Tag Archives: Family

#4: It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)

09 Monday Feb 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , ,

George Bailey lives in Bedford Falls
But does not wish to stay.
“This crummy little town” just palls
Against lands far away.
 
His father barely keeps afloat
The ol’ Building and Loan,
Which causes George to miss his boat,
Or simply to postpone.
 
Young Mary Hatch has always had
A crush on George; the two
Soon hit it off, and Mary’s glad
That wishes do come true.
 
When George’s plans are shot once more
Because of the depression,
His business doesn’t close its door,
Through Mary’s intercession.
 
For years in little Bedford Falls,
George serves the friendly poor,
While stopping greedy Potter’s calls
To yield what George stands for.
 
But then one day, some carelessness
Misplaces needed cash,
And desperation’s stressful press
Tempts George to make a splash.
 
An angel staves off suicide,
And Clarence tries to warn
By giving George a glimpse untried
Of if he’d not been born.
 
This other world without George Bailey
Is dark and forlorn;
He sees the difference he made daily
Since he had been born.
 
He begs his life back, no more dull,
And finds to his delight
The life he sees is wonderful
And friends that aid his plight.
________________
 

My mom and I share my #1 film, but my dad’s personal favorite at least made it to my #4. My highest black-and-white film, It’s a Wonderful Life stands out as Frank Capra’s best film, sentimental in the best sense of the word, full of moments that inevitably bring my dad to tears. My mom loves it too, having first seen it after learning it was Roger Ebert’s favorite film back in the 80s. Though not successful upon release, it has grown in esteem over the years to become one of those perennial Christmas traditions, a reminder of all that can be good in this world.

In addition to a splendid screenplay, the casting is excellent. Jimmy Stewart is the ideal everyman, whether as a decent Joe Schmo in a world of dirty politics or a selfless son/brother/husband/father that changes his town in ways he never could have imagined. Here his acting talent is at its most diverse, evoking a wide range of deeply felt emotions, from disappointment to helpless despair to rebounding joy that tugs effortlessly on every viewer’s heartstrings. Other examples of exceptional casting include a glowing Donna Reed as Mary Bailey, Thomas Mitchell as forgetful Uncle Billy, child-like Henry Travers as guardian angel Clarence Odbody, and Lionel Barrymore as Mr. Potter, an utterly despicable villain in a town of otherwise pleasant folk.

Watching the film now, after so many prior viewings, it’s hard to believe that George Bailey could consider himself a failure, after saving a couple of lives and personally presiding over happy homecomings (most people don’t even do that). Yet the microscope of anxiety leads him to cruel panic, and a series of hardships, one after the other, plausibly drives him to consider suicide. While the film implies that guardian angels are deceased humans (which isn’t true), the intervention of Clarence is more charming and divinely sent than, say, the ghosts in A Christmas Carol. In trying to convince George of his own worth, the film serves as encouragement for its audience. Who hasn’t felt like a failure at some point in his/her life? Who hasn’t wondered if it was all for naught? Yet, like the tapestry argument about how focusing on one thread does not comprehend the full pattern, we never know how and how often our lives touch others’. By now, the interconnection of lives has become a well-worn lesson, from Liberty Mutual commercials to countless films, but It’s a Wonderful Life does it best, giving a full sense of just how essential one man can be to the happiness of an entire town.

My VC and I had a brief debate over whether the film could be considered a “meet-‘em-and-move-on” movie. I at first thought so because of the many people with whom George interacts throughout his life and the infinitely feel-good reunion of an ending. Yet she pointed out that, even if George doesn’t fully appreciate all his friends until the end, nobody really moves on. It all takes place in the same quiet little New York town, a place George at first views as a cage but, like nostalgic viewers, eventually comes to appreciate it as his home. (By the way, the entire town of Bedford Falls was one long outdoor set.) Thus, while It’s a Wonderful Life isn’t technically a “meet-‘em-and-move-on,” it does bear certain similarities, especially by the jubilant end. (Again by the way, as wonderful as it is for everyone in town to donate to George, it probably wasn’t enough to make up for the missing $8,000; it really all came down to his friendship with wealthy Sam Wainwright. Hee-haw!)

Though his films were often derided as “Capra-corn,” Frank Capra was certainly one of the great early Hollywood directors, simply choosing to focus on the good, the charming, and the uplifting rather than the more cynical stuff some critics prefer. His personal favorite of his films, It’s a Wonderful Life exemplifies simple, feel-good messages in an entertaining package sure to break and warm the heart.

Best line: (Clarence) “Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”

 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

284 Followers and Counting

#5: The Sound of Music (1965)

06 Friday Feb 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , ,

(Best sung to “My Favorite Things”)
 
Austria’s hills hold a thrill for Maria;
Her fellow nuns simply have no idea
Just how to manage this angel of stress,
So she’s sent off as a new governess.
 
The children of Captain von Trapp, lucky seven,
Are quite a handful and no seventh heaven.
Though Captain formally keeps them in line,
Governesses find them less than benign.
 
Fraulein Maria is warm and kindhearted,
And soon her musical love is imparted.
Captain’s away so the children will play,
Learning to sing in the happiest way.
 
When the day ends,
Captain is mad,
But the children sing.
Reminded of music, he’s suddenly glad,
And soon they have him crooning.
 
Baroness Schraeder, whom Captain is dating,
Causes Maria to leave just by stating
That he’s in love with Maria, a fact
That brings her back in the next-to-last act.
 
After Maria and Captain are married,
Problems arise from the views he has carried.
Told by the Nazis that he’s to report,
Captain realizes that their time is short.
 
Leaving the country to keep from conforming,
They buy some time by that evening performing.
As they escape to the convent nearby,
Nazis close in to prevent their goodbye.
 
To the mountains,
The von Trapps flee
Into Switzerland.
Barely escaping, the family now free
Continue through vistas grand.
___________________
 

The musical genre is one of my favorites, presumably because I enjoy music itself so much. I love how stories can be told succinctly through song, and the music of whatever I watch typically gets stuck in my head for some time afterward. The most recent favorite I found is a 2009 musical of The Count of Monte Cristo (hasn’t been filmed yet); before that, it was Frozen; before that, the discovery of Les Miserables. Yet as fun as it is to unearth exceptional new musicals, I always return to the greatest of them all: The Sound of Music.

