Why waste time? Hot off the heels of completing my 2020 Blindspots, it’s time to move on to a brand new list of twelve movies for 2021. Normally, I would have posted this at the beginning of the year and watched one a month, but I’m sure I can double up a few times before December, especially once I graduate.
As with past years, I attempted to select a varied collection of films I’ve been meaning to see, including a war classic, a Best Picture winner, an anime, a musical, a psychological horror, a sci-fi actioner, and a couple popular comedies. Here’s hoping that 2021’s Blindspot series will expose me to some new favorites!
Despite all of my guilt and apologies about being late with my 2020 Blindspots, I realized that I actually did manage to see them all in a year’s time. I didn’t review my first until last April, so I guess I did fulfill the challenge in a way.
Anyway, I do always enjoy these Blindspot series, which expose me to a bunch of films I’ve kept on the back burner for too long. As for 2020’s collection, I must admit I was a bit disappointed with at least half of them, in contrast to past years, and only my #1 actually managed to snag a List-Worthy rating. Nevertheless, I am glad to have finally seen them all, and I hope to do the same with other Blindspots as we get further into 2021.
Here then is my ranking of the Blindspots from the past year:
If actors in movies are merely fakes, How do you manage to up the stakes? How do you take the viewers’ slump And get their blood to truly pump? How do you take a film’s façade And prove it’s more than just a fraud?
Reality! I’ve said it here; It’s not enough to fake a tear, To cry on cue, to feign a scream, To cheapen what should be extreme. I want a shark that really bites, Real zombie hordes with appetites, A true disaster caught on tape From which the cast may not escape.
Alas, such things we can’t get at, With contracts, laws, and things like that, But if real danger should appear Why not record the drama, fear, Reality?! No thought for taste, Let no disaster go to waste. _______________________
MPA Rating: Not Rated (probably R for bloody violence and F words in the subtitles, though there’s clear fakery to the gore)
At long last, I have reached the end of my 2020 Blindspot list, and once more I tap the trite but apt phrase “better late than never.” I didn’t intend to wrap up the list with this Japanese zombie film; it just happened to fall to last place, which only makes it even more surprising that it turned out to be my favorite of all the Blindspots from last year. In case there is doubt, I am typically averse to extreme violence in movies, so zombie flicks are far from my cup of tea. Yet I did love Train to Busan, and the 100% Rotten Tomatoes score for One Cut of the Dead gave me hope that this one might be something special. It is.
For starters, One Cut of the Dead is gleefully meta, being a film about the making of a film about people making a zombie film when real zombies appear. It is also the kind of film that is hard to talk about without giving too much away, but I’ll try to avoid spoilers. Director Higurashi (Takayuki Hamatsu) is trying to wring emotion out of his actors as they shoot an ultra-low-budget zombie flick in an abandoned factory. While the cast and crew grow weary of his demands, actual zombies suddenly appear, and he seizes the life-and-death situation to bring realism to his film, insisting on keeping the camera rolling as the undead move in.
That synopsis alone probably doesn’t seem particularly innovative, but let’s just say there’s more to it. The film’s most impressive achievement is that the first 37 minutes are all one long tracking shot with no cuts (a favorite technique of mine), following the characters from zombie chases to Higurashi’s sabotaging of their escape attempts. As impressive as this is, the film’s low-budget status is evident from the awkward pauses, stilted dialogue, and schlocky violence that largely stays off-screen, building into increasingly funny absurdity. Yet the rest of the movie adds so much more to the initial film within a film, providing context of what happened beforehand and what happened off-camera, making the proceedings even more hilarious, quirky, and (as strange as it may sound) heartwarming.
Modern comedies rarely hold a candle to the older classics, in my opinion, but I’ll admit that One Cut of the Dead had me grinning much more than I expected going in. What seems at first like a groan-worthy wannabe horror turns into a celebration of film and the enormous effort put into it, and I loved how even seemingly insignificant details were given amusing explanations as the story unfolded. Even the director’s name had me wondering if it was an oblique reference to the classic Higurashi horror series.
