Tag Archives: Family

#65: Fantasia (1940)

19 Wednesday Nov 2014

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The power of classical music is known,
And here now Walt Disney has made it his own
With images striking in color and tone.
 
The instruments hum to Bach’s ominous beat,
And fishes and flowers and fairies petite
All dance to Tchaikovsky’s own Nutcracker Suite.
 
Poor Mickey, apprentice to wizard Yen Sid,
Enlivens a broom that he cannot forbid,
And only his mage can undo what he did.
 
Stravinsky is next, as the earth is beginning,
And life conceives dinosaurs, fighting and grinning,
But even T. Rexes do not end up winning.
 
Then Beethoven yields us a pastoral spy
At amorous centaurs and cute pegasi
And thunderous parties that never run dry.
 
The animals prance through a fanciful day
Of hippos and elephants, who soon fall prey
To covetous gators, who love their buffet.
 
At last, evil Chernabog reigns o’er the night
And every last hellion, phantom, and fright,
Until they are banished by heavenly light.
__________________
 

If any animated film deserves a 10 for artistry, it’s Walt Disney’s masterpiece Fantasia. Possibly the most well-known experimental film of all time, Disney’s efforts to immortalize classical treasures in an animated framework were not particularly successful with audiences in 1940, but the intervening decades have proven its unique combination of potent music and images.

I’ll be honest: it’s an excellent film to fall asleep to, but also equally excellent to scrutinize. Touching on a wide range of subjects, it presents a compendious view of mythology, popular “science,” and the struggle of good versus evil. Even at its cutest and most child-centered, Fantasia oozes imaginative virtuosity, such as the giddy symbolism of Ponchielli’s Dance of the Hours.

On the one hand, most of the vignettes tell a core story that sticks in one’s mind, particularly those who viewed it as a child: the romance and storm of The Pastoral Symphony, the traumatic dinosaur fight of The Rite of Spring, and especially Mickey’s most memorable escapade in The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. On the other hand, some more than others indulge in dancing colors and beautiful shenanigans that don’t really follow a linear narrative. (The occasionally psychedelic images led to the film’s newfound popularity in the drugged-up ‘60s.) I’m not always fond of “art for art’s sake,” but the ways in which Disney complemented the music with his fluid and captivating animation are nothing short of genius.

Though some early music critics objected to Disney’s additions to their favorite opuses, most of the pieces of music used owe much of their iconic status to the images Disney so expertly provided. Disney had wanted to continue Fantasia in subsequent years with further sequences set to various other works, and it’s a shame that the film’s initial unprofitability left that plan unfeasible (though several reissues over the years have propelled it to both considerable fame and revenue). I would have liked to have seen his take on Sibelius’s Finlandia, Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons, Holst’s The Planets, or Strauss’s Also sprach Zarathustra (before Stanley Kubrick got his hands on it for 2001: A Space Odyssey).

There are a few images some parents might balk at, such as the Stegosaurus death, the centaur women’s nudity, and the frighteningly demonic Night on Bald Mountain, but nothing detracts from the overall majesty of Disney’s work. The final piece is probably the most effective, particularly the contrast between Bald Mountain and Ave Maria and the quiet but implacable dominance of the latter over the former. It may not be his most entertaining, but Fantasia is Disney at his most poetic.

 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

251 Followers and Counting

#66: Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)

18 Tuesday Nov 2014

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(Best sung to “I’ve Got a Golden Ticket”)
 
Charlie has little reason to
Hope for a bit of luck anew,
But then golden tickets, just a few,
Make their abrupt debut.
 
He dreams of a golden ticket,
Even as four other dreams come true.
 
Suddenly golden hopes arise;
Charlie receives a chance to see
Old Willy Wonka’s big surprise,
His chocolate factory.
 
Along with four other winners,
Charlie is shown wonders one can chew.
 
As they are led from room to room,
Four rotten brats near meet their doom,
And Charlie is the last one.
Even though Wonka tries him still,
Charlie’s sweet heart imparts goodwill,
And suddenly, the testing is done.
He finds that he’s won!
 
Though all the other children fell,
Charlie has proven he is right
For Wonka’s secrets him to tell,
To everyone’s delight.
 
Because of that golden ticket,
Charlie is fulfilled and flying high,
And Willy Wonka’s found the apple of his eye.
_____________
 

My earlier review of Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory essentially stated that Burton gets nearly everything right, except Willy Wonka; the original Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory gets nearly everything right, including Willy Wonka. The classic children’s musical doesn’t have the visuals or the polished look of Burton’s remake, but it has the same wonky, daftly absurd combination of humor and heart that made Roald Dahl’s book such a success.