After her Oscar-winning performance as Mary Poppins the previous year, Julie Andrews outdid herself as beloved nun-turned-governess-turned-wife Maria. She has both the voice and the charisma to make Maria genuinely endearing even while everyone else grouses about her. I particularly liked how the life of a nun was not derided as less worthy than married life but simply not for her, a fact that the Mother Superior recognized before Maria. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Christopher Plummer found his most famous role as Captain Georg von Trapp, the icy father who just needs a headache of a governess to reawaken his love of music and his own children.

I will admit that I find many of Hollywood’s Golden Age musicals rather boring, particularly straight dramatic adaptations like West Side Story, but The Sound of Music sidesteps that concern with its classic Rodgers and Hammerstein soundtrack, peppered with much humor and delightful character moments. Whenever it threatens to drag, a well-spaced musical number livens things up, or we get a laugh from the endearingly candid Maria or the “charming sponge” Max Detweiler (Richard Haydn). By the end, “fuzzy camera” romance gives way to a nail-biting thriller finale that shouldn’t leave anyone bored.

Along the way are stunning mountain vistas and some of the finest show tunes this side of Salzburg. Nowhere are these so well-combined as in “Do-Re-Mi,” a song about singing that brims with joie de vivre and ends on an unrivalled high note that always gives my VC goosebumps. The rest of the songs are equally marvelous, with not a dud in the bunch. “My Favorite Things” is always a joy, and the puppeteered “The Lonely Goatherd” is possibly the most exuberant and fun musical number that Hollywood ever offered. Even the slower songs range from intimate to inspirational and are the kind of hummable music that effortlessly ingrains itself into the listener’s ears and heart.

My family has always enjoyed The Sound of Music. My mom was Gretl’s age when it came out, and Maria’s wedding dress and veil stuck in her mind to influence her own wedding train. She even enjoyed the recent live television version with Carrie Underwood, a production that couldn’t compare with the original in any way but was a respectable effort nonetheless. Even if the film is not historically accurate about the real von Trapp family and thus none too popular in Austria, The Sound of Music is my favorite musical and Julie Andrews’ finest hour, a feast for the ears from start to finish.

Best lines: (Captain von Trapp) “It’s the dress. You’ll have to put on another one before you meet the children.”   (Maria) “But I don’t have another one. When we entered the abbey, our worldly clothes were given to the poor.”   (Captain) “What about this one?”   (Maria) “The poor didn’t want this one.”

(“Uncle” Max) “I like rich people. I like the way they live. I like the way I live when I’m with them.”

 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

284 Followers and Counting

#7: Finding Nemo (2003)

02 Monday Feb 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , ,

Though Marlin was once a free-spirited fish,
A tragedy filled him with fears.
For Nemo, his son, he has one simple wish,
To save him from risky frontiers.
 
One overprotective trip out from the reef
Sees Nemo abducted by men,
And Marlin is stricken with panic and grief
At sudden disaster again.
 
He’s met by a very forgetful blue tang
Named Dory, who joins Marlin’s quest.
After fish-loving sharks and an overdue bang,
They head out for Sydney southwest.
 
While Nemo is ushered to life in a tank
With fish-killing nieces expected,
His father and Dory, still drawing a blank,
Are challenged and helped and respected.
 
At last, they reach Sydney (from inside a whale)
And find Nemo after a flight.
Though Marlin considers his rescue a fail,
Both father and son reunite.
 
Employing the newest of fish common sense,
They save fellow fishes nearby,
And Marlin can now be less worried and tense
About his beloved small fry.
_________________
 

Pixar made a name for itself with the Toy Story films, but Finding Nemo truly solidified it as the premier animation studio. DreamWorks, Blue Sky, and even Studio Ghibli can’t compare with the consistent high quality of Pixar, which has only had one real dud (Cars 2), but out of an abundance of hits, my personal favorite animated film has to be Finding Nemo, for multiple reasons.

First of all, as a kid, I always insisted I’d be a marine biologist, and though my goals have changed over time, I still harbor affection for the fascinating denizens of the deep. The film also holds the record for bringing me to tears the fastest. Sure, I was under twelve when I first saw it, but I was deeply touched and invested within the first five minutes, an example of loss from a parent’s perspective rather than the usual child’s point of view.

Despite the heartbreaking beginning, Finding Nemo is arguably Pixar’s funniest film too, thanks to Ellen DeGeneres’s hilariously scatterbrained Dory, who suffers from short-term memory loss. That speaking-whale scene cracks my family up every time. Albert Brooks as Marlin is the perfect straight man to Dory’s lunacy, as well as a loving father, whose overprotective concern is revealed as true devotion in his quest to find Nemo. One more reason for me to love this film: it’s a meet-‘em-and-move-on, as many “quest” movies are. The myriad fish that Marlin and Dory encounter range from misunderstood to genuinely helpful to downright frightening, and it’s amazing how many sea creatures Pixar packed into this film, many of them with unique and comical personalities. Pixar has always excelled at introducing a large number of memorable characters in a way that seems rich and prolific rather than overstuffed, whether the toys in Andy’s room, the residents of Radiator Springs, or the colorful inmates of P. Sherman’s fish tank. (Note how the fish sound off where they were each bought, just as Andy’s toys named their respective manufacturers in Toy Story; also, I noticed that both this film and Disney’s Brother Bear that same year featured a similar joke involving a very limited game of “I Spy.” In addition, I wonder if a SpongeBob reference was intended in the naming of Sandy Plankton or Sheldon.)

The characters truly are brought to life with some of the most visually beautiful animation I’ve seen. The world of the coral reef teems with life and color, and the expressive character designs display deeply felt emotions without making them into cartoony human-fish (like DreamWorks’ paltry Shark Tale, released the following year). Most animated films take for granted the air around the characters, but Pixar outdid themselves with the underwater environment. Everything is moving, from the plants and dust around the sea floor to the realistic light and shadows filtering down from above.

