Round 4 of Opinion Battles is here, this time presenting everyone’s favorite heist films. While this is far from my favorite genre, there’s one I can watch any old time, Inception. Be sure to vote for your favorite! (Show Inception some love!)
I have had this selection pick by Drew from Drew’s Movie Reviews and I think this will be an interesting discussion between the contestants. We all love a good heist movie because most of the time the leads are likeable even though they are doing something wrong.
As always I would like to thank everyone who has taken part and to everyone who has voted on previous rounds, we will be announcing the winner of the Sequel round over the next couple of days too. Our next subject will be Non Disney/Pixar Animated films and if you would like to get involved email moviereviews101@yahoo.co.uk we will be covering Animé later in the year so don’t expect to see any of them make the selection. We will need your selections by 28th June 2015.
To continue counting down my top 50 musical scores, here are the next five, some of which might not show up on other people’s lists of favorites since none were even nominated for Best Score. Again, these are exceptional soundtracks that I enjoy listening to. I love pop, classical, country, electronic, alternative rock, and even a little hard rock every now and then, but for magnificent background music, nothing beats movie music, whether it’s the background for some mundane activity or a favorite film. Enjoy!
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#45: Glory (1989), no Oscar nomination – James Horner
Befitting the film’s title, the score combines military-style drums with the Boys Choir of Harlem to evoke the heroism and the sad eminence of soldiers marching into deadly battle. One section of the music sounds suspiciously like Horner’s later theme for The Pagemaster, but it’s so lovely that it’s hard to fault him. The 54th Massachusetts Regiment deserved a moving tribute, and both the film and its music delivered just that.
#44: Requiem for a Dream (2000), no nomination – Clint Mansell
From what I’ve heard and seen, I have no desire to see Darren Aronofsky’s acclaimed study of addiction, which has been labelled the most depressing film ever made. Yet, despite its subject matter, its slow-burn score with those grating violins is surprisingly…um… addictive. Its centerpiece “Lux Aeterna” has been used in multiple movie trailers and with good reason. You could set any film’s best scenes to this song and make it look positively epic. Even more awesome is the remix created for a trailer for The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, known as “Requiem for a Tower,” which illustrates my point in the following video. Can you handle the epicness? (Yes, that’s a word…now.)
Mild violence warning, though nothing graphic:
#43: Elizabeth: The Golden Age (2007), no nomination – Craig Armstrong and A.R. Rahman
I can’t speak to the quality of this sequel to 1998’s Elizabeth since I have yet to see it, though it’s reportedly poorly written and anti-Catholic, but I was easily impressed by the grandeur of its music. You might recognize the best track, “Storm,” from one of the trailers for Man of Steel. It’s another one of those spectacular songs that adds awe to imagery like spice to chili. As you can tell, I’m drawn to music that creates a sense of wonder and majesty… oh, and I like chili too.
This is one soundtrack that is near and dear to my heart, since this film was a memorable piece of my childhood. To provide the score for Disney’s remake of 1963’s The Incredible Journey, Bruce Broughton was brought on and gave Shadow, Chance, and Sassy some inspiring travel music. Lighthearted but motivational, the music spurs the listener to explore what might be over the next hill.
The video shows the film’s ending, so spoiler warning for some and nostalgia warning for others:
#41: Ruby Sparks(2012), no nomination – Nick Urata
This was somewhat of a last-minute entry, and as such, I must apologize to my VC for the elimination of one of her favorite scores (The Horse Whisperer). When I saw this film just recently, the charming score immediately grabbed my attention and never left my mind. It may not fit into the epic mold that many of my other choices do, but I’ve found some quite inspiring writing music, thanks to Nick Urata of the quartet DeVotchKa, who provided the score for the directors’ previous film Little Miss Sunshine. The track “She’s Real” (the last in the video) is my favorite, one of those lovely, repetitive songs that easily gets stuck in my head, like The Verve’s “Bitter Sweet Symphony.” For me, it was the best part of the movie.
