Tag Archives: Drama

#57: Glory (1989)

27 Thursday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

The Civil War was raging, and good Captain Robert Shaw
Wrote letters to his mother of the army that he saw.
Hurt and honored as a hero, he returned to Boston north
And was named the newest colonel of the Negro 54th.
 
He struggled with his station as a leader of recruits,
An officer of men who did not share his privileged roots.
He trained his infantry with all the harshness he felt right,
And, earning insult and respect, he taught them how to fight.
 
Nobody truly thought a colored regiment would see
The bloody badge of battle so their comrades could be free,
But Shaw and all his men insisted they should have their chance
To prove their love of freedom and their merit to advance.
 
When they at last met combat, Shaw then volunteered to lead
A charge against Fort Wagner, which they could not supersede.
The bravery, the glory of these honored soldiers strong
Ensured that color would not keep our country split for long.
__________________
 

Glory is a war movie that is not only thrilling and tragic but truly glorious. As hellish as battle is, there is a stirring admiration for those risking their lives for the sake of freedom, defense, patriotism, and duty. James Horner’s orchestral score with choral high points possesses a poignancy that captures the elusive “glory” of war itself and beautifies scenes like the final battle with an uplifting paean of majesty. (Strangely, the score wasn’t even nominated for an Oscar, though Horner’s other one that year for Field of Dreams was. Also, I noticed that one section of music sounded quite similar to Horner’s score of The Pagemaster five years later.)

In addition to the prestigious score, the cast is brilliant. Matthew Broderick sheds his Ferris Bueller persona for the role of Captain Shaw, a man caught under the weight of his own responsibility, forced to balance past friendships with expected protocol. Cary Elwes also turns in a serious performance as his friend Major Forbes, who urges him not go too far in his military rigidity. The black soldiers are diverse characters who are neither idealized nor derided. Andre Braugher as Shaw’s unprepared friend Thomas and Jihmi Kennedy as crack-shot Private Sharts provide the human weakness and improvement seen in other “boot camp” movies, while Denzel Washington won an Oscar for his potent portrayal of bitter Private Trip. The infamous “N word” is used frequently throughout the film, and though white characters say it too, Trip is the worst offender, prompting a brilliant reproach from Sergeant Major Rawlins (Morgan Freeman) that indicts not only the sayer of the word but the behavior that can prompt its use.

The period costumes and credible battle reenactments lend the film great realism, as do the repeated voiceovers of the real Shaw’s letters to home. This authenticity complements the film’s balanced storytelling, shifting between the viewpoints of white and black characters with great delicacy. It also points out historical details that many forget, such as the fact that slavery was also present in the Union (in the border states) and that prejudice and atrocities were not limited to the Confederates. Yet neither are whites demonized; even when Shaw is harsh to his recruits, he is attempting to prepare them seriously as few other commanders would and exhibits a keen sympathy despite his distance.

The battle scenes are fierce but not excessive, except for a shocking head shot five minutes in. Though the 54th Infantry’s sacrifice threatens to end the film on an overly depressing note, the intense battle at Fort Wagner (complete with Horner’s score and “bombs bursting in air”) is surprisingly inspiring, and the final scene speaks to the equality of death and what lies beyond. Glory depicts an early and lesser-known high point in African-American history. On this Thanksgiving Day, it seems appropriate to honor those who died to salvage a nation worthy thanking God for. (By the way, I was surprised that the film’s first day of training occurred on November 27, 1862, 152 years ago today.)

Best line: (Shaw, writing to his mother) “We fight for men and women whose poetry is not yet written but which will presently be as enviable and as renowned as any.”

 
Rank: 57 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

259 Followers and Counting

#59: The Sixth Sense (1999)

25 Tuesday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, ,

A patient troubled by his lot
Sneaks into Malcolm’s home, distraught
And furious that he forgot
His promise; Dr. Crowe is shot.
 
The next fall, Malcolm’s hoping he
Can fix his past mistake and free
The young Cole Sear, who tends to see
And hear dead people and their plea.
 
Cole’s mother worries for her son
And wishes he would speak, not shun.
Though Malcolm doubts like everyone,
Soon his acceptance Cole has won.
 
