Tag Archives: Romance

The Philadelphia Story (1940)

12 Sunday Apr 2015

Posted by in Movies, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, ,

 
 
Two years since the big divorce,
And Tracy Lord has no remorse.
The wealthy heiress soon will wed,
And tabloids, wanting to be read,
Will stop at nothing to inveigle
For what news they can finagle.
 
Macaulay Connor’s sent by Spy
To get the story none can buy,
Accompanied by pressured Dex,
Miss Lord’s both sore and spiteful ex.
To Lord’s dismay, she lets them stay,
Despite her coming wedding day.
 
Their presence tends to complicate
And spark unusual debate,
Which makes the vain Miss Tracy Lord,
That goddess always so adored,
To wonder of her selfish life
And who she’ll choose to call her wife.
______________________
 

The Philadelphia Story is just one of the many old black-and-white films lauded by the AFI, which I’ve only begun to check out. It made #51 on their original top 100 list, and the 2007 update raised it to #44, since it’s supposedly such a classic. It’s said to be the best example of the comedy of remarriage, a genre popular at the time; if that’s true, I have little hope for any others. As much as I hate to dissent from the critical consensus, I was not impressed and consider this an example of a film undeserving of its classic status.

With such famous actors involved, I had expected more. I love Jimmy Stewart, who earned a Best Actor Oscar for his role as writer Macaulay “Mike” Connor. I like Katharine Hepburn too. I have no feelings whatsoever about Cary Grant. Yet I did not enjoy this film, because of that lynchpin of any good film: the script. While the critically lauded, Oscar-winning screenplay was clever at times and had some humor, mainly from Stewart, such as his encounter with a linguistically old-fashioned librarian, the script was, shall I say, too flowery. Many call it elegant; I call it pretentious. The work of famed dialogue writers like Aaron Sorkin and Nora Ephron may be idealized beyond the typical limitations of ordinary speech, but as I was watching The Philadelphia Story, my VC and I kept thinking, “No one talks like this!” I don’t even think wealthy people in 1940 spoke like this. Flowery language can be cheesily poetic, such as in It’s a Wonderful Life when George Bailey says he’ll give Mary the moon: “Well, then you can swallow it, and it’ll all dissolve, see… and the moonbeams would shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the ends of your hair…. Am I talking too much?” When lines like that make up the bulk of a film, though, the answer to that question is a resounding “Yes!” A protracted and rather awkward exchange between Stewart and Hepburn in a night garden prompted my VC to call it one of the worst romantic scenes she’d ever seen. I wouldn’t go that far, but she disliked the film more than I.

On top of the dialogue issue, I didn’t care for any of the characters, particularly Hepburn’s impudent Tracy Lord. As various people pile on the accusations of her considering herself a “goddess,” I found it hard to believe that no one had called her that before and was unsure why it would suddenly bother her now. I didn’t really feel sorry for this controlling bride-to-be, with her “poor little rich girl” mentality. Anticipating the popularity of reality shows and inside looks at the rich and famous, Stewart muses, “The prettiest sight in this fine pretty world is the privileged class enjoying its privileges.” I, for one, can think of much more entertaining sights.

Best line: (Margaret Lord) “The course of true love…”   (Macaulay Connor) “…gathers no moss.”

 
Rank: Dishonorable Mention
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

292 Followers and Counting

The Wind Rises (2013)

29 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

 
 
Before the World War that sent Zeros to soar,
A youngster named Jiro had bright dreams galore.
Airplane engineer was his chosen career,
A striving for beauty, naïve and sincere.
He built and he planned and foresaw something grand
To rise on the wind over enemy land.
 
