Sunday, May 30, 2004
Triplets of Bellville scares the 8 year old
Sigh. I have been told over and over by my wife and my daughter Genevieve (now 8 yrs old) that I should not, no wait, I am forbidden, to rent PG-13 movies for our weekly movie night. But I asked some folks if there was anything in The Triplets of Bellville that an 8 year-old might not be able to handle. Everyone looked at my quizzically. I wanted to see it. Everyone said it was great.
I rented it. Okay, so in the first 5 minutes a bunch of enormous women climb out of cars to enter a French club. One of the women has a man stuck in her butt. I thought it was kind of funny. I could feel my wife's eyes burning into me from the other side of the couch. Then, during the stage performance, a cartoon version of (damn, I can't remember the woman's name) comes out on stage just shaaaaaking her tits around. All she's wearing is a skirt made out of a couple of bananas. Gen says, "Ew, gross, she's not even wearing a bra." Strike two.
Later in the film three kidnapped cyclists are put in a room full of Mafia guys and forced to cycle in front of a projection screen until there's only one guy left. The crowd places their bets. (It reminded me a lot of the scene from The Deer Hunter with the crowd yelling and waving their money as Nick faces his opponents).
The first guy finally falls off his bike, exhausted. The "emcee" takes out a gun and shoots him dead. My daughter looks at me and says, "He killed him! You were supposed to make sure this wasn't PG-13!" And then she races up to her room very upset. What can I tell ya, she's a sensitive kid.
I really liked the film. The animation is very refreshing, the music is great and the story is very cool. But with all the violent scenarios in the end, the depiction of prostitutes at one point and some other stuff, this just isn't for the kiddies.
But it sure is for us grownups.
81/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
I rented it. Okay, so in the first 5 minutes a bunch of enormous women climb out of cars to enter a French club. One of the women has a man stuck in her butt. I thought it was kind of funny. I could feel my wife's eyes burning into me from the other side of the couch. Then, during the stage performance, a cartoon version of (damn, I can't remember the woman's name) comes out on stage just shaaaaaking her tits around. All she's wearing is a skirt made out of a couple of bananas. Gen says, "Ew, gross, she's not even wearing a bra." Strike two.
Later in the film three kidnapped cyclists are put in a room full of Mafia guys and forced to cycle in front of a projection screen until there's only one guy left. The crowd places their bets. (It reminded me a lot of the scene from The Deer Hunter with the crowd yelling and waving their money as Nick faces his opponents).
The first guy finally falls off his bike, exhausted. The "emcee" takes out a gun and shoots him dead. My daughter looks at me and says, "He killed him! You were supposed to make sure this wasn't PG-13!" And then she races up to her room very upset. What can I tell ya, she's a sensitive kid.
I really liked the film. The animation is very refreshing, the music is great and the story is very cool. But with all the violent scenarios in the end, the depiction of prostitutes at one point and some other stuff, this just isn't for the kiddies.
But it sure is for us grownups.
81/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
Sunday, April 11, 2004
Dr. Suess's The Cat in the Hat
Back in college we used to have fun trying to remember all the euphemisms for puking. One of my favorites was “Screaming Groceries,” but another one was “Technicolor Yawn.” That phrase kept coming back to me as I watched this new disaster of a film known as Dr. Suess’s The Cat in the Hat. It looks like a frat boy had too much beer, ate three tubes of super elastic bubble plastic on a dare and then . . . well . . . Technicolor Yawn.
There is no story, it’s annoying as hell and Mike Meyers does many flaccid imitations of characters we’ve seen from the Austin Powers flicks, only this time he’s in a cat suit so heavy he seems like he’s desperately trying to catch his breath and yell, “Get my agent on the phone and get me out of this piece of dreck!” There’s no purpose to the cat appearing on the scene. What the hell is he doing there? Oh right, he’s going to teach the boy to be a better kid and the girl to loosen up. Yawn.
Alec Baldwin fares the best as the villain who wants to marry Conrad and Sally’s mom. Kelly Preston does a fair job of injecting some stuff for the men in the audience with her M.I.L.F portrayal. There are lots of moments where the filmmakers try to get the parents to giggle but they just made me cringe. Here’s one: The cat to a hoe “Dirty hoe . . . I’m sorry, I love you.” Ewwww.
There’s a scene where The Cat introduces his car and it goes like this:
The Cat: (showing his car) Here she is, the Super Luxurious Omnidirectional Whatchamajigger, or S-L-O-W for short.
Sally: S-L-O-W?
The Cat: Yeah, S.L.O.W. It’s better than the last thing we had. Super Hydraulic Instantaneous Transporter?