A genius brought a dream to life
And dared to call her all his own,
But dreams aren’t what they seem in life
And oft grow past where they are sown.
Attempts to keep a dream confined
Will leave both love and lover stale,
For dreams cannot be hid behind
Possessive fears that they may fail.
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After someone at work mentioned that I bore a resemblance to Paul Dano in Ruby Sparks, I knew I had to see this movie. (Incidentally, I don’t see the similarity.) The brainchild of star Zoe Kazan, who wrote the lead roles with herself and boyfriend Dano in mind, Ruby Sparks begins with a great idea and, despite some stumbles along the way, ultimately fulfills its potential. Paul Dano is much like a young Woody Allen as the rather neurotic young novelist Calvin Weir-Fields, who finds himself unable to match his early success. He’s a loner, whose past relationships haven’t ended well and whose friends include only his dog Scotty and his brother and sister-in-law. It’s not until his shrink suggests a writing exercise that he feels inspired and spits out a description of a girl he’s seen in his dreams. When Ruby actually appears as his very real girlfriend, drama, humor, romance, conflict, and hard relationship lessons ensue.
While the idea may feel a bit similar to The Odd Life of Timothy Green (released just a month later), and other films like Inkheart and Stranger than Fiction have toyed with the concept of writing becoming reality, the moral elements help to set Ruby Sparks apart. Though Calvin discovers that he can change Ruby with a few words on his typewriter, he resolves never to take advantage of this authorial privilege, but he reconsiders when his girlfriend deviates from his expectations. As Kazan has stated, Ruby isn’t just a “manic pixie dream girl,” eager to please Calvin with no faults whatsoever. Though he balks at the title of genius, Calvin’s too good a writer to create some one-dimensional character; whatever her origins, she ends up being a human being, wild and eccentric at times, but also moody and much more outgoing than her beau. He finds that he’s in love with the idea of her rather than the real McCoy. The nuances and challenges of love are sadly lost on Calvin, since after all, why must he change when Ruby is so changeable? I tend to sympathize with him since, being more of an introvert, I’d rather read a book at home than smoke weed with a free-spirited sort-of relative (a surprising Antonio Banderas), but Calvin’s still clearly in a rut he’s unwilling to escape.
While the potential was there for Ruby Sparks to become a rom-com classic, it aims a bit too wide of that mark. A few too many F-bombs and loose morals are thrown in (plus a brief but rather shocking scene from some zombie Z movie), perhaps to give it a more respectable(?) rating of R, and these elements only drag it down for me. Even so, I enjoy movies about writing, and Kazan’s often witty dialogue is one of the film’s strengths, along with stellar acting from all involved, including Elliott Gould, Annette Bening, and Chris Messina.
While Calvin’s changes to Ruby are sometimes hilarious, the fact that he’s exploiting the dignity of his “brainchild” is never lost and comes to a head in a bizarre climax that threatens to rob him of all sympathy. Nevertheless, considering everything before, what follows might be considered one of the most perfect endings I’ve seen in some time, allowing everyone the change and growth they need. On top of that, the film’s score by Nick Urata grabbed my attention and has become a new favorite of mine to listen to while I write. Despite its flaws, Ruby Sparks left me with a positive impression; with work like this, I’d say Kazan and Dano have bright futures ahead of them.
Best line: (movie producer, interested in adapting Calvin’s first novel into a film) “Now, Adam and Mandi come in with a wealth of experience from documentary films. Everything they touch is authentic. They make it real.”
(Adam) “Grounded in reality and—”
(Mandi) “We treat narrative the exact same way.”
(producer) “You saw the baby documentary they did.”
(Calvin’s publicist) “Yes. Made me want to have a kid.”
Within a box, a man awakens,
Buried after being taken,
Held for ransom in the ground
With little hope of being found.
In frenzied calls, he pleads for aid
From people grueling to persuade
And wonders if he’ll ever see
The light of day, above and free.
In fear and anger and distress,
He yields at times to hopelessness.
He hopes a savior can prevent
His grave from being permanent.
