
Coercing Cameron to assist.
 
With crafty phone, they pick up Sloan,
Who’s Bueller’s girlfriend, as is known.
In Cameron’s dad’s Ferrari rad,
They cruise Chicago; what a lad!
They carpe diem from museum
To parade, and kin don’t see ‘em.
 
Toward the end, what they can’t mend
Becomes rebirth for Bueller’s friend.
Back home he flees with agile ease;
No principal can stop the tease.
He makes it there, no trice to spare–
The greatest days to those who dare.
________________
 

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is one of the most beloved single comedies ever made, a John Hughes classic of the highest order. It’s one of those endlessly watchable films with countless devotees who can spout the dialogue along with the film. Breaking the fourth wall has become more common nowadays, but no film can match the sheer classicness of Matthew Broderick’s conversations with the camera.

Every bit of characterization is spot-on, from Cameron’s meltdown over his father’s car’s mileage to Jeanie’s brief rendezvous with Charlie Sheen to Principal Rooney’s fruitless efforts to catch the titular delinquent in the act. Ben Stein’s memorably boring performance as an economics teacher even jump-started his acting career and typecast him with the most monotonous of personas. Yet no one steals the show like Broderick, whose character’s charming frankness, crafty connivances, and youthful vitality endeared him to audiences everywhere. His lip-syncing solo of the Beatles’ “Twist and Shout” aboard a parade float is the high point of the loosely-plotted shenanigans, the kind of stunning audacity that everyone wishes they could get away with.

Indeed, Ferris envy could very well be the reason for the film’s popularity. Who doesn’t want to get away with every risk and be universally liked at the same time? More people probably see themselves in Cameron (Alan Ruck), too worried about placating the oppressive and merely getting by to step out of the box. This one day in which Cameron only wanted to stay in bed, this one glorious day of ball games and art museums and eating pancreas, turns out to be the best day of his life and the day of his personal awakening. It’s the kind of day we all wish we could have.

John Hughes’s direction, at once quirky and natural, allowed the actors to grow into their roles so thoroughly that most of them are probably best known for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. When Alan Ruck took command of the Enterprise in Star Trek: Generations, I said, “Look, it’s Cameron.” When Jeffrey Jones enjoyed Mozart’s music in Amadeus, I said, “Look, it’s Principal Rooney.” It’s still influential too; Candace’s eagerness to “bust” her brothers on Disney’s Phineas and Ferb is actively reminiscent of Jennifer Grey’s attempts against Ferris, and a recent Super Bowl ad proved that Broderick’s slacker role continues to be popular. Heck, the film pioneered the after-credits scene. Few films aspire to this level of unforgettable charisma, but Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is 1980s teen comedy at its most appealing.

Best line: (Ferris Bueller) “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

243 Followers and Counting

 

#77: 1776 (1972)

07 Friday Nov 2014

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(Can be sung to “But, Mr. Adams,” minus the repetition)
 
In the summer of a year remembered,
As a turning point of history and rights,
Mr. Adams is imploring,
With controversies boring,
All the Congressmen to listen as he fights.
 
Independence, their independence,
Is a subject few are willing to discuss aloud,
Till Virginia’s Lee declares a resolution proud,
Which brings out the strong opinions of the noble crowd.
 
Since the foes to independence are mounting
And unanimous the final vote must be,
Mr. Adams stalls frustration:
They need a declaration
To announce the reasons why they must be free.
 
Mr. Adams tells Mr. Jefferson
That he must write the declaration they’re requiring.
Adams brings in Tom’s young wife to start inspiring,
And soon his aptitude for eloquence is firing.
 
Though the written declaration seems perfect,
Everybody finds a quibble or a flaw.
Words are altered or ejected;
Since slaves were interjected,
All the Southern states take issue and withdraw.
 