Though I actually prefer now Freddie Highmore’s Charlie, Peter Ostrum is still admirable as the lone good apple of the bunch, and his relationship with Jack Albertson’s Grandpa Joe is more familial and evident than in the remake, possibly due to the absence of Mr. Bucket. All of the children are appropriately detestable in different ways, with Julie Dawn Cole as Veruca Salt being the most insufferable, and their comeuppances are all the more satisfying for their impudence. Of course, the star of the picture (aside from Charlie) is Willy Wonka himself, and Gene Wilder is perfect as the titular candy maker, even though Dahl had preferred Spike Milligan for the role. Whereas Johnny Depp’s Wonka displayed peculiarities more disturbing than endearing, Wilder spouts classical quotations and jumps between languages effortlessly, playing the candy man as eccentric and only occasionally trending toward insane. Granted, that boat ride is downright creepy (a chicken’s head being cut off? really?), but the rest of Wonka’s antics have a fun weirdness which, as Charlie says, is not necessarily bad. Wilder captures that ideal gray area between sanity and insanity that a character like Willy Wonka requires (and that Johnny Depp couldn’t quite attain), though I would have liked some indication that the bratty kids were indeed all right, as the book and remake did.

Roald Dahl himself despised the film’s changes to his book, and though I agree that the “fizzy lifting drinks” part was unnecessary and detracted from Charlie’s natural goodness, I think that Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory still does his work justice (of course, purely from a reader’s standpoint). Various annoying habits are properly skewered, such as gum-chewing, gluttony, and television addictions, while Charlie’s decency is allowed to shine and be rewarded. The sheer imagination of Dahl’s book is brought to colorful life in the chocolate room sequence; who wouldn’t want to cavort through those edible fields? Though Dahl’s own songs from the book are omitted (and later utilized in Burton’s remake), Willy Wonka’s Oscar-nominated soundtrack is full of memorable ditties that live on from childhood, reaching high points with “I’ve Got a Golden Ticket” and “I Want It Now.”

Other films may have appealed to Dahl’s odd sensibilities more, such as Matilda, James and the Giant Peach, The Fantastic Mr. Fox, or Burton’s take on the Chocolate Factory, but none are quite as delectably appealing as this first Dahl film adaptation. Willy Wonka has only grown in popularity over the years, becoming somewhat of a cult film, and continues to be a scrumdiddlyumptious delight for young and old.

Best line: (Mr. Salt, boarding the Wonkatania) “Ladies first, and that means Veruca.”   (Grandpa Joe, to Charlie) “If she’s a lady, I’m a Vermicious Knid.”

 
Rank: 56 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

249 Followers and Counting

#67: Paulie (1998)

17 Monday Nov 2014

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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

#68: Home Alone (1990)

16 Sunday Nov 2014

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The McCallister household is full
Of family; no moment is dull.
It’s Christmas; they’re stressed,
And young Kevin’s a pest
And makes one and all miserable.
 
He wishes they’d all go away,
And when they wake up the next day,
They rush to vacation
And, leaving the nation,
Find Kevin just happened to stay.
 
As Mom is consumed with concern
And does all she can to return,
Her son, home alone,
With no parents or phone,
Is thrilled with this fortunate turn.
 
While Kevin has fun and makes merry,
Two cat burglars named Marv and Harry
Are eyeing with guile
His rich domicile,
But Kevin is gleefully wary.
 
Right after the boy comes to terms
With a man who benignly confirms
The importance of kin,
Kevin leaves to begin
Preparing for two burglar worms.
 
With booby traps set everywhere,
He catches the pair unaware.
The bumbling knaves
And the vengeance each craves
Are no match for his every snare.
 
The McCallister home is defended.
And family rapport is commended.
Our kid’s reunited
With family delighted,
Though his fight with crooks isn’t ended.
________________
 

Home Alone was one of the most successful live-action comedies ever made, topping the box office for twelve weeks and making its combination of charm and torture a holiday staple. Written by John Hughes and directed by Mrs. Doubtfire’s Chris Columbus, the now-classic Christmas movie made young Macaulay Culkin a household name and (hopefully) prevented countless parents from neglecting to bring along their children on vacation.