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It’s amazing how an ending can ruin the movie experience.
MovieRob recommended this film back during his Latin-directed Genre Grandeur month, and I was intrigued by the concept. It’s very simple but, in this case, very well-executed. Ryan Reynolds is utterly convincing as Paul Conroy, a truck driver in Afghanistan who finds himself trapped in a buried coffin with only a phone, a lighter, and a few other items. His panic is palpable, and as he places desperate calls to his wife, his employer, 911, and a hostage specialist, he evokes a rollercoaster of emotions. At times, he’s a bit hard to like as he cusses out the people who (we assume) are trying to help him, but in all honesty, I don’t know what I might say in his incredibly stressful situation, though I’d definitely be praying more.
As the film’s claustrophobia set in, I realized that I wasn’t just watching a man in a box; I was in there with him. The camerawork is brilliant, using every possible angle of Paul’s trapped body to keep the scene contained, with only sparse distant shots to reinforce his isolation. Considering the film’s limited setting, I was surprised at the amount of tension it could create with phone calls and in such a confined space, particularly when Paul gets an unwelcome visitor.
Despite the above praise, the film’s strengths are sadly undercut by an ending that I found to be deeply disappointing. [Spoilers for the rest of the review]. After all of Paul’s psychological torment, after everything he went through, the filmmakers apparently wanted to take the unexpected route and pull the rug out from the audience’s hopes. Surely the greatest expectation for a survival film is for the main character to survive. It doesn’t matter what horrors they go through, whether it’s cutting off their arm or their finger; there has to be a light at the end of the tunnel. In Buried, the filmmakers taunt us with that light, only to pull a psych-out, a false hope that leaves poor Paul Conroy dead and follows up his death with a bizarrely happy-sounding song during the end credits.
By the end, I was left with this disillusioned, empty feeling. What was the point of having sat through an hour and a half of claustrophobia? Should I have learned some lesson? I suppose the filmmakers were attempting to make some sociopolitical statement about the costs of war and illustrate how people in desperation often don’t find the help they need, how hostage situations often end in tragedy, but I’ve grown to despise films whose only ultimate message seems to be that things sometimes just don’t work out (i.e., 5 Centimeters Per Second).
It feels odd to complain about a film not having a happy ending since many of my favorite films end in grief (Grave of the Fireflies, Somewhere in Time, The Green Mile), but in all of these cases, there is either some silver lining or the film’s tragedy is clear from the outset. Buried is a survival thriller, one which puts its character and audience through the ringer with no satisfaction of being released. Some may enjoy that, but I certainly don’t. Sorry, Rob.
Best line: (Dan Brenner’s last words to Paul and maybe everyone watching) “I’m sorry, Paul. I’m so sorry.”
From the very beginning of this blog, I stated my love for both films and lists, but I’ve only compiled one list, the list. I thought it was time I expand with some others, so I compulsively compiled a compilation of my favorite film scores. A great score can add so much to a movie, increasing tension or emotion or just sheer enjoyment of the overall product. There’s no shortage of excellent scores from many talented composers. Heck, even recent movie trailers have produced some awesome music, thanks to groups like Two Steps from Hell. As a movie music enthusiast, I found culling my favorites to even fifty far from easy.
At first, I thought I would just post the full list, but for anyone who wants to actually listen to my choices, that might be daunting, since my example videos range between two and twenty minutes. Thus, to add some mystery, I’ll be breaking up the list into weekly posts of five at a time. You could settle down for some listening pleasure with the slideshows and clips (where I could find them), or do what I do and absorb them as inspiring background music, such as for writing.
I should be clear that these are my personal favorites, the scores I enjoy listening to even by themselves. There are many iconic ones that complement their respective films well but aren’t quite as enjoyable on their own (Psycho, The Godfather, Jaws, etc.). Also, I’m excluding movie musicals, since their scores often draw from the songs, so sorry to Les Miserables, Evita, and most of the Disney classics (though I was tempted to allow an exception for The Lion King). Also disqualified are scores built around previously created music, so favorites like The Right Stuff, Somewhere in Time, Babe, and 2001: A Space Odyssey are no-goes. Thus, here is part 1 of my top 50 movie scores. Let me know what you think of the choices.