Mr. Adams, moved by Mrs. Adams,
Will not let his dream of independence meet an end.
He bites the needed bullets to convert each friend,
And the U.S.A. is born when signatures are penned.
_________________
 

Some of my favorite musicals are related to history, and, though the Second Continental Congress may not have been an obvious choice, 1776 brought this important time in history to life with the entertaining power of show tunes. I’m a big fan of putting the spotlight on minor players in history, people whose names are glossed over in history books. Giving them a name and voice and image only seems right, since unknowns can shape history just as much as presidents and kings. Though this film leaves out several members of the Congress in order to achieve a more manageable cast, it characterizes an amazing number of signers, including John Dickinson (Pennsylvania’s opponent to independence), James Wilson (a weak judge given a final choice), Samuel Chase (a rotund Marylander), Lewis Morris (an ever-abstaining New Yorker) Stephen Hopkins (a Rhode Island drunk), Richard Henry Lee (the Virginian resolution maker and relative of Robert E. Lee), Caesar Rodney (a Delaware patriot stricken by cancer), Dr. Lyman Hall (a Georgian physician), Colonel Thomas McKean (a Delaware Scotsman), and John Hancock (President of the Congress and first signer).

Of course, there are also the more obvious players as well. Though “obnoxious and disliked,” William Daniels as John Adams finds the same balance of likable and insufferable that he delivered as Dr. Mark Craig on St. Elsewhere. Howard da Silva is the spitting image of Benjamin Franklin and obviously enjoys spouting the wit for which Franklin was famous. Likewise, Ken Howard and Blythe Danner (aka Gwyneth Paltrow’s mother) are ideal as Thomas and Martha Jefferson, the former of whom struggles between patriotism and romance and chooses both, of course.

The film takes considerable liberties with its historical basis, including motivations (Dickinson himself posed some of the grievances put forward by Adams; his insulting Adams as a “lawyer” is ironic considering Dickinson was really a lawyer too) and dramatic details (Martha Jefferson never came to visit her husband in Philadelphia and had actually suffered a miscarriage around the time of the signing). While these aberrations can irritate history buffs, none are so glaring as to undermine the film as a whole. Indeed, 1776 depicts the tensions of the period with insight and humor. Small details, such as Franklin’s strained relationship with his son, are included as fascinating bits of trivia, while debates with the South foreshadow the objections that led to the Civil War. The dialogue, much of it derived from letters of the real people involved, carries a unique wit and intelligence of conversation that has been lost over time.

The film is also full of underrated musical gems, usually humorous, such as the opening “Sit Down, John,” the lighthearted “The Lees of Old Virginia,” and my personal favorite, the pen-passing “But, Mr. Adams.” The one song sung by defender of slavery Edward Rutledge, “Molasses to Rum,” goes a bit too far with its portrait of the slave trade, but most of the tunes are buoyant numbers, like Mrs. Jefferson’s “He Plays the Violin.” One brief scene also taps into contemporary Vietnam War sentiments about Congress blithely sending young men to war, ending with the poignant elegy “Mama, Look Sharp.”

1776 does occasionally drag with long stretches of dialogue that could bore those not actively interested in the debate, yet its music and recreation of history have always appealed to me. Though historians believe that the Declaration itself was not signed on July 4, 1776, the final scene that depicts this becomes more and more powerful as it continues, as if a window in time were opened allowing us to witness one of history’s pivotal moments.

Best line: (Congressional secretary Charles Thomson, calling for a vote) “Where’s Rhode Island?”
(McNair, the custodian) “Rhode Island’s out visiting the necessary.”
(Hancock) “Well, after what Rhode Island has consumed, I can’t say I’m surprised. We’ll come back to him, Mr. Thomson.”
(Thomson) “Rhode Island passes.” [everyone laughs]

 

Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

243 Followers and Counting

 

#78: The Color Purple (1985)

06 Thursday Nov 2014

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(Spoiler alert)
 
Two black girls in Georgia are never a bother,
But both are still coveted by their own father.
Young Celie’s delivered two children already,
And her only solace is dear sister Nettie.
 
When one Mr. Johnson comes seeking a wife,
It’s Celie he’s given, a servant for life.
He beats her, insults her, and treats her like dirt;
It’s Nettie he wants, and he’s eager to flirt.
 