As much as I enjoyed the film, I wasn’t quite sure if it warranted placement on my list; then I found that there was actually a follow-up sequel of sorts from last year called One Cut of the Dead: Remote Mission, in which the same cast made a short film from their homes during COVID lockdown. Just revisiting the characters and their quirks made me smile all over again and confirmed to me that One Cut of the Dead should be List-Worthy. As a comedy masquerading as horror, its inventive plot, endearing characters, and brilliant execution make it an instant classic in my book.
Best line: (Higurashi’s wife) “Pom!” (You’ll get it when you see it.)
The patchwork quilt of others’ lives That covers us and those we meet Can swaddle us or smother us Depending on the way we treat The people in our sphere.
If those you knew or cared to love Could see your thoughts, your worst mistake, The way you act in panic’s vice, I wonder what façade would break And where you’d go from here. _______________________
MPA rating: R (strong R for language and nudity)
Oh, look it’s March. Might be a good time to, I don’t know, finally get back to reviewing my Blindspots from last year! I can’t wait for school to be done later this year, but I’ll probably just shorten my reviews so the blog doesn’t go dead for another month.
Anyway, there are few things as disappointing as a movie you feel you ought to like but just don’t. Robert Altman’s Short Cuts is very much my style of movie. I love watching how individual lives intersect, how chance encounters can influence the bigger picture. It’s one of the many reasons I loved Lost and admire films like Ink, Cloud Atlas, and The Five People You Meet in Heaven. With some reservations, 2019’s Blindspot Twenty Bucks fulfilled the expectations I had for Short Cuts in 2020, which sadly failed to satisfy by enjoyment of cosmic connections this time around.
Ultimately, every film needs to have a story worth telling and characters worth watching, and no amount of admirable filmmaking or even a star-studded cast can fill that need. A lot happens in Short Cuts but also not nearly enough. Based on the short stories and poems of Raymond Carver, the story is an expansive snapshot of numerous lives throughout the Los Angeles area, played by a who’s who of recognizable ’90s faces. There’s Robert Downey, Jr., as a smarmy makeup artist, Lily Tomlin as an exasperated waitress, Andie MacDowell as a young mother, Matthew Modine as a doctor, Julianne Moore as his artistic wife, Frances McDormand as Peter Gallagher’s philandering wife, Tim Robbins as her cop lover, Jack Lemmon as Bruce Davison’s estranged father, and many more, including Tom Waits, Anne Archer, Lori Singer, Chris Penn, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Fred Ward, and Lili Taylor. In light of the passing of Alex Trebek (whom I still grieve, as a lifelong Jeopardy fan), I was also delighted to see him in a brief cameo.
It truly is an astounding cast, all of whom are wholly believable in their roles. It’s just a shame that most of them play crude, vindictive jerks with the morals of cats. In the world of this film, infidelity is more common than marriage, and empathy is rare, all of which carries enough realism to lower one’s opinion of society in general. Beyond this, Altman’s film seems queasily enamored of sex and female nudity, from Leigh’s graphic phone sex calls to an admittedly well-acted lovers’ quarrel which would have been less distracting had Julianne Moore been wearing more than just a top. Of the 22 main characters, I’d say there are only two that remain sympathetic throughout, meaning most of the 3-hour film focuses on the others, and I believe that several of the side stories could have been trimmed to reduce the excessive runtime.
All that is not to say Short Cuts is without merit. I was actually impressed with how balanced the treatment of the characters was, switching between them often enough to give almost everyone in the expansive ensemble a memorable moment or two. Yet the jumping around between stories also doesn’t get overly confusing, and the artful direction weaves the stories together with subtle but identifiable connections, which is an impressive feat. However, the film ultimately falls into the “That’s It?” category, with the credits rolling before most of the intersecting storylines get even a semblance of closure. After over 3 hours with people I would not care to know personally, the bathetic conclusion settles for its status as a collage of experiences rather than offering any clear point. I realize everyday vignettes can be very compelling and endearing and don’t necessarily need an overarching purpose, but I suppose my distaste for much of the film’s content has soured my opinion of its storytelling as well. Unless the plot warrants ambiguity, I like my stories to have endings, not vague implications.