While deep in his quest for the plane he loved best,
His heart found a partner, and both were soon blessed.
But love has a way of still making us pay,
For sadly short-lived is our happiest day.
He felt the wind rise to the loftiest skies,
Where high-minded dreams tend to meet their demise.
________________
 

Hailed as Hayao Miyazaki’s swan song before his retirement, The Wind Rises is a work of heartfelt beauty worthy of being the celebrated director’s final film (though he had supposedly retired after Princess Mononoke too). It is also an outlier among his films for two reasons: its realism and its poignancy. Looking back, few films directed by Miyazaki are based entirely in the real world, set instead within dystopian jungles, demon-infested landscapes, or steampunk fantasy lands. Some come close to reality, like Kiki’s Delivery Service, My Neighbor Totoro, or Porco Rosso, but even they carry obvious fantasy elements. Only his first film, the James Bond-ish The Castle of Cagliostro, could have actually happened (if you consider James Bond realistic), but not until his last film did he settle upon real people and real events.

Based on the life of avionic engineer and creator of the Japanese Zero Jiro Horikoshi, The Wind Rises (which could have been called Jiro Dreams of Airplanes) details his ambition of creating marvelous flying machines and bringing Japan up to speed with the likes of Italy, Germany, and the U.S.  Honestly, I know nothing about the real Jiro Horikoshi or the extent of the film’s historical accuracy, but, even if it weren’t a fictionalized biopic, it would still be one of Studio Ghibli’s most beautiful films. Certain scenes recall notable realistic scenes in past Ghibli movies. A sequence depicting the Great Kantō Earthquake of 1923 recalls the urban devastation of Grave of the Fireflies, while Miyazaki’s obvious fascination with flight takes center-stage in a story focused on building planes, a process only briefly portrayed in Porco Rosso. Of course, Miyazaki’s fantastical fingerprints are still evident in Jiro’s dream sequences, in which an Italian engineer named Caproni acts as his Chef Gusteau, offering inspiration and advice while they stroll along aircraft wings. Ghibli’s hand-drawn animation has always been impressive, but not since Howl’s Moving Castle have the artistry and attention to detail been so wondrous, from plane-level views of billowy clouds to the fading vapors of Jiro’s chain-smoking habit to the varying shadows cast by Jiro’s glasses on his own face.

The film’s realism is notable in itself, but it would have made it simply an interesting oddity, rather than the bittersweet drama it is. What sets The Wind Rises apart from its Miyazaki brethren is its heart. As much as I enjoy Miyazaki’s films, none of them have ever touched me on an emotional level; there’s visual beauty to spare, but they tend to appeal more to the eyes and the imagination rather than the heart. This latest film is the exception. The first half is entertaining enough on its own, but the film becomes something more special upon the arrival of Nohoko, one of Ghibli’s loveliest female characters to match its loveliest romance.

Consider their early courtship: like Romeo and Juliet, Nohoko stands on a balcony while Jiro deploys paper airplanes to her rather than poetry (though there’s poetry too). As corny as it sounds, it’s remarkably sweet, as is their increasing devotion to each other, despite Nohoko’s tuberculosis. Miyazaki plumbs unusual depths of emotion as the couple is brought together repeatedly by the wind until they become inseparable, the one pursuing a dream and the other wasting away in support of it. Though it does pay tribute to the most memorable scene from Porco Rosso involving the fate of fallen pilots, the ambiguous ending misses an opportunity to become a full-on tearjerker in favor of a pseudo-inspiring sendoff, which still manages to be rather powerful.

I heard an interview with Gary Rydstrom (director of the excellent English dub), which summed up the film’s dually signified message perfectly: the danger of daring to pursue a passion doomed to end badly. Jiro knows his avionic masterpieces will inevitably be used for destruction in the approaching war, just as he knows his time with Nohoko is limited. It’s the timeless struggle of love; though it will surely end, dreams fulfilled and time well spent manage to be worth it in some ways, despite regret. Caproni mentions that an artist has only ten good creative years allotted to him, but Hayao Miyazaki’s career is clearly an exception. Though Disney’s Frozen juggernaut was understandably the Oscar-winning favorite for Best Animated Feature that year, The Wind Rises would have won my vote.