The film doesn’t start off like the kind of film I would enjoy. Kevin and his relatives are realistically bratty, with little reason to like any of them. Once he is actually left alone, the plot improves dramatically. What kid hasn’t wanted the whole house to themselves and the freedom to do what they want when they want how they want? Yet Kevin turns out to be surprisingly responsible, in contrast to his inattentive mother (and father), who spends the rest of the film mostly making up for her lapse in judgment by displaying sympathetic, if pointless, worry for her abandoned child. Luckily, though, the blame isn’t all on her: Kevin is by no means an angel and his admittance of such allows him some proper remorse. His conversation with Old Man Marley (Roberts Blossom) in the church perfectly addresses both of their familial conflicts. (Incidentally, the scene begins with my VC’s favorite Christmas song, “O Holy Night,” and ends with mine, “Carol of the Bells.”)

Of course, much of the film’s credit should go to Daniel Stern and Joe Pesci as Marv and Harry, the two bumbling thieves who deserve a place amongst memorable comedic odd couples. Their persistence is matched only by their stupidity in walking into trap after trap set by the devious boy of the house. Pesci’s constant muttering of “Razzin, frazzin…” is hilarious (yes, he amuses me), while the spider scene proves Stern as one of the great male screamers of our time. Plus, for added comedy, Hughes brought along John Candy from Planes, Trains, and Automobiles for a small but humorous role as a kindhearted polka bum.

John Williams’ carol-infused score is also outstanding, and his own little noel, “Somewhere in My Memory,” deserves a spot in my End Credits Song Hall of Fame. Only the sweet closing scenes are actually set on Christmas, but the whole film illustrates the Christmas season, with films like It’s a Wonderful Life (in French!) and Miracle on 34th Street included for good measure. Also, it thankfully doesn’t shy away from the sacred aspects of Christmas, including a crèche scene, a church, and themes of forgiveness. All in all, Macaulay Culkin’s first major role was his best, yet another Christmas film that my family revisits year after year.

Best line: (Kate McCallister/Mom) “Tell me, have you ever gone on vacation and left your child home?”
(Polka king Gus, after a pause) “No, no. But I did leave one at a funeral parlor once. Yeah, it was—was terrible too. I was all distraught and everything, you know, the wife and I, and we left the little tyke there in the funeral parlor all day. All day. You know, we went back at night, when you know, we came to our senses, and there he was, apparently he was there alone all day with the corpse. Yeah, he was okay, you know, after six, seven weeks he came around and started talking again… But he’s okay. You know, they get over it; kids are resilient like that.”
(Kate) “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”
 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

247 Followers and Counting

#69: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)

15 Saturday Nov 2014

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(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

#71: Jumanji (1995)

13 Thursday Nov 2014

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Son of a shoe mogul, young Alan Parrish
Finds a board game
With the power to maim,
Jumanji its name.
Sucked into jungles with no one to cherish,
He disappears
And meets his worst fears
For twenty-six years.
 
Peter and Judy, two modern-day youths,
Start playing as well,
And the game raises hell
They cannot dispel.
Alan is freed and must face the hard truths:
His family did fade;
The town has decayed,
But the game must be played.
 
Finding his old playmate Sarah, they try
To finish the game,
And dangers untame
Distract from their aim.
Perils abound, which they cannot defy,
Hunters, stampedes,
And overgrown weeds,
But no one concedes.
 
Nearing the end, Alan rolls the last dice.
He wins as a man,
And according to plan,
All is as it began.
Jumanji must go, that unbearable vice,
But Alan’s set right,
And his future is bright,
Yet the game’s not done quite.
_________________
 

Jumanji was one of my favorite family films while growing up. Based on Chris Van Allsburg’s picture book with a much simpler story, it succeeds in summoning the same magic that highlights Van Allsburg’s books, namely the “what if” quality of fantasy. What if a giant locomotive stops in the middle of the street outside one’s door on Christmas Eve? What if one’s house were transported into outer space? What if monkeys and stampedes were to suddenly appear in one’s home? Yet Jumanji also boasts an entertaining story to accompany the images, with much more enjoyable characters than its science fiction follow-up Zathura.

Of course, in light of his recent death, all Robin Williams films now hold a touch of sadness, but Jumanji allowed him a (mostly) serious role that was still accessible to the child audience. Though the idea of being sucked into a board game has a silly quality that is touched on, Williams depicts the realistic loss and loneliness which someone in that position would necessarily endure. Bonnie Hunt is also endearing as his traumatized friend Sarah, while a young Kirsten Dunst and Bradley Pierce play Judy and Peter, the only players from the original book. Just as Hans Conried voiced both Mr. Darling and Captain Hook in Disney’s Peter Pan, Jonathan Hyde plays both Alan’s father and his confrontational hunter Van Pelt, with a much more obvious parental parallel between the two. David Alan Grier is also hilarious as Officer Carl, whose reactions to the ever-increasing damage to his car are priceless.