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#50: Batman (1989), no Oscar nomination – Danny Elfman / The Dark Knight trilogy, no nominations – Hans Zimmer/James Newton Howard (just Zimmer for the third)
For my first film of my top 50, I’ve decided to cheat and combine two scores from similar films that are just too close in my appreciation. Danny Elfman’s perfect Batman music for Tim Burton’s first film of the franchise captured the allure of a dark comic book and continued to live on in the opening theme of Batman: The Animated Series. On the other hand, Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy required a bigger, brassier score to match the higher stakes of each film. Hans Zimmer (and Howard) combined brooding violins with a breakneck beat to provide thrilling background music. Batman Begins probably has the best score of the three, IMO.
#49: Sunshine (2007), no nomination – John Murphy
To load pathos to a doomed mission to the sun, John Murphy collaborated with electronic band Underworld. The score for Danny Boyle’s Sunshine is hit-and-miss as far as aural beauty, but “Adagio in D Minor” is the standout piece. It might remind you of Hans Zimmer’s work, such as for Interstellar, but this track reaches for deep emotions and gets them every time.
#48: Hoosiers (1986), Oscar nominee – Jerry Goldsmith
To accompany Gene Hackman’s no-nonsense training of a rural Indiana basketball team, musical master Jerry Goldsmith created this winning soundtrack. At times, it basks in pastoral tranquility, but when the film hits the court, the music gains a zeal to match. I’m not partial to basketball, but the energy of the score is more than enough to get even non-fans like me excited. Go, Hickory!
#47: Gladiator (2000), Oscar nominee – Hans Zimmer/Lisa Gerrard
While some of the music doesn’t really complement gladiatorial games and fights to the death, the score for Ridley Scott’s Oscar-winning epic is properly epic in its own right. Being a fan of Enya, my favorite tracks feature the soothing vocals of similar artist Lisa Gerrard. “Now We Are Free” in particular carries an effective ethnic beauty, sung in some truly elegant gibberish. Slight violence warning for this video:
#46: Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979), Oscar nominee – Jerry Goldsmith / Star Trek (2009), no nomination – Michael Giacchino
That’s right, I’m cheating again, but it’s my list. I couldn’t pick between these Trek favorites. The first Star Trek film was certainly a letdown for both fans and critics, with glacial pacing and a serious lack of story, but its score is hailed as one of Jerry Goldsmith’s finest works. Recycled as the theme for Star Trek: The Next Generation, Goldsmith’s music took full advantage of the brass and string sections to deliver space opera chills that the movie could not. Much more recently, Michael Giacchino did the same with J.J. Abrams’ bold reboot, just with much more bombast and grandeur to match the new film. Listen to both and tell me that’s not a hard choice.
Brilliance lies within John Nash,
Whose confidence avoids a crash
With economic innovation,
Just the thing to make a splash.
As he savors acclimation,
Mathematics his vocation,
Two new ventures enter in,
Demanding love and dedication.
Undercover jobs begin;
A woman’s heart he learns to win,
But when the two get too entwined,
His sanity is spread too thin.
Some parts of life, he’s shocked to find,
Are only in his gifted mind.
Within his mind, the struggles start
Before he’s forced to be confined.
Discernment’s more than being smart,
And though the phantoms won’t depart,
The measure of a brilliant man
Lies in the constant of the heart.
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I meant to review A Beautiful Mind some time ago, but like many things, it got away from me. Now, though, seems like a suitable time, in light of the recent deaths of John Nash and his wife Alicia, who were killed in a taxi accident on May 23rd, the latest victims of not wearing life-saving seat belts.