Conrad: Oh, you mean . . .
The Cat: No! Quick! To the S.L.O.W.
It’s another stupid scene that tries to include the parents by adding a crude reference. It’s another moment that made me cringe; however, it did give me the idea for my rating of this film. It’s a piece of Super Hydraulic Instantaneous Transporter.
18/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
There is no story, it’s annoying as hell and Mike Meyers does many flaccid imitations of characters we’ve seen from the Austin Powers flicks, only this time he’s in a cat suit so heavy he seems like he’s desperately trying to catch his breath and yell, “Get my agent on the phone and get me out of this piece of dreck!” There’s no purpose to the cat appearing on the scene. What the hell is he doing there? Oh right, he’s going to teach the boy to be a better kid and the girl to loosen up. Yawn.
Alec Baldwin fares the best as the villain who wants to marry Conrad and Sally’s mom. Kelly Preston does a fair job of injecting some stuff for the men in the audience with her M.I.L.F portrayal. There are lots of moments where the filmmakers try to get the parents to giggle but they just made me cringe. Here’s one: The cat to a hoe “Dirty hoe . . . I’m sorry, I love you.” Ewwww.
There’s a scene where The Cat introduces his car and it goes like this:
The Cat: (showing his car) Here she is, the Super Luxurious Omnidirectional Whatchamajigger, or S-L-O-W for short.
Sally: S-L-O-W?
The Cat: Yeah, S.L.O.W. It’s better than the last thing we had. Super Hydraulic Instantaneous Transporter?
Conrad: Oh, you mean . . .
The Cat: No! Quick! To the S.L.O.W.
It’s another stupid scene that tries to include the parents by adding a crude reference. It’s another moment that made me cringe; however, it did give me the idea for my rating of this film. It’s a piece of Super Hydraulic Instantaneous Transporter.
18/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Intolerable Cruelty
I swear, I didn’t plan to follow a review of The Passion of the Christ with a film entitled Intolerable Cruelty. Although the titles may have something in common the stars of the Coen Brothers latest work look nothing like hamburger. Intolerable Cruelty is flashy, sleek and beautiful. I can almost see an old studio honcho with a big cigar exclaiming, “It’s got stars, lights, sets and costumes! Who can we get to match all that glory?” So he runs out and gets George Clooney, an actor who is fast becoming today’s answer to Cary Grant. To match Clooney’s easy-going, graceful style he gets the sumptuous Catherine Zeta-Jones, an actress with light-up-the-screen beauty.
George plays Miles Massey, a divorce lawyer who can twist a story until a cheating wife looks like an angel. His pre-nup is famous throughout the lawyering world as ironclad, a document so tight you could roll it up and drink from it without losing a drop of liquid. One day, the philandering Rex Rexroth (played with dopey charm by Edward Herrmann) comes to him hoping to hold onto his fortune. For Miles, it’s just another challenge.
Then he meets Marilyn Rexroth.
Boom! He is smitten, hit by the thunderbolt, pierced by cupid’s arrow. That little devil cupid is never seen in the film but is the major star of the wonderful opening credit sequence and his presence is felt throughout the film. This is Coen Brother’s screwball comedy light (they already visited this genre with The Hudsucker Proxy). In honor of the tradition there are a few surprises in store. I won’t be a spoil sport and give them away but if you are familiar with these characters you know how it’s going to end. The fun is in the journey.
The Coen Brothers’ films are a world unto themselves. They are splendidly photographed (many by the great Roger Deakins), filled with quirky dialogue and sometimes glossy to a fault. But they are always interesting. However, this one is a bit too glossy. There’s not much to it and it’s a bit of a puff piece compared to Fargo , or my favorite, Miller’s Crossing. In the midst of all the beauty you can usually expect a weird, quirky death sequence because nobody does death like the brother’s Coen. From the moment Lauren Visser met his unique end in Blood Simple the Coen’s have never given us a run of the mill murder and there’s one in this picture that will make you cringe and laugh out loud.
The film’s key scene is when Miles, as keynote speaker, preaches to the audience at the annual meeting of N.O.M.A.N (National Organization of Matrimonial Attorneys Nationwide). He gives a speech that references Michael Douglas’s famous greed harangue in Wall Street but is its antithesis. Miles is in love, and greed is going down.
Clooney is such a cool cucumber the fun is in watching him unravel while Catherine Zeta-Jones comes undone bit by little bit until the final . . . oops, almost gave it away. Not deep, but fun to watch, it’s a good flick for a lazy Sunday afternoon.