Time is a string, A straight line following Every inch with the next, And no one expects That line to turn back In its infinite track Or be wrinkled or folded Or otherwise molded To anything but A straight line, never cut, For if that occurs, Men are mere amateurs In the Pandora’s boxes Of time paradoxes, And no one is certain What’s under the curtain, The dreadful reveal Of sci-fi-made-real. _________________________
Rating: PG-13 (though Netflix shows it as R, which is odd since there is nothing objectionable)
I suppose I never appreciated how much free time I possessed when I had just school or just work taking up the bulk of my day. Now that I have both, it seems like everything else has been sliding to a lower priority level, including this blog sadly. Nevertheless, I have not forgotten it! Speaking of time, it’s time now to check another entry from my Blindspot list, a film about time travel that has earned a reputation for being intractably complex. Indeed, Primer is the kind of movie, like last year’s Tenet, that doesn’t just benefit from but needs a diagram or outside explanation to fully grasp it, which makes it a hard sell for people who enjoy understanding what they watch.
Made on an extreme shoestring budget (about $7000), Primer is not your typical time travel flick; there are no flashes of lightning or fancy special effects to adorn its bare-bones tale of accidental scientific discovery. Its two main characters, Abe and Aaron, are a couple of moonlighting engineers who share resources with other small-time inventors; there’s no attempt at making them personable for the audience or even translating the scientific jargon that makes up much of the dialogue. A weight-reduction experiment somehow results in an unusual small-scale time loop, and the two inventors realize they’ve stumbled onto something big when its application for humans becomes clear.
Many a time travel movie tries to pass itself off as “realistic,” even though the paradoxes involved with the ever-cool concept make it inherently not; Primer attempts this through its low-key, unglamorous style and how it injects actual science into the dialogue. I liked the idea of discovering time travel by accident, similar to the excellent anime/game Steins;Gate, and I was preparing my thinking cap as the characters figured out how to make it work. The concept of entering a box where time is reversed and exiting at a point in the past, keeping yourself isolated beforehand to avoid interacting with your double, made sense for the most part, and I started thinking, “This isn’t so complex.” And then the plot went off the deep end….
I have read the description and rewatched parts of the movie to try to wrap my head around the story, and I can honestly say that I believe I understand most of it (which is more than I can say for Tenet), but not without a good amount of mental effort. I don’t mind films that make you think, but I find it a bit annoying when a film throws a wrench in the plot and doesn’t even care to give the audience a shred of time to decipher its meaning. There’s a running narration, but the language used seems intentionally vague, and certain plot points are dropped without any explanation whatsoever. And this was on purpose, according to Shane Carruth, who served as director, actor (as Aaron), composer, writer, and editor, a true auteur like Jamin Winans. Carruth wanted this sense of bewilderment to stress the confusion of time travel for the characters, and he succeeded, though whether that is a good thing is debatable.
Primer is a puzzle-box movie if ever there was one. The puzzle is the reason for its existence, with things like character development or eye-catching visuals pushed to the background. I enjoyed that moment of “eureka, I think I get it,” which only happened after the credits rolled a second time, but the intentional opacity of the plot certainly doesn’t equate to entertainment value. Whether the appeal of the former outweighs the latter is entirely subjective and dependent on each person’s capacity for wondering what the heck is going on. I would agree that Primer is a required watch for anyone seeking a comprehensive view of time travel in cinema, but I don’t consider it a positive that the main reason to see it again is to gain a semblance of understanding as to what you just saw.
Best line: (Aaron, to Abe) “Man, are you hungry? I haven’t eaten since later this afternoon.”
Rank: Dishonorable Mention (That seems harsh, but I doubt I’ll watch it again.)
“Honor thy father and mother.” How simple and subtle a rule! Our methods may vary And end up contrary To what we expected in school.
Our strained obligations To past generations Are wholesome but no longer cool.
Our lives take priority Over seniority Lest we be labeled a fool.
Good children are rarest Where they be embarrassed By wrinkles, dementia, and drool.
A list of excuses Can equal abuses, And lack of concern can be cruel. _______________________
MPA rating: Approved (easy G, though likely not of interest to kids)
Continuing with my 2020 Blindspots has still been subject to delays, but I’ll finish them one way or another, even if it means keeping my reviews short. It’s time now for the oldest entry on the list, 1937’s Make Way for Tomorrow, which seems to have earned the distinction of being a desperately sad drama long before more modern tearjerkers stained viewers’ cheeks and made this unsung classic fade from cinematic memory. Boasting a 100% score on Rotten Tomatoes yet failing to earn a single Oscar nomination, it’s one of those films that leaves you surprised that it’s not more well-known.