Best line: (Caproni) “Airplanes are beautiful, cursed dreams, waiting for the sky to swallow them up.”

 
Rank: List-Worthy
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

288 Followers and Counting

The Count of Monte Cristo (2002)

19 Thursday Mar 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, ,

When Edmond Dantes dares to run
To Elba, where Napoleon
Was exiled, in hopes to save
His ailing captain from the grave,
The captive emperor commands
He take a message to the hands
Of some old friend, and in his debt,
The sailor takes it with regret.
 
When Dantes lands back in Marseilles,
He’s lauded, and his fiancée
Mercedes welcomes him with joy,
Which jealousy will soon destroy.
His friend Mondego goes too far
With envious first mate Danglars,
To have Dantes arrested for
The treason of the note he bore.
 
Before the matter comes to court,
A magistrate named Villefort,
Who might have offered him relief,
Entombs him in the Chateau D’If.
Through painful years, he sits and waits,
Endures and loses faith and hates.
When near the ending of his rope,
A fellow prisoner gives hope.
 
This priest assists him, through despair,
To dig for freedom and prepare.
They learn and burrow gradually,
And when Dantes at last is free,
He plots his vengeance, soon released,
With treasure from the caring priest.
A wealthy count, a different man,
He reaps revenge with righteous plan.
As Edmond nears his final goal,
Perhaps true love can save his soul.
_______________
 

Alexander Dumas is among the most famous of French novelists, but his memory seems often based on mere name recognition. Plenty of people have heard of The Three Musketeers, but far fewer actually know its plot. Such was the case with me and The Count of Monte Cristo, a classic tale of revenge that has resulted in countless adaptations (such as ABC’s current series Revenge), as well as a scrumptious sandwich. Though I had read the book in abridged form as a kid, I had little interest in this 2002 film version when it was released, but I recently sought it out after discovering the unproduced musical version by Frank Wildhorn (Jekyll and Hyde). I’m glad I did, for it turned out to be a clean, exciting, and undeniably entertaining swashbuckler that even manages to improve on the source material.

The evenly talented cast is composed of actors more recognizable from their other roles than from their names. Jim Caviezel as Edmond Dantes also played Jesus in The Passion of the Christ, and his suffering in the Chateau D’If mirrors that film, though Dantes hardly turns the other cheek. Guy Pearce (The King’s Speech, Iron Man 3) is the most famous of the cast and is perfectly odious as his backstabbing “friend” Mondego. Dantes’ faithful love Mercedes is played with romantic earnestness by Dagmara Dominczyk (Marguerite in The Five People You Meet in Heaven), and Richard Harris (Camelot, two Harry Potter films) brings wisdom and unshaken religiosity as Abbe Faria, Dantes’ fellow prisoner and mentor. Also notable are a young Henry Cavill as Mercedes’ son Albert, long before the fame of Man of Steel, and James Frain (known to me as the sleepy college student in Shadowlands) as Villefort, proving that he and Pierce excel at portraying despicable aristocrats.

Despite the large cast, the main point of the tale is very simple: revenge. While The Count of Monte Cristo could be considered the original revenge fantasy, it surpasses imitators like Kill Bill or Darkman by not reveling too much in the morally sticky subject of vengeance but placing it in a religious context. Certainly everyone enjoys watching villains receive their just desserts, but when one becomes an instrument of revenge, obsession and resignation to sin threaten. While there’s an entertaining “gotcha” factor to his enemies’ comeuppance, there are also friends urging Dantes to move past his hatred. It’s a sensitive balance that ultimately sides with the godly faith of Abbe Faria and is not lessened at all by its religiosity. (The only really morally problematic act of vengeance involves the Chateau D’If’s sadistic jailer [Michael Wincott of Hitchcock and Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves in yet another creepy role], but is more or less understandable considering its timing.)