DVD, 1st viewing, 64/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
George plays Miles Massey, a divorce lawyer who can twist a story until a cheating wife looks like an angel. His pre-nup is famous throughout the lawyering world as ironclad, a document so tight you could roll it up and drink from it without losing a drop of liquid. One day, the philandering Rex Rexroth (played with dopey charm by Edward Herrmann) comes to him hoping to hold onto his fortune. For Miles, it’s just another challenge.
Then he meets Marilyn Rexroth.
Boom! He is smitten, hit by the thunderbolt, pierced by cupid’s arrow. That little devil cupid is never seen in the film but is the major star of the wonderful opening credit sequence and his presence is felt throughout the film. This is Coen Brother’s screwball comedy light (they already visited this genre with The Hudsucker Proxy). In honor of the tradition there are a few surprises in store. I won’t be a spoil sport and give them away but if you are familiar with these characters you know how it’s going to end. The fun is in the journey.
The Coen Brothers’ films are a world unto themselves. They are splendidly photographed (many by the great Roger Deakins), filled with quirky dialogue and sometimes glossy to a fault. But they are always interesting. However, this one is a bit too glossy. There’s not much to it and it’s a bit of a puff piece compared to Fargo , or my favorite, Miller’s Crossing. In the midst of all the beauty you can usually expect a weird, quirky death sequence because nobody does death like the brother’s Coen. From the moment Lauren Visser met his unique end in Blood Simple the Coen’s have never given us a run of the mill murder and there’s one in this picture that will make you cringe and laugh out loud.
The film’s key scene is when Miles, as keynote speaker, preaches to the audience at the annual meeting of N.O.M.A.N (National Organization of Matrimonial Attorneys Nationwide). He gives a speech that references Michael Douglas’s famous greed harangue in Wall Street but is its antithesis. Miles is in love, and greed is going down.
Clooney is such a cool cucumber the fun is in watching him unravel while Catherine Zeta-Jones comes undone bit by little bit until the final . . . oops, almost gave it away. Not deep, but fun to watch, it’s a good flick for a lazy Sunday afternoon.
DVD, 1st viewing, 64/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
Thursday, March 18, 2004
The Passion of the Christ or The Bags We Carry
We all bring our histories and experiences to art. Lots of people hate Meatloaf and his triumphal 70’s album Bat Out of Hell, but I was a senior in high school when it came out and its music forever linked me to five of my best friends. No matter where “Bat Out of Hell” began playing, if I were with Landi, Herb, C.J., Ang and Gretsch, or any combination of the above, we’d sing the song and dance wildly around the room. At my wedding, the crowd had to stand back while we drunkenly paraded through Steinman’s stomping piano and Meatloaf’s roaring ode to exploding youth.
More than almost any other film I think we carry our bags of history into the theater when we watch The Passion of the Christ. If you are a devout Christian it is very likely you will interpret the film as a glorious representation of how Christ willingly sacrificed his life for the sins of mankind while loving those who tortured and crucified him. If you grew up in a very observant Jewish household it’s entirely likely you will see blatant anti-Semitism. If, like me you grew up Jewish but are now an agnostic you may be able to step back and see the big sin committed by Mel and his movie.
It’s really kinda boring.
Caiphas and the Jewish priests drag Jesus around trying to get somebody to crucify him. They go to Pilate, to Herod and back to Pilate again all the time beating him, chaining him and pushing him around. Once we get to the now infamous scourging scene we need a little wake-up and Mel, who never shied away from violence, gives us everything he’s got. Is it bloody as all get out? You betcha. But the Romans who flay him are so cartoon-like I kept waiting for Larry, Moe and Curly (or was that Curly with the cat o’ nine tails?) to pop out and lend a hand. And there I think is one of the main faults with The Passion of the Christ. Mel has used a roller to paint his canvas when a fine paintbrush was needed in parts of the picture. Character is sacrificed for narrative and everyone comes off as very one dimensional, from the Jewish priests to cackling Barrabas to, well, Jesus himself. The only character who has much dimension is Pontius Pilate and that’s because Mel has made him a conflicted man controlled by local Hebrew rabble rather than the brutal governor history has revealed him to be.
Gibson claims he wanted to make the most authentic film about The Passion ever, to get the audience as close to the experience as possible, to show how truly brutal Jesus was treated. In a “bold” move, the film is completely subtitled (God forbid!) while the characters speak Aramaic and Latin (although Greek was the language spoken by the Romans at the time). But if he wanted to get us as close to the experience as possible, why all the booming music, why the Michael Mannish blue light and special effects? With all the slo-mo and spurting blood it seemed like Gibson was channeling the spirit of Peckinpah just as much as the Holy Ghost (who Mel claims was working through him while making the film). I felt Gibson was hammering me over the head with so much production value it became distracting from the authenticity of the period and the narrative.