With the heartfelt father-son relationship at its core, Finding Nemo is among the best animated films ever. Rather than an undeveloped dictatorial patriarch, Marlin is given clear motivation to protect his son, as well as clear reason to let go of his extreme caution in favor of trust. Before Toy Story 3, it was Pixar’s highest-grossing masterpiece, of course earning the Best Animated Feature Academy Award. With exceptional visuals and humor, Finding Nemo finds a well-deserved spot in my top ten; I’ve got my fins crossed for Finding Dory next year.

Best line: (Crush the sea turtle, voiced by director Andrew Stanton, after Marlin’s escape from the jellyfish) “Saw the whole thing, dude. First, you were all like, “Whoa”, and then we were like, “WHOA” and then you were like, “whoa….” (It’s better heard than read.)

 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

283 Followers and Counting

#9: Toy Story Trilogy (1995, 1999, 2010)

31 Saturday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , ,

(Spoilers ahead)
 
In Andy’s bedroom, where imaginings thrive,
When he’s not around, all his toys come alive.
Potato Head, Slinky, Bo Peep, Hamm, and Rex
Are always afraid of what toy he’ll get next,
But cowboy doll Woody insists that they stay
Collected and calm on their owner’s birthday.
 
When Andy arrives with his new Buzz Lightyear,
The other toys welcome their space ranger peer,
But Buzz doesn’t know he’s a child’s plaything,
And Woody’s annoyed by his self-deluding.
As Andy snubs Woody in favor of Buzz,
The cowboy grows bitter with thoughts of what was.
 
A misunderstanding at terrible cost
Leaves Woody and Buzz isolated and lost,
And soon they are caught by the sick neighbor kid,
The evil, sadistic, toy-torturing Sid.
As Andy is wondering where his toys are,
Both Woody and Buzz meet with mutants bizarre.
 
When Buzz at last realizes he is a toy,
It’s Woody who cheers him to strive for their boy.
A frightening warning puts Sid on the run,
But now they must rush; Andy’s move has begun.
Some chasing and launching and falling with style
Bring both to their kid, and to Andy a smile.
_________________
 
As Cowboy Camp beckons, there’s sudden alarm
When ol’ Woody suffers a rip in the arm.
A rescue attempt for a playmate in need
Lets Woody fall victim to one villain’s greed.
A nasty collector abducts the old doll,
Who enters a world that he knew not at all.
 
He meets Jessie, Bullseye, and old Stinky Pete,
Who welcome him since he makes their set complete.
He sees he is famous and rare merchandise
And soon to be sold in Japan at great price.
Though Woody insists at first he must return,
He changes his mind out of care and concern.
 
Meanwhile, his friends from the bedroom are out
To rescue him, taking a dangerous route.
Despite some setbacks and a Buzz Lightyear clone,
They locate the cowboy to take him back home.
While Woody is torn on the choice of his fate,
True colors are shown until it is too late.
 
The toys are packed up by the covetous man
And head to the airport, en route to Japan.
Deciding that Andy will value them all,
They swing from the plane with a very close call.
The toys journey home for fun playdates anew,
Until Andy grows up, as all children do.
_________________
 
The time has arrived: Andy’s finally grown,
Less likely to play than to chat on his phone.
Though toys have diminished in number and note,
They wait for their owner, however remote.
Some misunderstandings, which happen a lot,
Leave most of them feeling unloved and distraught.
 
They donate themselves to a nearby day care,
Where there reigns a strawberry-scented stuffed bear.
This Lotso presents them to quaint Sunnyside,
But playtime is brutal for those who don’t hide.
Though Woody escapes to go home, he is found
By Bonnie, whose penchant for play is profound.
 
The other toys learn Sunnyside is unfair
For new toys and those that don’t please the big bear.
When Buzz is brainwashed to imprison his friends,
They follow the plan Woody then recommends.
The prison break seems to go just as they planned,
But Lotso arrives when escape’s close at hand.
 
The tables are turned with a trip to the dump,
Where deus ex machina saves in a slump.
Though Woody would gladly be Andy’s forever,
He hints at the best way for their ties to sever.
The toys find themselves in a new home to dwell
After one last playdate and a poignant farewell.
_______________________
 

The first computer-generated feature film could have been any number of lackluster productions, but as luck would have it, the pioneering feat was accomplished by the most skilled storytellers in the animation business, the folks at Pixar. Toy Story was an intrinsic part of my childhood; with the exception of Hamm, Jessie, and Bullseye, I owned all of the main characters. Woody and Buzz Lightyear are among the most beloved animated characters ever created, and they were introduced at the perfect time in my youth for me to become attached to them as more than just throwaway kiddie entertainment.

The first Toy Story may look dated in its animation compared with Pixar’s more recent endeavors, but even if the humans are lacking, the CGI is ideal for the plastic residents of Andy’s room. With the unique look at suburbia from a toy’s perspective, it was the first glimpse of the immense imagination at work at Pixar, able to introduce an ensemble of characters and make everyone both lovable in their own way and wisely merchandisable. Almost everybody has owned a toy and can thus appreciate the characters’ obvious desire to be loved and valued by their owner. While this connection to the heart allows these inanimate objects to become as real as any animated human or talking animal, the sly humor keeps the entertainment value at a 10, thanks largely to the sterling voice cast. Tom Hanks and Tim Allen were in their heyday in 1995, fresh from dual Oscar wins for Hanks and the success of “Home Improvement” and The Santa Clause for Allen, but, unlike some more recent celebrity voiceovers, both were undoubtedly the best choice. Their progression from rivals to buddies is both hilarious and convincing, supplemented by a host of golden supporting characters, like Wallace Shawn’s timid Rex, John Ratzenberger’s clever Hamm, and Don Rickles’ belligerent Mr. Potato Head. The film won a special Academy Award, predating the creation of the Best Animated Feature Oscar by six years.