Though growing distant from his wife,
Crowe posits that the spirits rife
Want Cole’s assistance with their strife
To move on to the afterlife.
 
As Malcolm’s guesses recommend,
Cole finds out what the ghosts intend,
Confiding in his mom and friend.
Don’t worry; I won’t tell the end.
________________
 

The Sixth Sense was not only M. Night Shyamalan’s ticket to Hollywood fame but also remains one of the best horror movies ever made. So many horror films are preoccupied with blood, gore, the occult, and finding the most inventive way to deprive characters of their lives and/or limbs. Some are more tasteful than others, and some manage to combine their frights with comedy or action elements that still make for enjoyable entertainment. Yet few horror films reach the dramatic depths of The Sixth Sense.

The acting truly is phenomenal, from Bruce Willis’s tortured Dr. Crowe to Oscar nominee Toni Collette’s overwhelmed Lynn Sear. Yet Haley Joel Osment shines brighter than them all. Truly great child actors are rare; as much as I enjoy Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone, his comedic and dramatic antics are clearly those of a likable child who has simply memorized his lines. Nothing about Osment’s performance feels forced or artificial. He displays convincing anxiety, melancholy, mental distress, and phasmophobia, not just for selected scenes but throughout the entire film. If ever an under-12 actor deserved an Oscar, it was Haley Joel Osment for The Sixth Sense. (He lost to Michael Caine for The Cider House Rules.)

In addition to its famous quote (see below), the film is well-known for its infamous twist ending, which (along with Fight Club that same year) re-popularized such surprise conclusions. Sadly, the surprise was spoiled for me, thanks to a Ken Jennings trivia book, but in 1999, audiences were thoroughly blown away by Shyamalan’s clever tactics, which made The Sixth Sense a film to be studied rather than simply watched. The same effect has since been attempted with varying success by the likes of James Wan, Christopher Nolan, and Shyamalan himself, who has never quite reached the zenith of his first big hit.

Eschewing gore, The Sixth Sense still has the jump scares and tension that make for a good horror film, but everything is more subtle than usual scare fare, with a greater eye toward characters, clues, and color, such as the repeated presence of stark reds. Not everything is explained, such as the details of Cole’s first ghostly intervention, but the raw emotions and refined storytelling make up for any weaknesses. Another thing that sets this film apart from most horror films is its mostly positive outcome. There’s no evil triumphing, no unforeseen threat that might return for a sequel, just relieved reconciliation and bittersweet peace.

The Sixth Sense is Shymalan’s masterpiece. Unbreakable and Signs are Shyamalan’s only other films on my list, and it’s a shame that his reputation has fallen from such early heights. He seemed to do his best work with Bruce Willis, and they’re currently working together on Labor of Love for next year. Here’s hoping it will be a return to dramatic form for both of them.

Best line (the obvious): (Cole Sear) “I see dead people.”

 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

255 Followers and Counting

#61: Life Is Beautiful (1997)

23 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

,

Guido’s a waiter, who lives a charmed life
And woos a “princess” as he just improvises.
His lovable antics obtain him a wife,
Who’s carried away by his crazy surprises.
 
Italy enters a much darker stage,
When Jews are reviled as some lower race.
So Guido convinces his son to engage
In one giant game in a frightening place.
 
The work camp is torment for its residents,
But young Joshua believes all his dad’s lies.
He keeps himself hidden from evil intents
And hopes for a genuine tank as his prize.
 
Though Guido encourages as he is able,
The darkness of war afflicts even charmed lives.
Call it a tragedy, call it a fable,
But Guido ensures that his young son survives.
_________________
 

Life Is Beautiful is essentially two films in one. There are typically comedies with dramatic elements or dramas with comedic elements, but rarely are the two combined so liberally. Roberto Benigni directed and wrote this Best Foreign Language Film of 1997 and excitedly received Best Actor for his alternately silly and heartrending performance as devoted father Guido Orefice. Life Is Beautiful certainly deserves its place as the only foreign-language film in my top 100.