Gibson seems to be suffering from what the great literary critic Harold Bloom referred to as “the anxiety of influence.” It is a complex theory and was written about poetry but I have found it to be very useful in examining any art form. In overtly simplistic terms it means the artist must always fight the tradition that came before him or her. This produces an anxiety to be original, and therefore creates a space in which they can place themselves into the tradition of said art through their work. This in turn defeats death by creating a work of art that influences subsequent individuals. Gibson has seen and is very aware of the depictions of Jesus in its many art forms (paintings, films, books). His awareness of this gargantuan tradition (and I think, his predilection for violence) has caused him to show us something we have never seen before – Jesus as hamburger.
During the film, there are a few strategically placed flashbacks to the last supper that Gibson uses to counteract the violence and try to show that Jesus taught we must love everyone, especially our enemies. But the flashbacks are so quick that the flog fest, cross-bearing, blood spurting, nail hammering and violence often drowns out these important teachings.
Is the film anti-Semitic or is it just a depiction of the events of the day? Are the Jews portrayed as a mob with no faces but the “hook-nosed” priests? We live in a world two thousand years removed from this event. Since then, the people of the world (especially those in the U.S.) have been mixed together into a lumpy ragout, but mixed nonetheless. Is it not possible that the Jews of that time looked like that? Sure it is. It’s funny, I’ve heard many complaints about the Jews portrayed as “hook-nosed” in the film while at the same time those same people complained that Jesus is portrayed by yet another lily-colored actor, that Jim Caviezel doesn’t “look” Jewish. Huh?
Is it not possible that the priests who had power saw Jesus as a great threat? Most likely. I wasn’t sure how accurate the film was to the gospels and how much artistic license Mel took. So I did some research and found Philip A. Cunningham’s article “Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ: A Challenge to Catholic Teaching,” to be a great help in answering my questions. (http://www.bc.edu/research/cjl/meta-elements/texts/reviews/gibson_cunningham.htm).
The big problem with this film is that Gibson is claiming it to be “the truth,” that everything in the film is taken directly from the four gospels. He has acknowledged the German Nun Catherine Emmerich to be a great influence on his depiction of The Passion but fails to see her anti-Semitic teachings as influencing his vision of the film. It’s entirely likely that at the time the Jewish high priests were angry at this blasphemer and afraid of his growing power. But Mel does everything in his film he can to make Caiphas the one responsible for the crucifixion of Jesus (especially an extended scourging scene) and the Jewish people a crazy bellowing mob. Gibson rejects the doctrine of Vatican II and that is very clear in his interpretation of The Passion. He embellishes, cuts, and skewers the event. Although Gibson claims his work is taken strictly from the four gospels, the influence of the Augustinian nun, Catherine Emmerich, whose interpretation of The Passion seethes with anti-Semitism is undeniable. Is Mel an anti-Semite? I don’t know, I don't know him personally, but he certainly seems to have veered down that path through his rejection of Vatican II and his refusal to disagree with his Holocaust denying father. If you are already leaning towards anti-Semitism I think you may come out of the theater once again blaming the Jews for the death of Christ.
However, I am fully convinced that no one film can turn a person from an anti-Semite into an anti-Semite, just as no one film can make a disbeliever into a devout Christian. The clay has to have been fired and dried in order for the paint to dry. If you follow the doctrines of Vatican II and have a truly loving heart I don’t think this film is going to make you hate Jews.
This past summer I snuck into a secret screening of the film for about twenty minutes and then again at the end to hear the question and answer session between Mel and his guests. His purpose truly seemed to be to turn those Christians who had wandered into an unfulfilling, secular life back to the church. In trying to do that I think he has reached his core audience (very devout Christians) while at the same time whipping up enough controversy to draw the masses into theater.
It is perhaps the greatest marketing plan I’ve ever witnessed. Make sure people know it’s extremely violent because that sells tickets and fan the flames of controversy. Then, send out a press release telling church leaders this is perhaps the greatest public relations opportunity for the Christian faith in 2000 years so that a huge amount of church leaders urge their congregation to see the film even though they haven’t seen it themselves. This drives me crazy. The manner in which so many people have swallowed the gospel of Mel, hook, line and sinker, have urged folks to take their children and have supported the film sight unseen just because Mr. Gibson told them they should, I find more than a tad worrisome.
See the film FIRST, then recommend it or revile it. I’ve seen it. I can’t recommend it.