When she still refuses, he sends her away,
But she swears to write, every night, every day.
The years pass in silence as Mister’s kids grow,
And some brash Sofia espouses Harpo.
 
She proves too high-strung to remain as his wife,
But he builds a juke joint for music and strife.
When Mister’s own prostitute stays for a while,
Shug bonds with Miss Celie and gets her to smile.
 
A word from the mayor’s wife quickly upsets
Sofia, who gives just as good as she gets.
This sends her to jail, crushing spirit and soul,
And twelve years locked up take a terrible toll.
 
When Shug visits them, Celie finds, when compelled,
The letters from Nettie that Mister withheld.
She stands up to him and insists she depart,
Which leaves him dumb-struck, and Sofia takes heart.
 
From then on, Miss Celie, though ugly and fraught,
Has luck on her side, whereas Mister does not.
As if God is trying to help them along,
Shug also makes up with her father in song.
 
At last, Mister sees all the pain he’s caused Celie
And sends her a gift given slyly and freely.
A tearful reunion, a long-hoped surprise
Fills Celie with joy that no pain can disguise.
___________________
 

The Color Purple, based on Alice Walker’s Pulitzer-winning novel, was a huge departure for Steven Spielberg, known for action and sci-fi blockbusters rather than emotional period dramas.  It proved how diversified his filmography could become and how skilled he is at coaxing powerful performances from his actors.

Whoopi Goldberg in particular, up to then strictly a comedienne, exhibits one of the most astounding transitions to drama imaginable, portraying Miss Celie in all her vulnerability and long-suffering shyness. Danny Glover as Mister delivers such a brutally despicable performance that it’s sometimes hard to imagine him as a good guy in films like Lethal Weapon and Silverado.  Margaret Avery plays Shug with both crudity and tenderness, and other up-and-coming African-American actors are well-cast, including Rae Dawn Chong and a young Laurence Fishburne (credited as Larry Fishburne).  However, the most moving performance for me comes from debuting Oprah Winfrey as Sofia, a woman forced to fight for her independence, who ends up fighting too hard.  I’m hardly a fan of Oprah, but she most certainly deserved the Best Supporting Actress Oscar (she lost to Angelica Huston for Prizzi’s Honor).

As inspiring as The Color Purple is in the end, it is also an unbearably sad portrait of cruelty and a downtrodden life.  Sad is the simplest way to describe all the pain in this film.  It’s sad that nearly every male character treats a woman as a thing to be ordered, beaten, and used.  It’s sad that Mister shamelessly prepares for his mistress in full view of and assisted by his own wife.  It’s sad that the bonds of marriage and parenthood mean nothing and that Celie has a dejectedly ignorant idea of what love is.  It’s sad that Shug’s moral choices alienate her preacher father and that one lapse in judgment ruins Sofia’s life.

Yet the final half hour is full of heartfelt reconciliations and reunions that make all the suffering bearable, if not worthwhile. I first viewed The Color Purple after I entered my current state of rarely if ever crying, but had I seen it when younger, I surely would have bawled multiple times with tears of both sorrow and joy.  My VC still chokes up at the end after multiple viewings.

Sad movies can be tricky. Some attempt social commentary that leaves me feeling manipulated and depressed (The Bicycle Thief, When the Wind Blows); others like The Color Purple balance the misery with moments of kindness and light that ultimately leave viewers satisfied. (Grave of the Fireflies may lean more to the former side, but there’s enough of the latter to win me over.  It’s still the only film that can get my lacrimal glands working.)

Though it failed to win any of its eleven Oscar nominations (being overshadowed by Sydney Pollack’s Out of Africa), The Color Purple is a masterpiece, one of those films that makes critics wax philosophical about the triumph of the human spirit.  Well done, Mr. Spielberg.

Best line: (Sofia) “Set in that jail, I set in that jail till I near about done rot to death. I know what it like, Miss Celie, wanna go somewhere and can’t. I know what it like to wanna sing… and have it beat out ‘ya. I want to thank you, Miss Celie, for everything you done for me. I ‘members that day, I’s in the store with Miss Millie; I’s feelin’ real down, I’s feelin’ mighty bad. And when I seed you…I knowed there is a God. I knowed there is a God. And one day I’s gonna get to come home.”