The production itself sometimes has the look of a BBC television production, but with a much higher budget, seen in the ornate set design and the Count’s spectacular entrance into Parisian society. (Hint: There’s a hot air balloon!) The sword fights are riveting, the dialogue is clever, and the final confrontation between Dantes and Mondego is so much better than in the book, which ends with a mere suicide and a less happy ending for some characters. It may depart from the novel, but I prefer this version.

Having seen this film, I’m even more convinced that it would make a great musical. There have been productions in Germany and South Korea, and at BYU just two months ago (its English-language premiere), but I think it ought to be on Broadway. Listen to these examples: “I Will Be There,” a love duet between Dantes and Mercedes,

and “Hell to Your Doorstep,” a rage-fueled tirade as Dantes plans his revenge.

Doesn’t anyone else think this musical deserves more attention than it’s gotten? Then again, so does this film.

Best line: (Abbe Faria) “Here is your final lesson: Do not commit the crime for which you now serve the sentence. God said, ‘Vengeance is mine.’”   (Dantes) “I don’t believe in God.”   (Abbe Faria) “It doesn’t matter. He believes in you.”

 
Rank: List-Worthy
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

286 Followers and Counting

#3: Forrest Gump (1994)

10 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

, , , ,

His name is Forrest, Forrest Gump,
And he has quite a tale to tell,
A decade-spanning epic life
That no one else could tell as well.
 
Although he never has been smart,
His mother told him from his youth
That he could still do anything,
Which he took as God’s honest truth.
 
He didn’t have too many friends,
Just lovely Jenny by his side.
He loved her dearly from the start,
But college kept her occupied.
 
Their paths diverged as Forrest Gump
Enlisted in the Army corps
And told his girl he soon would go
To Vietnam to fight a war.
 
His heroism rescued lives,
Including his Lieutenant Dan.
As Forrest met with Ping-Pong fame,
His friend was left as half a man.
 
When Army life was done with him,
Gump bought himself a shrimping boat
To celebrate a fallen friend
Whose life to shrimp he would devote.
 
Assisted by Lieutenant Dan,
He built himself a shrimp empire,
But a loss returned him home
To Alabama to retire.
 
Beloved Jenny’s wayward path
Of drugs, abuse, and love thought free
At last brings her to Forrest’s house
To milk his hospitality.
 
A lengthy run across the land
Brings fame to Forrest once again,
But what more strongly speeds his step
Is Jenny’s now inviting pen.
 
Though soon he loses one he loves,
He gains another suddenly,
For Forrest Gump is talented
At drifting to his destiny.
________________
 

While not the first, Robert Zemeckis’s Forrest Gump is the greatest example of the “meet-‘em-and-move-on” film, following one character throughout his life as he touches and is touched by countless others, often in ways he doesn’t even comprehend. In this case, it’s set against the backdrop of late 20th-century America, and even if Forrest doesn’t fathom the influence of his adventures, we the audience do, laughing, crying, and remembering along the way.

Tom Hanks most definitely deserved his Best Actor Academy Award for his simple yet profound portrayal of Forrest, Forrest Gump. Rather than being some caricature of the mentally handicapped, his folksy candor creates a memorable paragon of innocent observation. His unbiased impressions of some painfully turbulent years in US history act as a neutral lens through which we can view events like the Vietnam War, the Watergate scandal, and the hippie movement without any potentially alienating political opinions. They just were, and Forrest was there. It’s a simple idea, but much care and effort were made in pulling it off successfully. The Oscar-winning effects team placed Forrest into archive footage, allowing him to seamlessly interact with Presidents and celebrities. Yet through all of his adventures, he remains the same lovable mama’s boy, harboring (as the writer Eric Roth has stated) an unshakeable faith in only three things: God, his wise mother (Sally Field), and his sweetheart Jenny (Robin Wright). It’s funny, though, that Field plays Hanks’s mother here when she played his love interest in Punchline just six years earlier.