The film starts out as a comedic romp, with much similarity to Miyazaki’s The Castle of Cagliostro, in which a pair of buddies are roaming the countryside (and must fix a flat tire) until the charming rogue of the duo pursues a “princess” who is engaged to a rich man against her will. Guido’s fast-paced, improvisational humor reminded me of Robin Williams, and his shenanigans are so hilarious that his stalker tendencies toward Dora (his real-life wife Nicoletta Braschi) hardly register in anyone’s mind. Though the first half is mostly carefree, there are intermittent clues that, though Guido’s world is all smiles and romance, the world at large is changing for the worse.

By the time Guido’s son (adorable Giorgio Cantarini) enters the picture, national policies and public sentiment have been so subverted by anti-semitism that Guido cannot simply ignore it. Yet politics are hardly even mentioned; instead, Guido shields his four-year-old son from racism and the horrors of the concentration camp with an elaborate hoax that expertly tows the line between funny for Joshua’s sake and distressingly somber for the situation’s. Guido obviously knows his son well, employing reverse psychology and every prudent trick he knows to keep him safe and unanxious. He’s probably the most admirable, selfless cinematic father I’ve ever seen, rivalled by Marlin from Finding Nemo and Chris Gardner from The Pursuit of Happyness.

The film was controversial at the time for its depiction of lightheartedness alongside the Holocaust. I can merely invoke the wisdom of “If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry”; Life Is Beautiful manages both. The horrors and grief of the Holocaust are still thoroughly felt, though not explicitly shown like in Schindler’s List, and it’s clear that Guido’s every upbeat action is for the sake of his son. Without his son and wife to live for, he might very well have succumbed to despondency; it was for his family’s sake that he smiled and laughed through the pain.

Best line: (Guido’s uncle, in an offhand remark that is true on many levels) “Nothing is more necessary than the unnecessary.”
 
VC’s best line: (fellow prisoner Bartolomeo) “They are looking for someone who speaks German to translate their instructions.”
(Guido) “Me! I’ll do it, I’ll translate!”
(Bartolomeo) “Do you speak German?”
(Guido) “No.” [introducing the film’s funniest scene]
 
 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

255 Followers and Counting

#62: Sherlock Holmes (2009) and Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011)

22 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

,

The game is afoot and seems quickly completed,
As Sherlock Holmes unmasks a villain, defeated.
The creepy Lord Blackwood, a serial killer
Who trusts the occult as his spiritual pillar,
Is hanged for his crimes with no fear or remorse,
And good Dr. Watson confirms it, of course.
 
Though Holmes is the master of facts and deduction,
He’s caught by surprise by a lover’s seduction.
Irene Adler challenges him with a case,
Employed by a man with an unrevealed face,
But Holmes is requested to visit instead
The grave where Lord Blackwood arose from the dead.
 
They follow the case to a dead ginger dwarf,
Whose lab provides clues and a fight near the wharf.
The heads of a secret society ask
The aid of the sleuth in the dubious task
Of thwarting the intrigues of Blackwood perverse,
Before he provokes the world’s ending or worse.
 
Holmes can’t stop the murders that Blackwood commits,
And Watson and he are almost blown to bits.
Deducing that Blackwood has plans to dispose
Of Parliament based on the clues that arose,
Holmes verifies this and then hastes to prevent
The fiend and his world-domination intent.
 
Both Adler and Holmes foil Blackwood’s designs,
And Holmes explains all of his mystical signs,
But there is a piece from the villain’s machine
That somehow was stolen by someone unseen.
The case is reopened, in need of more truth,
For now Moriarty will challenge the sleuth.
___________________
 
The game’s still afoot for the genius detective,
Who’s trying to gauge Moriarty’s objective.
This worthy opponent is clever and sly
And fond of explosions within public eye.
He kills a close friend; from behind college robe,
He has plotted and gathered across the whole globe.
 
When Holmes figures out his next target nearby,
He saves Madame Simza, a Gypsy ally.
He then assists Watson with what he’s been dreading,
His faithful companion’s unstoppable wedding.
When Holmes at last meets Moriarty, the fiend
Explains how more casualties still may be gleaned.
 
The honeymoon train ride is cut a bit short,
And Watson and Holmes then seek Simza’s support.
They find her in Paris and learn as they stay
That something’s not right with her brother Rene.
When Holmes thinks he knows where the villain will strike,
His guess is misled, so they head to the Reich.
 