Make Way for Tomorrow qualifies as what I call a Triple A movie, one that is All About the Acting. The performances are nuanced and subtle, a far cry from the histrionics associated with old Hollywood, with stars Victor Moore and Beulah Bondi in top form. The pair, both significantly aged up with makeup made seamless by the black-and-white format, play the elderly Bark and Lucy Cooper, who are forced out of their home by the bank and must rely on the goodwill of their five grown children to board them. No one can take both parents, so they must live apart; as they wear on the nerves of the kids and their families, everyone wishes in vain for some better arrangement.
Based on a play that was based on a novel, the script of Make Way for Tomorrow is notable for its realism and pervasive sense of empathy. It’s the kind of situation that many families have no doubt had to endure, and you can’t entirely blame anyone for their frustration with it. One daughter (Elisabeth Risdon) who takes in Pa Cooper seems needlessly harsh and impatient, but Pa Cooper also acts opinionated and stubborn as he misses his wife. We can all say how we would act in such a situation, but I expect most people would find they have less patience than they think they do.
Ma Cooper’s motherly idiosyncrasies in the home of her son George (Thomas Mitchell) brought to mind the more humorous aggravation from Doris Roberts’ Marie on Everybody Loves Raymond, and it’s a testament to the authenticity of the characters that such universal circumstances can inspire both comedy and drama. Bondi as Ma Cooper is the real heart of the film, and her last selfless scene with her son is a punch to the heartstrings. (It’s interesting to note that she plays Thomas Mitchell’s mother here, while she would play his sister nine years later in It’s a Wonderful Life.) By the end, I’ll admit the film does seem longer than its relatively short 91-minute runtime, but Moore and Bondi fill their few scenes together with the comfortable chemistry of a couple whose love has persisted through decades, which only makes the pitiable situation sadder. The director, Leo McCarey, actually won the Best Director Academy Award that year for The Awful Truth but said on stage that he thought they “gave it to [him] for the wrong picture”; I haven’t seen The Awful Truth myself, but I tend to think he was right.
Best line: (Lucy Cooper, quoting a poem, the source of which I’m still unsure but it deserves a place on my Poems in Movies list)
A man and a maid stood hand in hand Bound by a tiny wedding band. Before them lay the uncertain years That promised joy and maybe tears. “Is she afraid?” thought the man of the maid.
“Darling,” he said in a tender voice, “Tell me. Do you regret your choice? We know not where the road may wind, Or what strange byways we may find. Are you afraid?” said the man to the maid.
She raised her eyes and spoke at last. “My dear,” she said, “the die is cast. The vows have been spoken. The rice has been thrown. Into the future we’ll travel alone. With you,” said the maid, “I’m not afraid.”
It’s really a shame that mankind at its worst Is seen more conspicuously than its best, Like children who cry getting tended and cursed By those who decide children all are a pest, While one quiet child can’t hope to reverse The hostile impressions ingrained by the rest.
There still are some saints that can shine over sin, Their kindnesses somehow worth more in our eyes. But how can we drown out the negative din If so few are willing to re-humanize? It doesn’t much matter who’ll lose and who’ll win If basic civility meets its demise. ________________________
MPA rating: R (for profanity, a couple violent scenes, and a few explicit paintings)
“Better late than never” will be my catchphrase for the next several weeks, since school and life in general have put me so far behind my desired posting schedule. Heck, I’m only ¾ of the way through last year’s Blindspots. But here at last I am continuing the list with Wes Anderson’s most decorated film, the ornately madcap farce The Grand Budapest Hotel.
I’m still not sure what my opinion of Wes Anderson is in general. I’ve seen Rushmore, Isle of Dogs, and Fantastic Mr. Fox before, and I can’t say I loved or hated any of them. I enjoy his eccentric and fastidious production design to a certain extent but mainly as unique oddities, admiring his work from the outside but never feeling drawn in by the world of the story. The Grand Budapest Hotel probably comes the closest to achieving that, thanks to the well-drawn characters and how Anderson’s ever-present drollery gives way to pathos by the end. It’s an odd set-up, the plot being portrayed as a reading of a recollection of a conversation of a memory, jumping back in time with each story layer, but the way it breeds a sense of bygone nostalgia is rather remarkable.