Jenny chooses the opposite approach of Forrest’s clean-cut journey through the decades. Whereas his homespun values preserve Forrest unsullied for the most part, in the world but not of the world, Jenny embraces the sex, drugs, and destructive lifestyle that captured so many in the 1960s, all the while keeping her would-be suitor at a distance. Her “spoiled goods” mentality is frustrating because of her own foolish choices, and tragic because of Forrest’s unrequited love for her, at least until the end. Forrest Gump is a prime example of how an opinion can make a 360 over time; my VC disliked the film’s ending at first, mainly due to how Jenny used Forrest’s affection for her to sneak a one-night stand and then did not contact him again until she was dying. Over time, she’s come to love the film as much as I do and to recognize more authenticity in Jenny’s deathbed declaration of love. As disheartening as their degrading lifestyles became, the eventual turnaround for Jenny and for Lieutenant Dan (a fantastic Gary Sinise) is what provides the satisfying, tear-worthy conclusion that “meet-‘em-and-move-on” films do so well. (By the way, did anyone else notice that Jenny’s abusive boyfriend in Washington, D.C., was named Wesley? Robin Wright must love that name.)

Despite the language and some sexual awakenings for Forrest, the film is a redemptive and unforgettable odyssey in which the good and decent are proven more prosperous than the edgy and bitter. The soundtrack is one of the best, providing pitch-perfect musical accompaniment for every decade Forrest encounters (the Doors are well represented), and the three-year running sequence features a spectacular blend of rocking road anthems and stunning cinematography. The quirky narration is one of my favorite elements, with sentences often being repeated by an actor right after they’ve been spoken. Sometimes narration is an unnecessary distraction, but for “meet-‘em-and-move-on” films, it often strengthens the effect of the story, as with Life of Pi and The Shawshank Redemption. Many people doubtless consider Shawshank a better film, which was overshadowed by the popularity of Tom Hanks’ best role in 1994, but though Shawshank is more mature in tone and subject, and I still love it, Forrest Gump holds a greater variety of incident, special effects, and storytelling and is just more appealing in general. It’s a special film that some may dismiss as glossing over history, but I find more reasons to love it on every viewing. (Did you notice that Forrest’s eyes are closed in every picture he takes? I didn’t till this latest time.)

Best line (a less obvious one):  (Bubba) “Anyway, like I was sayin’, shrimp is the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, sauté it. Dey’s uh, shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There’s pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That- that’s about it.”

 
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

#8: Titanic (1997)

01 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , ,

The RMS Titanic plowed the icy North Atlantic
And made headlines and history when swallowed by the sea.
It served as quite a backdrop for a rendezvous romantic
Between an aimless artist and a fiancée set free.
 
When Rose is brought aboard the ship, she sees her future set,
A world of wealthy well-to-dos and proper parties planned,
But when the lass is rescued from a self-delivered threat,
Jack Dawson introduces her to his own world firsthand.
 
Although her mother and her haughty, cold fiancé Cal
Insist she stay away from Jack and keep to codes and class,
Her heart and hopes have superseded moneyed rationale,
For love is theirs until an iceberg makes a fatal pass.
 
As water floods into the ship, there’s order up on deck,
But when that deck begins to lean, anxiety begins.
With nowhere near enough lifeboats, this monumental wreck
Will claim the lives of most who panic to the violins.
 
The grand Titanic sinks beneath the frigid ocean waves,
And only six are rescued by the lone returning boat.
Though 1,500 fell below to dark and unmarked graves,
A sworn survivor strove to live, not just remain afloat.
_____________________
 

One of the greatest film achievements belongs to James Cameron and his historic Titanic, tied winner of the most Academy Awards, eleven in total. While the film’s prestige seems to have waned since the director’s cheesy “I’m king of the world” speech at the Oscars, it remains a moving romance and an unparalleled spectacle of magnificence brought low.