It’s there Moriarty surprises his foe
And nearly defeats him for all that they know.
It seems Moriarty’s amassed more and more,
Intending to set off a fruitful world war.
His final attempt to precipitate this
Will be at a peace summit held by the Swiss.
 
Rene has been altered to be the assassin,
And Watson and Simza must find and unmask him.
Meanwhile, Holmes mentally duels with his rival
And comes out on top at the risk of survival.
Holmes clinches this as Moriarty’s last visit,
As well as his own last adventure. Or is it?
__________________
 

Robert Downey, Jr., is the king of charisma. After his star-making role as Iron Man in Marvel’s Cinematic Universe, who would have thought he’d find such a similarly dynamic role as another literary hero, Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous detective? There’s no shortage of Sherlock Holmeses out there; all of them have their good points, from Basil Rathbone in the old black-and-white versions to Nicholas Rowe in Young Sherlock Holmes to Benedict Cumberbatch in the recent popular BBC series Sherlock. Yet while I very much enjoy Cumberbatch’s modern-day portrayal of the character, no one captures the intelligence and strangely appealing hubris of the 19th-century Holmes like Robert Downey, Jr. Thankfully, an equally engaging Watson was cast to round out the famous duo; Jude Law is not just a passive observer, but a much younger and more spirited companion than usual, able to match Holmes’s wit at least in their clever repartee.

Much of the credit should also go to director Guy Ritchie, who recreates Victorian England with a uniquely visual steampunk sensibility. Holmes’s famous powers of observation are also depicted with visual flair, usually in flashback, daring viewers to recognize all the details he does. Yet here Holmes is also a physical hero, able to employ his extensive knowledge to take out foes even before he engages them. Unlike the strictly cerebral quality of most traditional Holmes, Ritchie’s films are genuinely thrilling, with explosions, tense standoffs, life-and-death struggles, and a band-saw deathtrap worthy of a horror film, all of which is augmented by the droll humor of Downey and Law.

The first film is the better of the two, simply because of its unexpected enthusiasm, not unlike the awesome energy of J. J. Abrams’s Star Trek reboot that same year. Mark Strong is an effectively eerie challenger for Holmes, and though his satanic ritualism bothered me at first, I was glad that Holmes provided a practical explanation to Blackwood’s illusions. Rachel McAdams is also a strong point as Irene Adler, another ally who can match Holmes in certain situations.

As for A Game of Shadows, it was a worthy follow-up, with more resourceful deductions and a great battle aboard a train, though the film lacked something, perhaps more of Irene Adler. Jared Harris was ideally cast as the cunning and capable Professor Moriarty; but Noomi Rapace as Simza couldn’t quite fill McAdams’s shoes as the main female protagonist, and Stephen Fry was a bit overly odd as Sherlock’s brother Mycroft, with his nude disregard for domestic decency. Despite these weaker secondary characters and an overuse of slow-motion, A Game of Shadows possesses the same creative style, witty banter, and narrative ingenuity as the first, with a genius climax that pays homage to the source material and left me wishing for a third film, which may or may not happen.

The danger of mystery films is that, after unveiling the answers to all the burning questions, the story as a whole can fall apart or simply become less interesting on future viewing. Thus, the challenge for filmmakers is to make the plot as elaborate or convoluted as possible so that repeated watches are rewarded (Christopher Nolan and J. J. Abrams excel at this). Guy Ritchie also succeeds in that regard, with all the flashes of exposition creating a mystery well worth revisiting. Between Hans Zimmer’s outstanding tinny score, Downey’s astute magnetism, and the combination of mystery and action, Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes is definitely my favorite incarnation.

Best line from Sherlock Holmes: (Holmes) “You have the grand gift of silence, Watson; it makes you quite invaluable as a companion.” [followed by a punch from said companion]

Best line from Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows: (Watson, reading a note from Holmes) “’Come at once if convenient.’”  [turns note over] “’If inconvenient, come all the same.’”

 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

255 Followers and Counting

#63: The Phantom of the Opera (2004)

21 Friday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

, ,

(Best sung to the title song)
 
Within the opera’s walls,
He lurks unseen.
The Phantom softly calls
To dear Christine.
She sings, impressing all with splendid voice;
The Phantom of the Opera won’t leave
Her any choice.
 