As perfect as the original film is, Toy Story 2 is even better. The first film took its core concept (that toys come to life when we’re not looking) and ran with it, giving them real emotions of affection, envy, betrayal, and dejection; the sequel further explores the expansive possibilities of toydom: being broken, being forgotten and abandoned, being just one of countless doppelgangers, being valued as a collectible rather than a child’s plaything. The imagination keeps coming, with greater danger, more memorable characters (Joan Cusack’s Jessie, Kelsey Grammer’s Stinky Pete), and some unexpected laugh-out-loud references to Jurassic Park and Star Wars. Jessie’s backstory, in particular, still wets my eyes and instilled in me what I call “toy guilt,” a reluctance to give up old toys for fear of traumatizing them (I’ve since gotten over it, mostly). The fact that the film was essentially a rush job due to over-optimistic scheduling makes its achievement even more impressive. Since I consider it the best of the trilogy, it’s a shame it’s the only one that didn’t win an Oscar.

I was skeptical about Toy Story 3, a sequel released a full decade after its predecessor, but it delivered the Pixar goods against all odds. While it’s not quite on par with the first two, the improved animation is worlds away and the same unbridled imagination is at work in the creation of a prison camp day care ruled by a plush bear (a grandfatherly Ned Beatty). The film supposedly introduces at least 150 new characters, and I believe it; from the teeming playroom at Sunnyside, full of under-utilized voice talent, to Bonnie’s room (including a Totoro, courtesy of John Lasseter’s fascination with Miyazaki), the new faces are abundant and diverse, though not all quite as memorable. The film’s heart and action are plentiful, though the humor isn’t quite as generous (I didn’t find Buzz’s Spanish mode as funny as the filmmakers seemed to think it is). This threequel is a source of some contention between my VC and me. She was rather depressed at the loveless situation at the beginning and was left unsatisfied with Andy giving up his toys in the end, feeling that they should have awaited his children in the attic, like my Buzz and Woody currently are. Yet deep down, I think Andy knew that toys are meant to be played with, and children are their core happiness. As mentioned in Corinthians, he “put away childish things,” but not with the cold indifference of Emily in Toy Story 2; he took the time and effort to give them a fitting home and one last playtime to bid them goodbye. This was also important because he was able to pass on their names to Bonnie; without knowing the titles of Woody and Buzz, she might have called them Mrs. Nesbitt or some such moniker. As frighteningly dramatic as the dump sequence is, the final scenes are equally bittersweet, a near-perfect tear-inducing conclusion for these beloved characters. As much faith as I have in the creative minds at Pixar, I almost wish they would leave Toy Story 4 alone and avoid the potential stumble of fourth movies, which are even harder to pull off than threequels, as evidenced by the Pirates and Indiana Jones series.

Rotten Tomatoes indicates that the Toy Story films form the most acclaimed trilogy ever, with 100% for the first and second and a 99% for the third. I’ve enjoyed every one, as well as Buzz’s spinoff TV series Buzz Lightyear of Star Command, a fun and imaginative sci-fi show from my youth. Though I’ve grown up parallel to Andy and outgrown my own childhood companions, at least I’ll never outgrow these beloved toy stories.

Best line from Toy Story: (Woody) “YOU ARE A TOY! You aren’t the real Buzz Lightyear! You’re – you’re an action figure! You are a child’s plaything!”   (Buzz) “You are a sad, strange little man, and you have my pity. Farewell.”
 
Best line from Toy Story 2: (2nd Buzz, to Zurg) “I’ll never give in. You killed my father.”   (Zurg) “No, Buzz, I am your father.”   (2nd Buzz) “Noooooooo!”   (a great line in any movie)
 
Best line from Toy Story 3: (Jessie) “Woody, we were wrong to leave Andy. I—I was wrong….”   (Mr. Potato Head) “Jessie’s right, Woody. She was wrong.”
 
 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

283 Followers and Counting

#11: The Princess Bride (1987)

27 Tuesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

Listen, dear viewers, and you shall be read
A story just like a sick child in bed,
About miracles, fencing, escapes, and true love,
Promises made and the efforts thereof
And a farm boy named Westley thought to be dead.
 
He said to his love that he would return
And not a thing could keep him away,
But Buttercup is upset to learn
That the Dread Pirate Roberts came to slay.
Burdened by grief, she catches the eye
Of Prince Humperdinck, a duplicitous guy.
Ere they are wed, she is caught by three
Colorful, talented killers-to-be,
Vizzini, Montoya, and Fezzik, who flee.
 
They are followed, though, by a man in black,
Coming to kidnap their prisoner back,
Facing the three of them, one by one,
Defeating each, and once he has won,
From Buttercup, Westley gets a smack.
The two through the Fire Swamp take their track
And fight when enormous rats attack.
Catching them, Prince Humperdinck won’t share
That he’s locked Westley in the Pit of Despair.
 
Meanwhile, Montoya and Fezzik unite,
Planning revenge for a family crime,
But they need Westley to plan it this time.
The two of them free him, though mostly dead,
Revive him with a miracle bite,
And before the wedding bells can chime,
Help him inside ere the couple can wed.
 
When he finds the man he’s been hunting for,
Montoya takes revenge at last,
And because true love is unsurpassed,
When Westley challenges pain galore,
Prince Humperdinck will not compete
Against a man death can’t defeat.
When Buttercup and the trio of men
Depart for safer hill and glen,
The two lovers kiss as never before.
You wouldn’t mind hearing the tale once more?
As you wish; I’ll come again.
______________________
 

The Princess Bride is one of the most perfect films around, not in any grand or profound way, but in its timeless, endlessly amusing creation of a modern fairy tale, based off the book by William Goldman, who also wrote the screenplay. I know I’m not alone in saying that this is a film I could watch any day of the week, while quoting much of the ingenious dialogue. It never ceases to entertain, and I think everyone involved in its production realized what a special film they produced.