While it didn’t win any acting Oscars, both Roses were nominated, the lovely Kate Winslet as young Rose and the trauma-wearied Gloria Stuart as elderly Rose. Though not outstanding, the acting is uniformly good, from Kathy Bates as the unsinkable Molly Brown, Billy Zane as Rose’s arrogant husband-to-be Cal Hockley, Bill Paxton as modern-day treasure seeker Brock Lovett, and Bernard Hill and Victor Garber as the ship’s captain and designer, respectively, both overwhelmed with the grief and guilt of helming a deathtrap. Leonardo DiCaprio found his first big budget role here, and though he’s gone on to ever greater fame, it wasn’t until Inception that I saw him as anything but artist/lover Jack Dawson.

It’s a sad fact that, just as The Hunger Games is most entertaining when the blood sport commences, the best part is the massive ship’s epic floundering, both realistically tragic and awesome to behold. The couple’s wandering through the dying vessel allows multiple perspectives, from the gradually slanting upper deck to the water-logged lower levels, the desperate passengers behind locked gates and the former splendor of state rooms being swallowed from below. The Oscar-winning visual effects are indeed wondrous, giving a sense of the astounding size of this vanquished metal beast. Even so, I find it almost humorous how many times Jack and Rose trade each other’s names; from when Rose finds Jack below to her rescue, I counted 48 Jacks and 32 Roses.

In addition to winning Best Picture, Director, Visual Effects, Cinematography, Art Direction, Film Editing, Costume Design, Sound, and Sound Effects Editing, it truly deserved wins for James Horner’s majestic Celtic-infused score and for the song “My Heart Will Go On,” sung by Celine Dion over the end credits (earning a place in my Hall of Fame). The music adds much to the film’s beauty and grandeur and deepens the characters’ emotions. The romance itself is not the very best, so perhaps it was the music that put it over the edge for me. Titanic holds special meaning to me because I probably saw it too young; I cried harder at this film’s finale than at any other movie before or since, to the point that I swore I would never again watch it. While that oath obviously didn’t stick and the film doesn’t touch me quite as deeply, it’s still sublimely sad, with a final scene worthy of a meet-‘em-and-move-on reunion, even if the film doesn’t fit into that mold.

Though not the first film about the Titanic (which was 1912’s Saved from the Titanic, starring an actress who survived the sinking) nor the last (the recent 2012 miniseries Titanic featured quite a good ensemble), James Cameron’s Titanic will forever be the film version for the ages, against which all others are compared. With real underwater footage of the wreck and an epic depiction of the film’s floundering, its flaws are easily overlooked (among them the unnecessary language and nudity and the absence of any heroism among the wealthy passengers; also my VC feels the throwing away of the diamond was pointless). Even so, it deserved every one of its accolades and is still a truly spectacular experience.

Best line: (Jack, after they’re in the water) “I don’t know about you, but I intend to write a strongly worded letter to the White Star Line about all of this.”

VC’s best line: (Jack) “I figure life’s a gift, and I don’t intend on wasting it. You don’t know what hand you’re gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you… to make each day count.”

  
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

#13: Groundhog Day (1993)

25 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , ,

Little interest has Phil Connors in the mirth of Groundhog Day,
But as Pittsburgh’s weatherman, another visit he must pay.
Punxsutawney welcomes him and his producer, lovely Rita,
But, remaining misanthropic, he would not want to repeat a
Day within this backwards town enthralled by shadows and a rat.
Keen on February 3rd, he finds the 2nd back at bat.
 
Every day, he wakens to the same old song and same old day,
And the shortest of the months becomes the lengthiest replay.
Unsure what to do at first, he soon finds things to break and borrow,
Loving, eating, then repeating, living like there’s no tomorrow.
Yet his sanity breaks down from all the pointless repetition,
Since his goal of wooing Rita never once comes to fruition.
 