She’s drawn to his allure,
This charming ghoul,
But soon is made unsure
By suave Raoul.
Between her singing coach and childhood friend,
Christine does not know whom she ought to love,
Till threats portend.
 
The opera owners won’t
Obey the ghost
And soon see, when they don’t,
He’s felt the most.
Christine believed she heard an angel sing,
But now she sees the Phantom’s just as mad
As ravishing.
 
The Phantom’s latest play
Is brought to stage;
His mask is torn away
To fear and rage.
He grasps the upper hand for passion’s sake,
But even he must recognize love’s truth,
Despite heartache.
_______________
 

Andrew Lloyd Webber is a master. His musicals have an immersive quality that has garnered multitudes of fans and myriads of awards. It’s one thing for a musical to have a few catchy songs spaced at opportune points throughout a play or film; it’s another to weave a soundtrack in which the songs flow together with such pervasive melody that listeners disregard where one ends and the next begins. Webber has pulled off such a feat several times over, and no film captures that lavish musicality like The Phantom of the Opera.

Joel Schumacher’s films are a mixed bag, and though Batman and Robin still lives in infamy, The Phantom of the Opera redeemed his skills as a director, at least to my mind. From the elaborate exploration of the labyrinthine opera house to the stark winter backdrops, the film has all the spectacle one would expect from a Broadway adaptation. Attention to colors is evident in the frequent combination of black, white, and red, similar to (though not quite as striking as) the red flourishes of The Sixth Sense, with red again representing the presence of the ghost. Though dancing takes a back seat to the glorious music itself, the pantomime choreography in certain scenes is outstanding, particularly during the pomp of “Masquerade.”

None of the acting is quite Oscar-worthy, but again it’s less important than the music. Emmy Rossum is lovely as Christine, though a few notes elude her efforts, such as the final scream of “The Phantom of the Opera.” She’s a talented singer, just not as trained as that of Sarah Brightman, the original Christine and Lloyd Webber’s former wife. Patrick Wilson as Raoul is a bland but handsome lover for her, and Minnie Driver is appropriately dreadful as arrogant diva Carlotta, but the best role is, of course, the Phantom, played with surprising power by Gerard Butler. Though he had no prior singing experience, Butler performs like a pro, with his voice alternating from soft and seductive to severe and monstrous. His is the emotional heart of the film, and though his actions are reprehensible, an Elephant Man-style flashback gives the audience clear reason to pity him and his desire for love, though Butler’s underwhelming make-up doesn’t seem to warrant all the cruelty endured by his character or being described as “hardly a face.” (On a side note for Pirates of the Caribbean fans, I was surprised to see that the Phantom’s onstage victim was played by a barely recognizable Kevin McNally, aka Mr. Gibbs, Jack Sparrow’s first mate.)

The haunting music possesses the rare ability to induce frequent goosebumps, particularly during the Phantom’s sensuous crooning of “The Music of the Night,” by which my VC was especially affected. Lloyd Webber’s venerable arias hold significance for me as well, for I learned to play several during my inconsequential stab at piano lessons, mainly “The Phantom of the Opera,” “All I Ask of You,” “The Music of the Night,” and “Masquerade” (my favorite to play with its staccato strokes). Even when the story itself drags at times, the music is so unforgettably dynamic and the production values so sumptuous that every scene has something to please the eye or ear.

Though the casting is only satisfactory, the human story also carries the film, whether in the colorful world of the opera house of years past to the faded, tragic present. The end brought me to tears the first time, though not for any other character’s loss but for a character’s death itself. My sense of sorrow was simpler back then. All in all, the romance, tragedy, and beauty of The Phantom of the Opera come extremely close to living up to its glorious music.

Best line: (Christine, to the Phantom) “This haunted face holds no horror for me now. It’s in your soul that the true distortion lies.”

 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

252 Followers and Counting

#64: Awakenings (1990)

20 Thursday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

251 Followers and Counting

#67: Paulie (1998)

17 Monday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, ,

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

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

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

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

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

 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

247 Followers and Counting

#69: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)

15 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , ,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

245 Followers and Counting

#70: Big (1988)

14 Friday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, ,

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

#72: Somewhere in Time (1980)

12 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, ,

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