Although this movie mainly won Oscars in non-acting categories (Best Production Design, Score, Costume Design, Makeup), one area in which Anderson’s films excel is casting. The Grand Budapest Hotel is chock full of recognizable stars, sometimes as mere cameos, including frequent collaborators like Jeff Goldblum, Bill Murray, Edward Norton, Jason Schwartzman, Owen Wilson, and Willem Dafoe. Foremost in the cast is Ralph Fiennes as the titular hotel’s esteemed concierge Monsieur Gustave H., and his portrayal of the demanding dandy is surprisingly layered as he takes under his wing the hotel’s new lobby boy Zero (Tony Revolori, a.k.a. Flash Thompson in the MCU Spider-Man films). Revolori gives a marvelous debut performance opposite Fiennes, and their relationship grows sweeter and more poignant with time. What at first seems like an alpine comedy of manners takes turns morphing into a murder mystery, a prison break film, and a black comedy, somehow surviving these tonal shifts due to Anderson’s unmistakable stamp of ownership.
At times it felt as if Wes Anderson the auteur was tossing in elements he had always wanted to film, such as the extended jailbreak sequence, which goes on too long but seemed like it was fun to implement. At another point, there’s an artfully shot scene of a man being stalked through dark interiors which felt directly inspired by Hitchcock. I do wish that Anderson had excised some of the more mature elements, since they seemed contrary to the film’s overall old-world charm and refreshing eloquence of speech. Yet there is much to enjoy and commend about The Grand Budapest Hotel, from the expansive ensemble to the picturesque locations and cleverly articulate script to Gustave’s gospel of refined gentility and moments of unexpected humor that warrant a chuckle if not a laugh out loud. As with the director’s style in general, the fragmented narrative may not be to everyone’s taste, but I would say The Grand Budapest Hotel is Wes Anderson at his best.
Best line: (Mr. Moustafa, of Gustave H.) “There are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity… He was one of them. What more is there to say?”
As promised, it’s time to post my latest update of THE LIST, my ultimate top 365 film countdown, which is technically more than 365 since I group sequels and similar films together. There aren’t any huge changes this time, with only thirteen films being added, two of which are being grouped with others. Yet we have both low and high rankers, with one even managing to crack the Top 100. And yes, Psycho still somehow remains firmly ensconced at #365.
As we set out on another year of life and movies and Rhyme and Reason, I want to once again thank everyone who reads and follows this blog of mine and takes any interest in my poetry-movie mash-ups and impulsive list-making. After last year, I don’t know what 2021 has in store, but hopefully it will include lots of great movies to add to this list a year from now, plus easier times all around. May God bless us, every one!
Wow, another year gone, one that I’m sure no one wants to repeat. Good riddance, and welcome to 2021! It has now been seven years since I started this blog, compiling my Top 365 movies on a whim and counting them down with a poem, one a day back in 2014. While my pace has grown more relaxed since then, my love of movies and poetry has only grown, and I’ve continued to discover more and more hidden gems and new releases over the years.
While there have been jokes this year about people having nothing to do but watch Netflix, I have had less free time than ever in 2020 due to working from home and attempting to finish my Bachelor’s degree. Thus, I haven’t watched nearly as many films, which has sadly slowed my reviewing schedule as well. Nevertheless, a select few that I have seen deserve a list here at the end of the year as movies worthy to be added to that Top 365 List I mentioned above. It’s the smallest number I’ve added thus far but just enough for my traditional Top Twelve List. Many of them are holdovers from 2019 while a couple are movies I’ve reevaluated and appreciated more with time.
As always, I want to reiterate that these are List-Worthy films I have seen over the past year, not a ranking specific to 2019 or 2020, and solely based on my personal, changeable opinion. I always run behind on movie-watching, which is why so many 2019 films are here, so I’m sure there are plenty of worthwhile 2020 films I’ll need to catch up on, not to mention all the releases delayed to 2021 due to COVID. Also, I wish to give a special shout-out to the Runner-Up movies who came awfully close to securing a place on the list but didn’t quite make the cut: Ford v Ferrari, Parasite, The Upside, Paddington and Paddington 2, Big Trouble in Little China, The Pride of the Yankees, Runaway Bride,Doctor Sleep, Fast and Furious 6 – 8, Don’t Let Go, The Vast of Night, and Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey.