The film itself is a fitting tribute to his life and achievements, as well as an absorbing glimpse into the uncertainties of mental illness. It won both Best Picture and Best Director for Ron Howard and ranks among his best films. Russell Crowe brings Nash to life, and while he at first may seem like a collection of tics and eccentricities, his conversations with his college buddies display both his insecurities and his intellectual prowess.
While the film starts off as a character study of collegiate genius, confidence, and social awkwardness, Nash is soon drawn into government conspiracies and incessant paranoia. Then the film suddenly takes a Shyamalan-style turn back to reality that is jarring for both Nash and the audience, not to mention his supportive wife Alicia (an Oscar-winning Jennifer Connolly). The twist also makes it somewhat of a puzzle film deserving of repeat viewing. The rest of the film is spent with Nash attempting to maintain his sanity, a hard-fought daily struggle that affirms the touching devotion of his wife and friends and, for all his flaws, cements him as an admirable figure.
The film’s greatest strength is its acting. Crowe is really at his best here, and I will forever hold that he should have won for this instead of the previous year’s Gladiator; that way, Tom Hanks could have won for Cast Away. Oh, well. Jennifer Connolly is also heart-tuggingly persuasive in the way she endures and overlooks Nash’s problem areas to see the man worth loving underneath. Excellent smaller roles are filled by Ed Harris, Christopher Plummer, and the Vision—I mean, Dustfinger—I mean, Paul Bettany.
The film has long been criticized for the liberties taken with Nash’s life, such as the fact that his mental issues were apparently heard rather than seen. Plus, many important details were left out, such as the out-of-wedlock child he rejected and his divorce from Alicia in 1963. Nevertheless, the film’s power doesn’t lie in its adherence to the true history but in the character of Nash himself and his relationships, which I believe are visualized quite successfully. Nash’s surface unlikability is certainly made clear in various ways, but as the character says himself, he is “an acquired taste.” Nash and his wife did reconcile and remarried in 2001 (the year the film was released), so the film’s smoothing out of their romance is simply for the sake of story simplicity. Also, scenes that never happened, like the pens ceremony and Nash’s speech at winning the Nobel Prize (evidently, economics winners don’t give acceptance speeches), serve to heighten the emotion of his accomplishments and aren’t glaring in their embellishment, at least not for the casual moviegoer.
A Beautiful Mind may have its moments of disorientation, but it’s an Oscar winner with dramatic potency to spare, an artistically effective look at mental illness and faithful love, aided by a moving, if repetitive, James Horner score. (The score is incorporated into the Hall of Fame-worthy song during the end credits, “All Love Can Be.”) The final scenes are even more poignant now that John Nash’s life and career have ended, and his final line to his wife (“Come with me, young lady. I have a car outside. Interested in a ride?”) is almost prophetic, considering how they both died. Despite all the problems in his life, the film serves as a moving tribute to a mad genius.
Best line (not the most emotional but my favorite): (Charles, interrupting John’s mental groove) “When did you last eat? You know, food.”
(John Nash) “You have no respect for cognitive reverie, you know that?”
(Charles) “Yes. But pizza—now, pizza I have enormous respect for. And, of course, beer.”
Rank: List-Worthy
What’s your favorite disaster film? For the third round of Opinion Battles on Movie Reviews 101, there’s a nice selection to choose from, so be sure to vote. May the best disaster win!
To celebrate the release of the Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson latest film San Andreas we are going to see what the most popular disaster film really is. We have seen the world destroyed with nearly every possible disaster known to man and a few made up ones ‘Sharknado’.
I would like to thank everyone who has taken part and as always if you would like to take part feel free to email moviereviews101@yahoo.co.uk and our next subject will be Heist movies and will be needed by 14th June 2015.
Darren – Movie Reviews 101
Armageddon (1998)
I don’t care how many people pick this film but I just had to pick this one. In this film we have the Earth being destroyed by an asteroid and it is up to an unlikely team of oil drillers to save the day. This fits the…
For this month’s final entry for Genre Grandeur May – Animated Sci-Fi/Fantasy (Non-Disney/PIXAR) Movies, here’s a review of The Children Who Chase Lost Voices (2011) by S.G. Liput of Rhyme and Reason who chose this month’s genre for us all.