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

241 Followers and Counting

 

#79: High School Musical Trilogy (2006, 2007, 2008)

05 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

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(Best sung to “We’re All in This Together”)
 
On New Year’s Eve, a game of karaoke
Begins a chance romance,
Yet Troy just wants to keep his singing low-key
Lest his friends look askance.
 
Gabriella is new to Bolton’s high school
And all its separate cliques.
A musical, despised as being not cool,
Throws off the stable mix.
 
When Troy and Gabriella
Both try out
For lead roles,
All their goals
Are put in doubt.
Their friends just want them focused;
Don’t rebel
From the sports
On the courts
In which they excel.
 
One Sharpay, the bad girl of the big stage,
Can’t stand her challengers.
As Troy’s friends try forcing him to disengage,
More sabotage occurs.
The lovebirds and school get past their own rage
And give their full support.
 
So Troy and Gabriella,
With the aid
Of their friends,
Changing trends,
Sing unafraid.
They win the big audition
With each friend
And proceed
To succeed
With a happy end.
__________________
 
(Best sung to “Work This Out”)
 
Summer arrives for the passionate class
That breakdances through East High.
Sharpay, with neverending sass,
Is eager for goodbye.
She heads out to her country club,
Where servants must comply.
 
But all the Wildcats are hired
And worked until they’re tired,
And only Troy’s desired.
 
As everyone tries to do their best,
It’s clear that Troy is favored here.
He gets used to the way he’s blessed
And estranges his best friends, who are second tier.
 
A talent show is beckoning
The brightest and the best,
And Sharpay’s bullying
Her brother is progressed.
He helps the Wildcats
Prepare for talent night,
Even as divided Troy
Deliberates his plight.
 
Gabriella departs,
A breaking of hearts,
And at last Troy decides the right thing.
He sings with his friends,
And Sharpay’s control ends.
Friends and family unite
For a future that’s bright.
 
Sharpay is shown up but not put down
And sings with them all in a common song.
Her brother Ryan wins the trophy’s crown,
And they all sing together as they get along.
__________________
 
(Best sung to “Scream”)
 
It’s time for senior year.
As all spectators cheer,
The Wildcats persevere
To one more win.
The musical this spring
Will cover everything,
And Troy and friends will sing
Through thick and thin.
 
With college closing fast,
Troy’s feeling harassed
By all the questions asked
Of choosing, weighing the future.
Both sports and theater
Just leave him unsure.
He wants to be closer
To Gabriella’s future.
 
There’s tension still
With Sharpay’s bluster,
And Ryan is persuaded to trust her.
 
Practice, prom,
Staying calm,
Troy is told that
He only holds back
His girlfriend’s bright track.
To abstain
From the pain,
Gabriella
Decides she must leave,
Which just makes Troy grieve.
 
He thinks about it more
And chooses her door.
Love he must restore
With singing, dancing, and choosing.
At last, he makes his choice,
Picks sports and his voice,
And they both rejoice.
It’s showtime; start the music!
 
Sharpay and Ryan
Each find their courses,
One which Juilliard endorses.
 
One last time,
In their prime,
They earn applause,
Announcing from stage
Their story’s next page.
Soon they all,
Standing tall,
Graduate and
Know, as their lives dawn,
That high school lives on.
_________________
  

Since its heyday, High School Musical has nearly gained the infamy of the Star Wars prequels for supposedly being such awful, overrated fluff. Yet I love it. Disney Channel original movies are hardly masterpieces and, except for The Color of Friendship and The Thirteenth Year, are not usually worth re-watching. However, High School Musical indeed became a phenomenon, one that I followed intently. I was surprised by the first film in 2006, convinced my parents and VC to view it as well (they love it too), watched the sequel’s even more successful debut the next year, and then paid to see High School Musical 3: Senior Year at the theater. One could call them guilty pleasures, but I’m not ashamed in the least. I grew up with these characters and, regardless of flaws, enjoy the films to this day.