The computer-generated imagery was still cutting-edge for 1995 but sadly hasn’t completely aged well. Though the jungle mayhem is still impressive and entertaining, it’s all clearly effects, particularly the monkeys and the giant spider puppets. Even so, children are more forgiving of such things; as a kid and adult, I still enjoyed every minute of this film (except that spider part—ugghhh).

Offering excitement, humor, and a bearded Robin Williams for all ages, Jumanji is a rollicking good time. As the chaos piles up, so does the danger, as well as the fun for those of us not experiencing it. And aside from the endorsement of child/parent harmony, the film also teaches an important moral: never play with strange items found buried and locked in an ancient chest. Lesson learned.

Best line: (gun store owner, when the pith-helmeted Van Pelt is eagerly purchasing a replacement weapon) “You’re not a postal worker, are you?”

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

245 Followers and Counting

#74: A Christmas Story (1983)

10 Monday Nov 2014

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

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

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

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

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

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

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

243 Followers and Counting

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

05 Wednesday Nov 2014

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

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

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

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

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

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

a well-choreographed, rap-inflected number:

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

a slow, emotional solo for Vanessa Hudgens:

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

a show-stopping hit midway through:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Best lines: Refer to best songs above

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

240 Followers and Counting

 

#80: Miracle on 34th Street (1947)

04 Tuesday Nov 2014

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At Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade,
Their Santa impostor is drunk,
And Miss Doris Walker must see that he’s played,
Although she thinks Santa is bunk.
 
When kindly Kris Kringle is begged to fill in,
He does such a wonderful job,
He’s made the store Santa, the best there has been,
And garners a juvenile mob.
 
He has the consumers’ best interest at heart,
An idea so radically new
That Macy’s and Gimbel’s incredibly start
A goodwill campaign overdue.
 
Miss Walker’s young daughter named Susan is told
By Mother to be realistic,
But Kris is so Santa-ish, jolly and old,
That she cannot stay pessimistic.
 
Yet Kris makes an enemy with enough clout
To claim an annoyed accusation,
Which puts Kris’s sanity quickly in doubt
Right after a brief altercation.
 
When Doris’s lawyer friend Fred defends Kris,
A court battle breaks out and quick,
And Fred Gailey’s planning to somehow prove this:
That Kris is the famous Saint Nick.
 
Though Doris is frustrated by Fred’s endeavor,
Both Susan and she still concede.
Their trust leads to proof, unexpected and clever,
By which Kris is upheld and freed.
 
His gifts warm the hearts of his numerous friends
After he is released Christmas Eve.
Fred, Doris, and Susan see all he intends
And really can’t help but believe.
____________________
 

One of the quintessential Christmas movies, Miracle on 34th Street is as pure and sentimental as holiday entertainment can get without becoming saccharine. Edmund Gwenn won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his portrayal of arguably the best on-screen Santa Claus, genial and honest, accommodating but willing to confront vice in the name of virtue. When younger, I was always told that the Santa at the end of Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was the real Santa (as opposed to all his impersonating helpers out there in the malls and department stores and street corners), and this film cemented that belief.

Maureen O’Hara is both likable and frustratingly pragmatic as divorced mother Doris, whose growing relationship with the idealistic lawyer Fred Gailey (John Payne) is a cogent endorsement of the “lovely intangibles” that make life enjoyable. A young Natalie Wood gives a precocious performance as doubting Susan, who doesn’t know what to believe as the adults pull her in different intellectual directions.

Though there are some instances of Golden-Age-of-Hollywood overacting, its Oscar-winning screenplay succeeds at balancing humor, schmaltz, and intelligence. The courtroom scenes are particularly well-formulated, with an implausible claim being “proven” in a surprisingly persuasive way. Though we never see Kris Kringle in full Santa mode, delivering toys and such, he embodies and disseminates the goodwill, generosity, and “faith” of the secular side of Christmas. No remake can compare with the magic of the 1947 original (non-colorized, please).