The cast is a treasure trove of comedic talent, from Wallace Shawn as disdainful Vizzini to Andre the Giant as strong but gentle “land mass” Fezzik to Billy Crystal’s hilarious cameo as Miracle Max, who proves that chocolate does indeed have life-giving properties. Cary Elwes as Westley and Robin Wright as Buttercup (one of her first roles) are ideal starry-eyed lovers, the one gallant and dashingly British and the other beautiful, though rather helpless. The film is well-recognized for its abundance of potent quotables, and every character gets a memorable line, often several. Who can forget Mandy Patinkin as Inigo Montoya spouting his rehearsed threat to his father’s killer, or Wallace Shawn’s “Inconceivable,” said as only he can? Some droll moments are also given to the villains, Chris Sarandon as self-assured Prince Humperdinck (I wonder if his first name is Engelbert) and Christopher Guest as soft-spoken sadist Count Rugen. Even small roles like Mel Smith as the Albino and Peter Cook as the Impressive Clergyman get some Monte Python-style humor from their unexpected voices.

Though The Princess Bride parodies typical fairy tale tropes, it embraces them as well, like a more sincere version of a Mel Brooks comedy. Consider when Vizzini calls out “Behold, the Cliffs of Insanity!” followed by some overly dramatic music, yet the cliffs themselves do play a role in the tale, and their pretentious name doesn’t preclude real danger. The film’s depicted framework of a bedtime story, read by Peter Falk, lends the film a detached fascination, so that the audience can laugh while also becoming invested in the characters’ struggles. Quite a lot of work went into the filming as well, particularly the expert duel between Elwes and Patinkin, who did all but the somersaults themselves. Moments of whimsy alternate with moments of genuine passion to create a family film for all ages (though a single profanity from Fred Savage as the boy was unnecessary). The Oscar-nominated song “Storybook Love,” sung by Willy DeVille, is also worthy of a place in my End Credits Song Hall of Fame.

As I said, I can watch this film forever, but it was only recently that my attention was brought to a small but important detail. The Princess Bride is a Christmas movie! I didn’t believe it at first, but at the very beginning, there are lights and snow outside and a small lighted tree out in the hall, as well as a Santa hanging behind Peter Falk the whole time. I always assumed the book was a get-well-soon gift, but it’s a Christmas present. Now we all have one more reason to watch it, as if we needed another excuse. It’s got everything a good fairy tale needs and a great deal more besides.

Best lines (I wish I could just say the whole movie): (Vizzini, when Westley doesn’t fall from the Cliffs) “He didn’t fall? Inconceivable!”  (Inigo) “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
 
(Inigo Montoya) “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
 
(Miracle Max, when he lifts and drops Westley’s lifeless arm) “I’ve seen worse.”
 
(Westley, after knocking out the giant Fezzik) “I do not envy you the headache you will have when you awake. But for now, rest well and dream of large women.”
 
(Westley, after returning from almost-death) “Who are you? Are we enemies? Why am I on this wall? Where is Buttercup?”   (Inigo) “Let me explain. [pauses]  No, there is too much. Let me sum up.”
 
(Westley and the Grandfather) “As you wish.”
 
 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

283 Followers and Counting

#12: Beauty and the Beast (1991)

27 Tuesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

(Best sung to “The Mob Song”)
 
In the countryside of France,
Where the bakers say “Bonjour,”
Lives a lovely mademoiselle who’s always reading books galore.
Belle just doesn’t quite fit in,
But still that doesn’t stop Gaston
From insisting that she marry him for his conceited brawn.
 
Through the mist, through the woods,
When Belle’s father tries to travel,
He ends up inside a castle dark and grim.
Belle protests and suggests
That the castle’s beastly owner
Make her stay his prisoner instead of him.
 
She’s afraid of her host and his temper,
And alarmed but then charmed and impressed
By the servants and shows
And a spellbinding rose,
Till the beast makes her flee,
Too oppressed.
 
While en route, though, the brute
Saves her life, and so from then on,
Their relationship begins to slowly grow.
When the Beast comes to love
And Belle sees her father needs her,
Her detainer has the heart to let her go.
 
But Gaston has a plan to coerce her
To be his, but she will not be played.
When she speaks of the Beast,
Gaston’s rage is increased,
And he rallies best and least
To invade.
 
Servants fight and defend;
As the raiders are assaulted,
Bold Gaston will not be halted from his prey.
Both engage, and both fall,
But true love will conquer all,
And thus without a curse’s thrall,
Love will stay.
_____________________
 

Beauty and the Beast is the epitome of a Disney fairy tale musical, complete with magic mirror, enchanted castle, magical rose, bleak curse, stunning animation, and Oscar-winning music of the highest order. Though preceded by The Little Mermaid, this was the undeniable sign that the Disney Renaissance was well under way and that animated musicals could be taken seriously, even nominated for Best Picture.

First off, the animation is gorgeous, a combination of traditionally animated characters and certain CGI backgrounds that allow for some astoundingly beautiful moments, like the famous ballroom dance beneath the chandelier. While Hunchback and Tarzan had similarly striking visuals, Beauty and the Beast was one of the first Disney films to possess a smoothness of line and motion unseen in strictly hand-drawn features thanks to a new CAPS technology (technically, The Rescuers Down Under was the first).

The beauty of the animation is matched only by the music, which garnered two of Alan Menken’s well-deserved Oscars for Best Score and Best Song. From the very first musical number incorporating Belle, Gaston, and the entire village, my VC could tell that this was not a typical cartoon with tunes, but a new breed of Broadway-quality musical that was sure to be adapted to the stage, which it was. Her favorite song, though, is Gaston’s clever tavern chantey, one of the few villain songs to not be or even sound villainous. Though “Be Our Guest” and the Oscar-winning title song are more well-known, I’ve always preferred the dark, rhythmic “Mob Song” right before the castle siege.

The film is also notable for its moral themes. For once, the heroine is not a rebellious girl eager to disobey silly rules, but a noble daughter sacrificing herself for her father. The lesson of “beauty lies within” is established from the initial prologue, but rather than being a generic villain, Gaston illustrates the opposite, that evil can also lie within even with outward beauty. The romance between Belle and the Beast is not rushed, and even though its growth is depicted through the typical musical montage, the sudden sacrifice preceding it allowed a solid starting point for the Beast’s sudden change of heart and manner.