Love begins across a room
With eyes that lock and smiles that bloom
But will not leave the stricken pair
When time to end the brief affair,
For love endures a year apart,
And patient is the waiting heart.
They love their spouses too in spite
Of seeking yearly to unite.
For love endures for decades too,
The changes they must suffer through,
And even when it nears its end,
It will not leave a lifelong friend.
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Released at the height of Alan Alda’s M*A*S*H fame, Same Time, Next Year brought to life both Bernard Slade’s 1975 play and a romance for the ages. As she’s a big fan of Alan Alda’s charm and humor, it’s no surprise that my VC loves this film so much and insisted on my reviewing it.
George (Alda) and Doris (Ellen Burstyn) happen to meet at a seaside hotel in 1951 while on solo retreats and immediately fall for each other, with the romantic mood set perfectly by the Oscar-nominated song “The Last Time I Felt Like This” (the kind of lovey-dovey theme that gets my VC tearing up with just the first few notes; it also concludes the film to earn a place in my End Credits Song Hall of Fame). After falling into bed as well, the two can’t abide never seeing each other again and, since their respective retreats coincide at the same time every year, they plan to meet annually, with the audience checking in every five years or so. The set-up and plot are simple and potentially corny, but Same Time, Next Year is a good example of a film that is elevated by some outstanding performances and dialogue.
Burstyn played Doris on stage as well opposite Charles Grodin, winning a Tony (she also garnered an Oscar nomination), and feels perfectly at ease with the role, even as she metamorphoses over the years from naïve housewife to hippie to confident businesswoman. Conversely, Alda changes in much more subtle ways, yet both remain recognizable and endearingly flawed through the decades. (It’s interesting to note that Alda’s M*A*S*H co-star Loretta Swit also played Doris on Broadway; that would have been a reunion of a different type.) They chat about their lives and families and children and politics, about George’s accountant quirks and Doris’s uncle with a metal plate in his head. As they continue to meet, it becomes clear that much can happen in a year’s time, and their relationship must grow and adapt to the sometimes painful changes they aren’t together to face. And of course, with Alda on hand, there’s a good deal of humor in the conversations too, such as George’s insistence on absolute openness despite habitually lying.
I do endorse this film with reservations, though, since one’s enjoyment from it depends on how well they can suspend their morality. I, for one, believe in faithfulness and monogamy, ideas that may seem foreign in a film about a decades-long affair. Yet as much as George and Doris love each other, they both love their own spouses too and speak affectionately of Helen and Harry. It isn’t all about sex; while most affairs aren’t like this, there is a degree of faithfulness to all the relationships, bonds that are clearly much deeper than a broken marriage or a one-night stand. Whether this is enough to justify the breach of trust is left to the audience, but it’s not enough to spoil my enjoyment of the film.
While my VC’s affection for Same Time, Next Year far surpasses mine, it’s still a romantic dramedy to remember. She claims that the viewer gets to know these characters, even those only mentioned like Harry and Helen, better than almost any other film. While I wouldn’t go that far, George and Doris are indeed the likable sort that I wouldn’t mind reuniting with, maybe, around this time next year.
Best line: (George, often enough for it to almost be his catchphrase) “All right, I didn’t think it through.”
VC’s best line: (George, recounting when they first met) “We had instant rapport. Did you notice that too? (Doris) “No. But I know we really hit it off.”
(Can be sung to “The Devil Went Down to Georgia”)
Travolta went down to Houston,
He was lookin’ for a job to take.
He was young and dumb, just a country bum,
And he was waiting for his big break,
When he came across this young girl
Dancin’ round in a honky-tonk,
A promised land of beer and band
With a metal bull or bronc.
When the misfit pair were married,
Things at first were going well,
But some stubbornness made a jealous mess
And the marriage quickly fell.
While the two just boozed and pined away
And rode that bucking bull,
I began to think that this movie stinks
And was near unbearable.