The first High School Musical has the worst reputation, with karaoke, high school clichés (distinct cliques, evil blond diva, etc.), and other rather cheesy elements onto which haters latch. (On thetoptens.com, a website of public-voted top ten lists, it ranks as the #2 worst film, behind Justin Bieber: Never Say Never.) Yet I never watched High School Musical expecting Oscar-worthy performances or a deep, original plot; I love it for the music. It’s hip, catchy, progresses the story (usually), and made drama and musicals cool for a new generation.

High School Musical 2 is my favorite of the three, possessing some of the most memorable songs and the funniest script. With the return of the same young actors, it also succeeded in establishing them all as lovable characters of my childhood. Perhaps it was simply from seeing them repeatedly, but I came to care for Troy and Gabriella (Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens), Chad and Taylor (Corbin Bleu and Monique Coleman), Ryan and Kelsi (Lucas Grabeel and Olesya Rulin), and even sneaky Sharpay (Phineas and Ferb’s Ashley Tisdale). By the time the third film came out, I was nearing the same fears of the future they were and could actively sympathize with Troy’s uncertainty. Senior Year added some needed depth, even to minor characters, and ended with long shots of the six main characters simply smiling at the camera. I thought this unnecessary at the time, but as they’ve all moved on and “grown up” in different ways, I see now that those scenes (and the entire movies) act as snapshots of these actors at this early time in their lives, like a graduation photo, if you will. The bittersweet end has touched my inner teenager on subsequent viewings.

As for the music, all three films have some commonalities in their songs. Each has at least one romantic duet with Troy and Gabriella:

-the first film’s “Start of Something New,”
-the second film’s “You Are the Music in Me” (the best), and
-the third film’s “Right Here, Right Now” and “Can I Have This Dance;”
 

a well-choreographed, rap-inflected number:

-the first film’s “Get’cha Head in the Game” (the best),
-the second’s “I Don’t Dance,” and
-the third’s “The Boys Are Back;”
 

a slow, emotional solo for Vanessa Hudgens:

-the first film’s “When There Was Me and You,”
-the second’s “Gotta Go My Own Way” (tie), and
-the third’s “Walk Away” (tie);
 

a show-stopping hit midway through:

-the first film’s “Stick to the Status Quo” (tie),
-the second’s “Work This Out” (tie), and
-the third’s “A Night to Remember;”
 

a catchy, over-the-top number for Sharpay, which I actually enjoy more than Troy and Gabriella’s:

-the first film’s “Bop to the Top,”
-the second’s “Fabulous,” and
-the third’s “I Want It All” (the best);
 

and a rousing finale that wraps everything up with a smile-worthy bow:

-the first film’s “We’re All in This Together” (three-way tie; all too good to choose),
-the second’s “All for One” (bursting with summer’s joie de vivre and my VC’s favorite), and
-the third’s “High School Musical” (three-way tie).
 

Critics can decry the unsophisticated dialogue and hackneyed plot elements, but High School Musical is something that everyone involved can be proud of. Director and choreographer Kenny Ortega did an outstanding job across the board. The choreography is excellent throughout (with the laughable exception of the second film’s “Bet On It”), and it’s obvious that much work and practice went into creating the elaborate dance scenes. Unfortunately, Disney Channel has yet to reclaim the spirit of these musicals, though they’ve tried with the unmemorable Camp Rock and Teen Beach Movie.

Another reason I love these films is for their ingenuous purity. Though I like some of the music in it, Grease did not make my list; High School Musical may borrow elements from that film, but it exceeds it in good, clean entertainment value. The world of East High is indeed squeaky clean and idealized, but that’s simply the kind of world I prefer, a world in which a boy can sneak up to his girlfriend’s bedroom without a hint of impropriety, in contrast to the “realistic” world of sex and drugs that other high school films depict. It’s always easier to criticize than to create, and for all its imperfections, I will continue to assert that the High School Musical films are a credit to their genre.

Best lines: Refer to best songs above

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

240 Followers and Counting