Beauty and the Beast is the purest example of a fairy tale adaptation I can imagine, created when they could be light-hearted or dark on their own terms without the grim revisionism of nowadays. Disney hit its stride with this musical masterpiece, a film in which music, characters, and animation seem to converge effortlessly into enjoyable entertainment for kids and adults alike.

Best line: (Gaston’s admirers, during his song) “For there’s no one as burly or brawny/ [Gaston] As you see, I’ve got biceps to spare,/ [Lefou] “Not a bit of him scraggly or scrawny,/ [Gaston] That’s right, and every last inch of me’s covered with hair!” and (Gaston) “I use antlers in all of my decorating!”

 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

283 Followers and Counting

#15: The Prince of Egypt (1998)

23 Friday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

(Best sung to “When You Believe”)
 
In captivity,
In Egypt, Hebrews send their prayer
Waiting for their God above
To free them from their yoke.
Young Moses grows up free,
Adopted into Pharaoh’s care,
Till the past he knew not of
Cannot help but provoke.
 
He can’t live as a fraud
And sadly flees.
He finds refuge
And life anew.
Sent by his awesome God
To Rameses,
He has unease but follows through,
Though Pharaoh disagrees.
 
Brothers long ago,
The prophet and the Pharaoh clash.
All the plagues sent from the Lord
Demand his people freed.
The Pharaoh’s hardened “No”
Requires death to end the lash.
No such cost can be ignored,
And Pharaoh has to heed.
 
God’s people thus depart
To promised land,
Until the sea
Lies in the way.
Pharaoh, more sore than smart,
Makes his last stand
Until the hand of God that day
Provides salvation grand.
__________________
 

Hollywood isn’t known for remaining faithful where Biblical source material is concerned, but the greatest proof that it is possible is The Prince of Egypt, one of the first animated films of Dreamworks’ filmography. While Dreamworks Animation’s lineup has ranged from excellent (How to Train Your Dragon, Chicken Run) to mediocre (Shark Tale, Bee Movie), not since have they reached the high mark they set right from the beginning.

No Moses film yet has stuck completely to the Book, often downplaying Aaron’s involvement and Pharaoh’s vacillation during the plagues. Though this one too takes its liberties, it indeed remains faithful to the “essence, values, and integrity” of the source material, as stated in the prelude note that reveals the filmmakers’ respect for the story they’ve undertaken. The film does borrow a few aspects of The Ten Commandments, but improves upon every one. Rather than making Moses and Rameses rivals from the beginning due to a contrived love triangle, it makes them close friends and brothers pitted against each other in a tragedy of pride and divine intervention. Rather than Moses’ murder of the Egyptian being violent but somehow justifiable, in this version it is instead portrayed as an accident, allowing Moses to remain righteous while providing the shame to propel him to self-banishment. (I realize it was no accident in the Bible, but I like this kind of change.) All this improvement also comes with masterful abbreviation; events that took The Ten Commandments half an hour to portray are depicted in mere minutes of concise storytelling, sometimes funny but often of surprising depth.

Enhancing both plot and entertainment, the film’s soundtrack by Stephen Schwartz is inspired, with every song memorable and perfectly spaced in the film’s runtime. From Israeli singer Ofra Haza’s impassioned “Deliver Us” at the beginning to the Oscar-winning “When You Believe” as the Hebrews depart Egypt, the music serves the story rather than replacing it, just as the CGI flourishes enrich the beautiful hand-drawn animation. I’ve often hummed Jethro’s “Through Heaven’s Eyes” whenever speed is required (somehow it seems to make me move faster), while “The Plagues” has a dreadful majesty reminiscent of the music in Disney’s Hunchback.

Likewise, The Prince of Egypt is a perfect example of star power applied judiciously. The voice actors are all big names, including Val Kilmer as Moses, Ralph Fiennes as Rameses, Patrick Stewart as Seti, Sandra Bullock as Miriam, and Michelle Pfeiffer as Tzipporah. In each case, the voice so fits the character that I don’t just hear Jeff Goldblum but a believable Aaron, not just Danny Glover but a jolly Jethro. I could hardly recognize Steve Martin and Martin Short as Pharaoh’s magicians, who nonetheless have fun with their own song, “Playing with the Big Boys.” It’s interesting to note that, just as Kilmer also voiced the powerful yet personal depiction of God (with background whispers from the rest of the cast), Charlton Heston also voiced God in The Ten Commandments.

The most moving part (pun intended) is rightly the parting of the Red Sea, just as much a wonder to behold as it was in DeMille’s 1956 film. A shot of some enormous fish in the wall of water, lit by distant lightning, has an eerie power best suited to this animated outlet. The Prince of Egypt combines high studio quality with an earnestness unseen in many Biblical films, eschewing dark revisionism and modernist explanations in favor of faithful and profound filmmaking. It’s one of the few animated films that I feel should have been nominated for Best Picture, a brilliant example of how cartoons can be elevated to dramatic excellence.

Best line: (Miriam, singing “When You Believe”) “Many nights we’ve prayed, with no proof anyone could hear. In our hearts a hopeful song we barely understood. Now we are not afraid, although we know there’s much to fear. We were moving mountains, long before we knew we could….”

 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

282 Followers and Counting

#17: The Wizard of Oz (1939)

21 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

(Best sung to “Over the Rainbow”)
 
In a black-and-white Kansas, on a farm,
Sweet young Dorothy fears that Toto will come to harm.
From this desolate landscape, she takes flight
To a land full of color by a tornado’s might.
 
Her high arrival kills a witch,
Which pleases Munchkins whose high pitches hail her,
But Dorothy’s a target soon;
A western wicked witch with broom
Tries to assail her.
 
On the Yellow Brick Road, she makes her way
To the Wizard of Oz, who might send her home that day.
She makes friends on her journey who take part:
Scarecrow wants brains, and Tin Man dreams of a loving heart.
 