Further tries to end the cycle get him nowhere, till the day
When he vents his own fatigue and Rita tries to help and stay.
Now his wiser, better goal is to improve himself, no scheme,
Helping with his near-omniscience, rising in the town’s esteem.
By the time he’s nearly perfect for the girl he’s come to love,
Groundhog Day releases Phil with sudden snowfall from above.
_____________________
 

Harold Ramis’s Groundhog Day is an astounding comedy, because it constantly repeats itself and yet is endlessly watchable. While not the first instance of a time loop in fiction (Star Trek: The Next Generation did such an episode the previous year called ”Cause and Effect,” and there have been books and stories that came long before), but it depicts a 24-hour loop so fully and entertainingly that it is now the go-to example of time repetition. The recent Edge of Tomorrow was always compared with Groundhog Day, not with its lesser-known predecessors.

Easily Bill Murray’s best role, Phil Connors is the kind of cynical jerk he plays so well, condescending, sarcastic, the perfect candidate for an unexplained time paradox makeover. Over the course of his many Groundhog Days, he displays the full spectrum of reactions to his helpless situation: confusion, revelry, manipulation, depression, suicide, self-progress, and eventual altruism. The way he responds to the quirky townspeople of Punxsutawney, at first with disdain, then with fond geniality and authentic concern, clearly reveals his change of heart, as does his relationship with Rita, a down-to-earth Andie McDowall. All the repetition makes for certain scenes to be easily memorable, such as that buoyant polka music, the alarm clock’s Sonny and Cher theme, and Phil’s run-in with Stephen Tobolowsky’s geekily weird Ned…Ryerson! Bing! I especially love that groundhog gnawing the air at the steering wheel. Plus, George Fenton’s song “Weatherman” at the beginning is repeated at the end, thus making it eligible for my End Credits Song Hall of Fame.

Critics have discussed the film’s deeper themes, like Buddhist transcendence and Catholic purgatory, evidence that a good comedy is not simply a string of jokes but contains the potential for profound questions and intelligent discussion. While I prefer to just watch the film for its own hilarious sake, small details reveal divine presence, such as when Phil’s claim of being a god is contradicted by his futile efforts at saving a life. One does wonder whether Phil’s situation is intended as a blessing or a curse, since I can see myself being exasperated at the constant déjà vu and delighted with all the time at my disposal, but I suppose it is mainly an opportunity, to improve himself, assist the town, and become the perfect man for Rita. Whether for the delightful humor or the more profound messages, one can enjoy Groundhog Day time after time after time.

Best lines (so many): (Phil Connors) “Well, what if there is no tomorrow? There wasn’t one today.”
 
[my VC’s favorite]  (Phil) “Do you ever have déjà vu, Mrs. Lancaster?”  (Mrs. Lancaster) “I don’t think so, but I could check with the kitchen.”
 
(Phil’s piano teacher, as he is playing for her) “Not bad… Mr. Connors, you say this is your first lesson?” (Phil) “Yes, but my father was a piano mover, so…”
 
 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

283 Followers and Counting

#16: You’ve Got Mail (1998)

22 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, ,

“You’ve Got Mail”
Has never grown stale
For Kathleen Kelly when online.
Anonymous,
She loves to discuss
Trivialities that somehow shine.
 
She does not know
Her chatroom beau
Is bookstore heavyweight Joe Fox.
Her own bookstore
Has charm galore
But can’t compete when conflict knocks.
 
She is upset
Once they have met,
For he excels at talking smack.
And yet online,
They’re both benign,
Not knowing who is writing back.
 
When Joe Fox learns
The truth, it burns,
And he just keeps it to himself.
As business slows,
Her store must close,
And Kathleen mourns each empty shelf.
 
Because love’s growth
Eludes them both,
Joe tries again to be her friend.
Although his strife
Undid her life,
She doesn’t mind more time to spend.
 