Interestingly, despite its reputation as a holiday classic, the film was not advertised as a Christmas movie. Its trailers simply featured actors bestowing vague praise on some inspiring story called Miracle on 34th Street, and it was actually released in the United States in May. Even with its spring release, the film was recognized as a Christmas delight, one of those enduring bits of Americana that can be watched year after year.

Best line: (Fred) “Look, Doris, someday you’re going to find out that your way of facing this realistic world just doesn’t work. And when you do, don’t overlook those lovely intangibles. You’ll discover they’re the only things that are worthwhile.”
 
VC’s best line: (Mr. Shellhammer, on the phone with Doris) “Yes. Just a moment.  Mrs. Shellhammer wants to talk to you.  I made the martinis triple strength, and she feels wonderful!  Here, my pet.”
(Mrs. Shellhammer, on the couch and snockered, holding the phone upside down) “Thank you. Hello?  Hello?”
(Mr. Shellhammer, switching phone around but still upside down) “No, no, no, no. No, dear.”
(Mrs. Shellhammer, laughing) “Thank you, darling. [Loudly]  Hello?”
(Mr. Shellhammer, turning phone right-side up) “No, no, no, dear. There.”
(Mrs. Shellhammer) “Oh, darling. How silly of me. [Very loudly] Helloooo? [Laughs] Why, we’d love to have Santa Claus come and stay with us. Mm-hmm. I think it would be simp-ly charming!”
 
Rank: 54 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

239 Followers and Counting

 

#82: Aladdin (1992)

02 Sunday Nov 2014

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(Best sung to “Arabian Nights”)
 
In a kingdom long past, in the great Agrabah,
The vizier has a villainous plan.
In the rarest of caves,
There’s a lamp that he craves,
But Jafar first requires a young man.
 
This Aladdin is poor, but he meets the princess;
Jasmine’s drawn to his freedom and charm.
He is tricked by Jafar
To dare where wonders are,
And one slip nearly brings him to harm.
 
Though trapped in the cave,
The agreeable tramp
Obtains wishes three
From a joking Genie
When he brushes his lamp.
 
Becoming a prince,
Al deceives everyone.
He wins Jasmine’s heart
And reveals Jafar’s art
Of deception he’s spun.
 
When Jafar gets the lamp
And indulges his greed,
He is tricked into jail,
Al and Jasmine prevail,
And the Genie is freed.
_______________
 

Created during the upswing of Disney’s animation Renaissance, Aladdin continued the high quality of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. For a while, I considered it rather overrated, but recent viewings have proven that it is indeed a diamond in Disney’s collection. Much of the film’s success goes to the late, great Robin Williams as the frenetic Genie. For my generation, Aladdin was the first introduction to Williams’s delirious brand of humor, so fast-paced and jammed with impressions, puns, and comedic asides that re-watches are a must. The animation complements his frenzied personality, allowing the character to transform and dart around with abandon. His “all-powerful” status also allows for countless anachronisms, including Middle Eastern cliché revisions (“Wake up and smell the hummus”) and references to The Little Mermaid and Pinocchio. (Interestingly, some locations that Aladdin and Jasmine visit during “A Whole New World” foreshadowed upcoming Disney releases, like Hercules and Mulan.)

Of course, the soundtrack was also very well-received, earning Aladdin two Oscars for Best Score and Best Song for ”A Whole New World,” one of Disney’s best romantic duets. The Genie’s frenzied appeal highlights “A Friend Like Me” and “Prince Ali,” and “Arabian Nights” lived on as the theme song of the Aladdin TV series. While not my favorite of the Disney soundtracks, it is nevertheless fun and engaging.

Though none of the characters are as colorful as Genie, most are well-drawn and complex. As a male protagonist, Aladdin himself changes up Disney’s usual princess model, and Jasmine is a worthy addition to the roster of strong princesses. Sounding not unlike Vincent Price, Jonathan Freeman’s Jafar is also a formidable villain, able to make the word “boo boo” into something sinister. Aladdin also boasts one of the greatest number of individual sidekicks that I’ve counted: besides Genie, there’s Abu and the magic carpet for Aladdin, Raja the tiger for Jasmine, and Iago (a priceless Gilbert Gottfried) for Jafar.

Between the music, character dynamics, and brisk comedy, Aladdin deserves its reputation as one of Disney’s great successes; even this year, it spawned a Broadway musical. Oh, that Disney could return to these glory days!

Best line: (Genie, when first awakened) “Oy! Ten thousand years will give you such a crick in the neck!”

 
Rank: 54 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

237 Followers and Counting