So what do you think of my top movies seen this year? I welcome recommendations of all kinds, and hopefully I’ll be able to fit more movie-watching into my schedule this year and have more than a scant twelve additions to ring in 2022. Here’s hoping that it will be a better year all around!
Like so many others, I was Frozened out long before the inevitable sequel was announced, but Disney still managed to deliver a mostly satisfying mythic follow-up to its biggest hit of the last decade. Issues with the plot notwithstanding, I enjoyed this second visit to Arendelle almost as much as the first.
11. The Big Year (2011)
I haven’t gotten a chance to review this film yet and defend its placement, but I will. It may not seem like the kind of movie to earn a spot on a favorites list, but this under-the-radar film about bird watchers was a charmer from start to finish. Like Please Stand By last year, it’s a film I just liked, from its great comedic cast to its soundtrack to its subtext about life and obsession.
10. Mean Girls (2004)
I’ll be honest: I did not expect to enjoy this movie as much as I did, even while I was watching it. Whenever someone would reference or quote this movie, I got the feeling that I had missed a part of pop culture specific to my generation, and I’m glad to have caught up with this quotable high school satire. Like Heathers, my fondness for the musical version may have something to do with my regard for the film.
Masaaki Yuasa never struck me as a director whose work would appeal to me, but Ride Your Wave caught me off-guard with its deeply felt story of love, loss, and holding on to the past. Fanciful without getting too weird, its sweet romance yields to a gut punch of emotion, and I love anime that can make such a tonal shift successfully.
I had seen 42 before, but it wasn’t till my second watch, after the loss of star Chadwick Boseman, that I truly appreciated it as a top-notch sports biopic. Jackie Robinson’s story is inspiring even without the big-screen treatment, but Boseman and Harrison Ford bring his struggle and success to life wonderfully.
Again, I saw The Jerk long ago, but a rewatch made me ask (between laughs), “Why isn’t this movie on my list?” The juggling cats scene alone leaves me in stitches every time.
Makoto Shinkai’s follow-up to the megahit Your Name had a tough act to follow, but Weathering with You came close in replicating its predecessor’s mix of fantasy and youthful romance (and rain, lots of rain). The animation is second to none, and the music perfectly complements the beauty of the story.
Like 42, Harriet finally gives an African-American icon their due. Uplifted by a ferociously compelling performance by Cynthia Erivo, this faith-friendly biopic only deepened my admiration for Harriet Tubman as an American hero.
Outside of Hallmark Channel, murder mysteries don’t get enough love on screen these days, but writer-director Rian Johnson succeeded in putting a unique stamp on such material with an all-star cast and a gleefully twisty narrative with subtle social themes. More please!
3. Soul (2020)
Although I only saw Soul yesterday, its status as top-tier Pixar is doubtless. Exploring deep themes of inspiration and the meaning of life in a way more understandable for adults but still accessible to kids is a feat I would expect only from Pixar.
As deserving as Bong Joon-ho was for Parasite, Sam Mendes should have won not just Best Director for 2019 but possibly for the decade. 1917 is a monumental achievement in filmmaking, an artful, immersive war film that seems designed to cater to my love of tracking shots.
Just like La La Land a few years ago, I walked away from last year’s Little Women with a rare glow that few films impart. The acting, the scenery, the period detail, the literary message of encouragement that spoke to me personally, the blend of modern and traditional sensibilities – Greta Gerwig brought everything together beautifully. Likewise, I enjoyed the 1994 version with its equally likable leads and more linear storyline, which is why I’m grouping them together. I never thought of Little Women as a story for me, but I love it dearly now.
So ends another year of movie-watching as another one begins. Keeping with tradition, here are some unofficial awards for the List-Worthy movies, including a few Runners-up as well.
Best opening scene: Furious 7
Best final scene: 1917 (considering it’s the whole last third of the film)
Tomorrow I plan to post my updated Top 365 Movie List, incorporating the additions listed above. I do want to say a special thanks to all readers, likers, followers, commenters, and anyone who happens upon this humble blog of mine. I have no delusions of influence when it comes to blogging. It’s just a fun way of translating my love of movies and poetry to the digital word, and the fact that anyone cares to read those words always brings a smile to my face. Thank you, and I hope and pray for the best for all of us in the new year!