A craven lion needing nerve
Joins them in hopes that Oz will serve their hoping.
But first they must confront the Witch,
Who takes the girl without a hitch
And leaves her moping.
 
When the witch has been melted, randomly,
They return to the Wizard for their gratuity.
Though the fraud does his utmost, once he’s flown,
That’s when Dorothy knows that there is no place like home.
___________________
 

As prominent as Indiana Jones is, The Wizard of Oz is even more ingrained into popular culture. Without any reservations, I can call it the best movie for children ever made. A uniquely American fantasy, it’s imaginative and well-crafted enough to create the ravishing fantasy world of Oz, but also simple and sincere enough to appeal to the youngest of viewers.

Its hallowed spot in our culture owes much to how old it is, released in 1939 along with other classics like Gone with the Wind and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Because of its age, even grandparents recall seeing it when they were children, and it effectively brings out the child in everyone, whether to sing along to the Munchkins’ “Ding, dong! The Witch is dead!” or to shed a tear at Dorothy’s sappy but still heartwarming appreciation of home sweet home. If the film were made today (which it wouldn’t be, of course; the ingenious switch from black-and-white to color is also a product of perfect cinematic timing), I doubt it would receive the same universal praise. For many critics, sentimentality is easy to condemn, and only uncompromising nostalgia makes it into something enchanting.

Once Dorothy reaches Oz, most of the acting is, well, overacting, as was typical of the time, but rather than laughable histrionics, this lends the film an enhanced storybook quality, as if a parent were reading the lines of a bedtime story and pretending for their delighted listener. Judy Garland exudes innocent wonder as she enters the rainbow world of Oz, like a precursor to Lucy stepping through the wardrobe. She’s the Alice-like straight-girl to the unusually charming comrades she obtains in Oz/Wonderland, allowing the audience to marvel at their peculiarity while accepting them as lovable companions of childhood. Ray Bolger as the Scarecrow, Jack Haley as the Tin Man, and especially Bert Lahr as the Cowardly Lion are as synonymous with the film as Margaret Hamilton’s Wicked Witch of the West, the most iconic witch of all time, complete with broom, pointy hat, green skin, sinister cackle, pyrotechnics, and armies of memorable minions.

These aspects alone might have been enough to make it a childhood favorite, but the filmmakers outdid themselves in every way. While many scenes are obviously on an elaborate set, the set design is phenomenal, particularly the bright-hued (and very small) Munchkinland and the Witch’s cliffside castle. Plus, there’s outstanding choreography, whether with the crowds of the Emerald City or just the four main characters skipping down the Yellow Brick Road. Plus, there’s instantly recognizable quotes aplenty (“I’ll get you, my pretty…and your little dog too”; “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my”; “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain”). Plus, there’s the fantastical special effects (which surprisingly did not win an Oscar), some dated but others still impressive, like the realistic twister and the fanciful costumes. Plus, there’s the most classic of classic soundtracks from Edgar Harburg and Harold Arlen, including the Oscar-winning “Over the Rainbow,” the #1 tune on AFI’s list of 100 cinematic songs, though I always enjoy the rhythmic laughter of “The Merry Old Land of Oz” as well.

All combined, this greatest adaptation of L. Frank Baum’s book is still the cinematic delight it was upon its release decades ago. Its classic status relies heavily on nostalgia, for The Wizard of Oz easily conjures the wonder, fear, and excitement that my family had when we each first saw it. It deserves to be one of the first films of childhood, so that adults can reminisce while the kids are introduced to the marvelous land of Oz.

Best line (none of the obvious): (Dorothy) “How can you talk if you haven’t got a brain?”  (Scarecrow) “I don’t know, but some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don’t they?”

VC’s best line:  (Dorothy) “There’s no place like home!”

 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

282 Followers and Counting

#20: The Incredibles (2004)

17 Saturday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

In a comic book world full of heroes and powers,
Which nonetheless isn’t too different from ours,
Strong Mr. Incredible uses his skills
To stop evil, you know, just everyday thrills.
The day that he marries Elastigirl, though,
Is one he’ll regret, for in fighting a foe,
He makes one, and supers are forced to lie low.
 
Years later, he’s stuck in a job that he hates,
With kids and a wife who’s content with their fates.
In trying to relive his old glory days,
He captures a secretive agency’s gaze.
Things start looking up when he stops a robot,
Until he’s betrayed by his sponsor and caught.
A fan has become the new villain Syndrome,
Who plans to wreak havoc and falsehoods back home.
 
When Helen goes searching for him high and low,
With speed demon Dash and shy Violet in tow,
They’re threatened as well, but when family fights,
They do so together…and in matching tights.
They race to the city to stop Syndrome’s plot
And take out his deadlier rampaging bot.
When Syndrome is vanquished and peace is renewed,
These heroes defend when new villains intrude.
_____________________
 

While The Avengers is a better movie strictly in the superhero genre, The Incredibles offers even more: a believable family dynamic, an insightful comparison of talent versus fitting in, and yet another example of Pixar’s groundbreaking animation. Released during Pixar’s golden years, The Incredibles didn’t quite please me upon my first viewing for some reason; perhaps it was because I had already seen two other films in the theater that day. Future watchings have only improved my opinion of this exciting family favorite.

The world full of supers depicted at the beginning is practically a comic book come to life, full of routine heroics, gleeful admirers, fancy tech, and “playful banter”; from what we’ve seen, it’s not surprising that Mr. Incredible thinks they’re untouchable. Yet the story takes an unforeseen realistic turn, with lawsuits and accusations and an eventual suburban nightmare in which Bob Parr, like Jack Campbell in The Family Man, finds no satisfaction. (The only major plot hole I can see is that of supervillains, which I assume existed in the world at the beginning. It seems to me that the main reason for the existence of superheroes is to combat supervillainy, which wouldn’t obey some government sanction anyway. With all the heroes off-duty, who’s to stop the likes of Bomb Voyage or worse?)