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This is it, the original bottom-dweller. This is the first movie I sat through and immediately hated, or, to coin Roger Ebert’s quote from his review of North, I “hated hated hated hated hated this movie.” Urban Cowboy was yet another star vehicle for John Travolta, but with films like this, it’s a wonder he became a star at all. I don’t usually subject myself to terrible films, but never before have I asked “Is it over yet?” so many times.
It starts out with some promise: small-town wannabe cowboy heads to the big city to find his fortune, meets girl, marries girl. That storyline alone might have been worth seeing, but the relationship between Bud and Sissy is hardly one for the ages. They meet each other in the famous Gilley’s Club, a multi-acre theme park of booze and cowboy paraphernalia, and Sissy (Debra Winger) has to practically twist Bud’s arm to convince him to dance with her. After some dancing and an argument and a roll in the mud, they’re suddenly walking down the aisle. Did either of them really think a marriage starting like that would last? As it turns out, barely a week passes before Bud’s pride is hurt, and both go their separate ways to make the other jealous, with increasingly depressing results.
One of my biggest problems with Urban Cowboy is the character of Bud. Travolta isn’t appealing in the slightest; he’s a juvenile man-child so unconfident in his masculinity that the slightest hint that someone may be better than he throws him into a blind rage, especially if it’s his own wife. In addition, he’s the kind of bumpkin that gives country music a bad name, content to work (sometimes) during the day and wile away his nights at the bar, picking fights and slapping his wife when she disagrees too much (but not too hard, of course). Plus, he’s supposedly in Houston to work and save up enough money to buy land and become prosperous, yet never seems to realize that he’s pouring his paycheck down the drain every night on beer and bets and pointless mechanical bull rides. Oh, and let’s not forget that he doesn’t just pretend to cheat on Sissy to make her jealous; he freely sleeps around, too stubborn to actually care for the girl he uses (Madolyn Smith) and too dense to realize why Sissy isn’t running back to him with open arms. What exactly am I supposed to like about this guy?
A series of misunderstandings keeps the couple apart, and Sissy ends up with “real cowboy” Wes Hightower, played by a leery Scott Glenn, who’s just a slightly harsher version of Bud, hitting a little too hard and stealing what he can’t earn. If Bud and Wes are “real cowboys”, they’re the worst kind, selfish he-men just trying to prove their own toughness to girls they only moderately care about. By the end, Bud trains Rocky-style for a mechanical bull showdown, and he seems to think that winning it will win Sissy back. How so? A silly championship is not going to repair a relationship; all his training is pointless, since all he really needed to do was go and apologize for his own pigheadedness. While he ends up doing exactly this, it’s as if he can’t muster the effort until he’s once again proven his alpha male status. Of course, it all works out for a happy ending, where assault turns into just desserts and a whirlwind romance rekindles into a whirlwind reconciliation. And then, thank God!, it was over!
This just might be my most hated bottom-dweller, with hardly any redeeming value. The only bright point is the classic country music soundtrack, particularly Charlie Daniels’ “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” For reasons beyond my comprehension, my VC and many other critics actually liked the film itself, looking past its unlikable characters and petty squabbling. She tells me that she finds the movie “interesting for its dysfunctional lifestyle” and as compelling to watch as a car accident, while I’d prefer just to not look at all. I don’t plan to ever see Urban Cowboy again; I have much better things to do than watch white trash with superficial, totally screwed-up priorities cheating on each other.
Best line: (Bud) “All cowboys ain’t dumb. Some of ’em got smarts real good, like me.”
VC’s best line: (Bud’s Uncle Bob) “You know, Bud, sometimes even a cowboy’s gotta swallow his pride to hold on to somebody he loves.” (Bud) “What do you mean?” (Uncle Bob) “Hell, I know I pretty near lost Corrine and the kids a couple of times just ’cause of pride. You know, you think that ol’ pride’s gonna choke you going down, but I tell you what, ain’t a night goes by I don’t thank the Boss up there for giving me a big enough throat.”