The more I see in movies Of a high school student’s woes, The tricks and cliques and politics, The mockery of clothes, The favoritism, criticism, Narcissism, hedonism, Overwhelming pessimism All the films have shown… I feel more blessed for all the pros Of being schooled at home. _____________________
MPA rating: R (for frequent profanity and occasional violence)
Well, it looks like my Blindspot list for 2020 didn’t go as expected, along with almost everything else about 2020. I may have only gotten to #7 out of the initial 12 Blindspots, but I’ll do my best to knock out the last few ASAP before getting to a new list for 2021. Still, I wanted to get one more Blindspot pick out of the way this year, which has also been the most accessible one all year. (It’s on YouTube in its entirety.) I’ve been hesitant to watch Heathers, though; I’ve listened to and greatly enjoyed the soundtrack to Heathers: The Musical, and I just wasn’t sure if the original film would measure up to my expectations, minus the show tunes. I’d say it did meet them, but I can’t help but have mixed feelings.
Heathers follows Veronica Sawyer (Winona Ryder), a half-willing member of the feared/admired high school clique known as the Heathers: Heather McNamara (Lisanne Falk), Heather Duke (Shannon Doherty), and the queen of mean-girl stereotypes Heather Chandler (Kim Walker). Bristling under the thumb of Heather Chandler, Veronica grows close to classmate J.D. (Christian Slater), whose ideas of retaliating against the popular kids become more and more psychotic. Repressed teens may often wish their bullies were dead, as Veronica does, but J.D. is willing to grant such wishes.
Being familiar with the musical meant that very little about the plot of Heathers surprised me, though certain characters were combined and events shuffled around as needed for the stage adaptation. I was mainly surprised that the film already began with Veronica as a member of the Heathers, whereas the musical takes a little more time portraying her initiation. However, where both versions excel is black comedy, which is a very touchy genre for me. I can appreciate something like Beetlejuice, which also starred Winona Ryder and Glenn Shadix the previous year, but such films can also just come off as mean-spirited or in bad taste, which I don’t find entertaining. While I knew going in that it’s not exactly High School Musical, Heathers threatens to be in the latter category with its frequent profanity and making light of teenage suicide and homosexuality. Yet the film has some surprising depth to its satire and manages to weave some insightful themes into its droll plot: the stress of not liking your own friends, the eagerness with which the powerless can exploit newfound influence, the sensationalism that dark subjects impart in those with good intentions and no solution, and the difference that empathy or its absence can have on someone. Oh, and of course the signs that your boyfriend might be a psychopath.
One ingredient I can say I liked was Winona Ryder, on whom I have something of a celebrity crush. She perfectly originates the sarcastic frustration of Veronica and evokes a sense of growth as she seeks to atone for the evil influence of Heather Chandler and J.D. Slater is also an effective bad boy doing his best Jack Nicholson impression, and the rest of the cast excel at their high school clichés, though it’s disturbing that two cast members later died in ways that the film foreshadowed. Another aspect worth commendation is that unique confidence of style that certain ‘80s films had, regardless of director, as if they knew they would become iconic eventually. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Say Anything come to mind, and Heathers likewise feels like the kind of film that knew exactly what it wanted to be, which is rare for high school movies these days that often just try to imitate what came before. Maybe my exposure to the musical accentuated that, as I recognized the origins of songs like “Big Fun” and “Our Love Is God.” So, although my feelings remain mixed on content, I largely enjoyed Heathers as a paragon of dark high school humor, mainly because its ultimate goal is empathy, something that we could use a lot more of nowadays.
Best line: (Veronica) “All we want is to be treated like human beings, not to be experimented on like guinea pigs or patronized like bunny rabbits.” (Veronica’s dad) “I don’t patronize bunny rabbits.” (Veronica’s mom) “Treated like human beings? Is that what you said, little Miss Voice-of-a-Generation? Just how do you think adults act with other adults? You think it’s all just a game of doubles tennis? When teenagers complain that they want to be treated like human beings, it’s usually because they are being treated like human beings.”
Rhyme and Reason 