Through days and weeks
And lows and peaks,
Friendship and love begin to bloom.
When truth is told,
They kiss and hold
The one behind the nom de plume.
_________________
 

When it comes to Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, most people seem to gravitate to Sleepless in Seattle, a great romantic comedy but one that suffers from their almost total lack of contact, despite memorable performances and script. Yet my VC and I have always enjoyed You’ve Got Mail even more. While it is based on a play previously adapted to film twice (1940’s The Shop Around the Corner and 1949’s In the Good Old Summertime), in some cases borrowing scenes line for line, the movie is further enhanced by references and parallels to Pride and Prejudice and Nora Ephron’s legendary dialogue. It’s one of those films I’ve seen so often that I practically know it by heart.

The two romantic leads start off unaware of each other’s existence but for trading impressions and insight via the Internet. Yes, the prominence of AOL’s “You’ve got mail” greeting dates the film, but it’s still an update from the letters used in prior versions of the story. Ryan and Hanks may not get along at first and even trade rather cruel barbs, but both of them exude charm and humor, which is simply more evident when they’re not around each other. Ryan is the underdog, owner of a small bookshop on the Upper West Side of New York; she’s friendly with her employees (Heather Burns, Steve Zahn, and Jean Stapleton) and living with a highly opinionated columnist obsessed with typewriters and himself (Greg Kinnear). Meanwhile, Hanks as Joe Fox is heir to a Barnes-and-Noble-style bookstore chain, full of discounts and lattes and a survival-of-the-cheapest mentality. He is superior to some extent, yet takes time out for his younger kin and seems like an overall decent chap. While it’s obvious that the two of them are on opposite sides, as business rivals, their back-and-forth sparring never overshadows the fact that they’re MFEO (go watch Sleepless in Seattle for clarification).

So much of this film’s success lies in the two lead actors, whose mere glances and tone offer endless amusement. There’s a scene in which their respective dates meet each other and trade unconsciously embarrassing remarks; the expressions on Hanks and Ryan’s faces are priceless. When Fox tries writing a conciliatory e-mail with ridiculous excuses, Hanks milks the unforeseen humor from the BACKSPACE button. When the script requires Ryan to respond with three yeses in a row, she fills each one with growing gravitas. They know how to say their lines perfectly, and luckily they are given plenty of notable lines to say, whether it be the meditations on the significance of Starbucks or The Godfather, the discussion of well-timed zingers, or the hilarious guesses on who the mysterious pen pal could be.

On top of all that, the film touches on some serious points, like the unstoppable advance of big-name commercialism over small-scale intimacy. Even though Kathleen and her boyfriend deride Fox as “the destroyer of city books,” when she actually visits the superstore, there’s little to dislike about all the “cheap books and legal addictive stimulants” that attract so many. The main fault is a lack of passion and knowledge in the employees (specifically Chris Messina in an early role), the personal customer connection lost amid the endless aisles. I’ll admit I enjoy visiting Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million (and Borders before they closed), but there’s something special about the well-worn shelves and comforting appeal of the “Shops around the Corner” that are still surviving, as well as a sense of loss when they fold. (See 84 Charing Cross Road for similar themes.)

Full of enduring quotes and droll character moments, You’ve Got Mail is among my favorite romantic comedies, an underseen gem and some of Ephron’s best work.

Best lines: (Kathleen, online) “So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
 
(Joe, discussing his handle NY152 with Kathleen) “N-Y-one-five-two. One hundred and fifty-two. He’s a hundred and fifty-two years old. He’s had one hundred and fifty-two moles removed, so now he’s got one hundred fifty-two pock marks on his… on his face.”   (Kathleen) “The number of people who think he looks like Clark Gable.”   (Joe) “One hundred and fifty-two people who think he looks like a Clark Bar.”
 
(Joe) “I like Patricia. I love Patricia. Patricia makes coffee nervous.”
 
 
Rank: 60 out of 60
 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

282 Followers and Counting