Craig T. Nelson is ideal for Mr. Incredible, able to vocalize both oppressive boredom and heroic spirit, while Holly Hunter brings feminine resilience to his wife Helen/Elastigirl. Their son Dash (Spencer Fox) fits perfectly into the mischievous son archetype, while Sarah Vowell as daughter Violet is a bit annoying until she gets into costume. Indeed, all of the Incredibles look better with their black masks; perhaps it was intentional in the character design, but they all seem lacking without their matching red super suits. Other great voice performances come from a pre-Nick Fury Samuel L. Jackson as Bob’s pal Lucius/Frozone and director Brad Bird himself as snooty fashion designer Edna Mode.

As with so many of Pixar’s Oscar-winning features, The Incredibles combines a number of outstanding elements to perfection. Michael Giacchino’s suave yet bombastic score blends with the stylish gadgetry to create a distinctly James Bond feel, while the familiar superpowers (borrowed from the properties like Mr. Fantastic, the Flash, and the Invisible Woman) are used to ingenious effect, particularly Elastigirl’s elongated scuffle with guards and Dash’s thrilling jungle chase with those awesome bladed hovercraft. Not to mention the costume lesson that caused us to never look at capes the same way.

One of the few great superhero films to not possess a comic source material, The Incredibles won Academy Awards for both Best Animated Feature and Best Sound Editing. Mature enough to take seriously matters of marital infidelity and superhero genocide, yet lightweight and comedic enough for repeated family viewing, The Incredibles continues to be one of Pixar’s best. While most of Pixar’s films don’t need sequels (though that hasn’t stopped them), The Incredibles is one that could certainly deserve one, which is in the works, last I heard. I only hope it can compare to the original.

Best line: (Lucius) “Honey?”
(Honey) “What?”
(Lucius) “Where’s my super suit?”
(Honey) “What?”
(Lucius) “Where – is – my – super – suit?”
(Honey) “I, uh, put it away.”
(Lucius, after an explosion) “Where?”
(Honey) Why do you need to know?”
(Lucius) “I need it!”
(Honey) “Uh-uh! Don’t you think about running off doing no derring-do. We’ve been planning this dinner for two months!”
(Lucius) “The public is in danger!”
(Honey) “My evening’s in danger!”
(Lucius) “You tell me where my suit is, woman! We are talking about the greater good!”
(Honey) “’Greater good?’ I am your wife! I’m the greatest good you are ever gonna get!”
 
 
Rank: 59 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

281 Followers and Counting

#24: Tarzan (1999)

10 Saturday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

(Best sung to “Son of Man”)
 
To the jungle, humans come
And are challenged to survive;
Soon only a babe is left alive.
 
Then adopted by gorillas,
He is raised stalwart and strong,
Strong to face the jungle’s killers
And labor to belong.
 
Son of man and of primate,
Tarzan is amazed to see
Strangers like him who await
Sightings of gorillas roaming free.
 
When one is soon in danger,
He swoops in and rescues Jane,
Who’s enamored of this stranger,
This lord of his domain.
 
Tarzan is forbidden to
Put his family in harm’s way,
But he learns so much that’s new
That he sneaks away to Jane each day.
 
In trying to delight her,
The gorillas he reveals,
And wicked Clayton follows on their heels.
 
Though he thought to leave his homeland,
Tarzan returns to fight
And defend his friends and withstand
The poachers in the night.
 
Son of man and of primate,
Tarzan then is joined by Jane;
Ruler of the jungle great,
Tarzan will remain to yell and reign.
__________________
 

Sometimes cited as the last great film of the Disney Renaissance, Tarzan is indeed one of the most beautifully created animated films I’ve seen. It came out right when I was getting old enough to enjoy movies as more than just a juvenile distraction and was one of the first Disney films I fully understood. Oh, and it made me cry at the end. That’s always list-worthy.

Adapted from the character created by Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan puts the Disney spin on its source material, with funny animal sidekicks and musical accompaniment, but it doesn’t feel as potentially incongruous as The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Rosie O’Donnell and Wayne Knight are ideal comic reliefs as Terk and Tantor, while the resonant voice of Brian Blessed adds an ingratiating menace to Clayton, who meets an unusually horrific end. (Then again, this is the studio that has smashed, dropped, disintegrated, eaten, shattered, dragged to hell, and shish-kebobed their other villains, so perhaps it’s not unusual.) Tony Goldwyn is rather average as Tarzan, aside from an outstanding yell, but Minnie Driver’s voice fits Jane perfectly, bookish and British. Not to mention, there’s Lance Henriksen as stern Kerchak and Glenn Close as Kala, who provides a touching example of adoption and maternal love.

No other Disney film matches the lush imagery of the African jungle, created with a pioneering and award-winning animation technology called Deep Canvas. As Tarzan swoops effortlessly through the trees, the bright foliage provides an incomparable living environment, put to good use in the often spectacular action scenes. Even the water has a uniquely fluid appearance.

Of course, I must mention Phil Collins’ remarkable soundtrack, one of my favorites of any Disney film. Though The Lion King had a couple songs performed by background singers, Tarzan stepped out of the box in having most of the music not sung by the characters. Phil Collins provides the vocals for the brisk and memorable montages, such as “Two Worlds,” “Son of Man,” and “Strangers Like Me.” The tender lullaby “You’ll Be in My Heart” won the Oscar for Best Original Song, and I was once temporarily obsessed with the percussion-filled “Trashin’ the Camp.” As kids, my cousin and I would play it over and over and over, just jamming and rewinding with glee.

Tarzan relies heavily on montages, but they are among its finest moments, allowing for much humor, heart, and character development in a short time. Unlike Atlantis: The Lost Empire, the language barrier is not simply written away but gradually lowered over time, and the believable romance between Jane and Tarzan is handled with particular skill and beauty. I know that Burroughs’ book is substantially different, but this adaptation carries all the emotion and grandeur of Disney’s best, including a bittersweet happy ending.

Best line: (Tantor, finally standing up to Terk) “That’s it! I’ve had it with you and your emotional constipation! Tarzan needs us, and we’re gonna help him! You got that? Now pipe down, and hang on tight! We’ve got a boat to catch.”

  
Rank: 59 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

279 Followers and Counting