41/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
More than almost any other film I think we carry our bags of history into the theater when we watch The Passion of the Christ. If you are a devout Christian it is very likely you will interpret the film as a glorious representation of how Christ willingly sacrificed his life for the sins of mankind while loving those who tortured and crucified him. If you grew up in a very observant Jewish household it’s entirely likely you will see blatant anti-Semitism. If, like me you grew up Jewish but are now an agnostic you may be able to step back and see the big sin committed by Mel and his movie.
It’s really kinda boring.
Caiphas and the Jewish priests drag Jesus around trying to get somebody to crucify him. They go to Pilate, to Herod and back to Pilate again all the time beating him, chaining him and pushing him around. Once we get to the now infamous scourging scene we need a little wake-up and Mel, who never shied away from violence, gives us everything he’s got. Is it bloody as all get out? You betcha. But the Romans who flay him are so cartoon-like I kept waiting for Larry, Moe and Curly (or was that Curly with the cat o’ nine tails?) to pop out and lend a hand. And there I think is one of the main faults with The Passion of the Christ. Mel has used a roller to paint his canvas when a fine paintbrush was needed in parts of the picture. Character is sacrificed for narrative and everyone comes off as very one dimensional, from the Jewish priests to cackling Barrabas to, well, Jesus himself. The only character who has much dimension is Pontius Pilate and that’s because Mel has made him a conflicted man controlled by local Hebrew rabble rather than the brutal governor history has revealed him to be.
Gibson claims he wanted to make the most authentic film about The Passion ever, to get the audience as close to the experience as possible, to show how truly brutal Jesus was treated. In a “bold” move, the film is completely subtitled (God forbid!) while the characters speak Aramaic and Latin (although Greek was the language spoken by the Romans at the time). But if he wanted to get us as close to the experience as possible, why all the booming music, why the Michael Mannish blue light and special effects? With all the slo-mo and spurting blood it seemed like Gibson was channeling the spirit of Peckinpah just as much as the Holy Ghost (who Mel claims was working through him while making the film). I felt Gibson was hammering me over the head with so much production value it became distracting from the authenticity of the period and the narrative.
Gibson seems to be suffering from what the great literary critic Harold Bloom referred to as “the anxiety of influence.” It is a complex theory and was written about poetry but I have found it to be very useful in examining any art form. In overtly simplistic terms it means the artist must always fight the tradition that came before him or her. This produces an anxiety to be original, and therefore creates a space in which they can place themselves into the tradition of said art through their work. This in turn defeats death by creating a work of art that influences subsequent individuals. Gibson has seen and is very aware of the depictions of Jesus in its many art forms (paintings, films, books). His awareness of this gargantuan tradition (and I think, his predilection for violence) has caused him to show us something we have never seen before – Jesus as hamburger.
During the film, there are a few strategically placed flashbacks to the last supper that Gibson uses to counteract the violence and try to show that Jesus taught we must love everyone, especially our enemies. But the flashbacks are so quick that the flog fest, cross-bearing, blood spurting, nail hammering and violence often drowns out these important teachings.
Is the film anti-Semitic or is it just a depiction of the events of the day? Are the Jews portrayed as a mob with no faces but the “hook-nosed” priests? We live in a world two thousand years removed from this event. Since then, the people of the world (especially those in the U.S.) have been mixed together into a lumpy ragout, but mixed nonetheless. Is it not possible that the Jews of that time looked like that? Sure it is. It’s funny, I’ve heard many complaints about the Jews portrayed as “hook-nosed” in the film while at the same time those same people complained that Jesus is portrayed by yet another lily-colored actor, that Jim Caviezel doesn’t “look” Jewish. Huh?
Is it not possible that the priests who had power saw Jesus as a great threat? Most likely. I wasn’t sure how accurate the film was to the gospels and how much artistic license Mel took. So I did some research and found Philip A. Cunningham’s article “Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ: A Challenge to Catholic Teaching,” to be a great help in answering my questions. (http://www.bc.edu/research/cjl/meta-elements/texts/reviews/gibson_cunningham.htm).
The big problem with this film is that Gibson is claiming it to be “the truth,” that everything in the film is taken directly from the four gospels. He has acknowledged the German Nun Catherine Emmerich to be a great influence on his depiction of The Passion but fails to see her anti-Semitic teachings as influencing his vision of the film. It’s entirely likely that at the time the Jewish high priests were angry at this blasphemer and afraid of his growing power. But Mel does everything in his film he can to make Caiphas the one responsible for the crucifixion of Jesus (especially an extended scourging scene) and the Jewish people a crazy bellowing mob. Gibson rejects the doctrine of Vatican II and that is very clear in his interpretation of The Passion. He embellishes, cuts, and skewers the event. Although Gibson claims his work is taken strictly from the four gospels, the influence of the Augustinian nun, Catherine Emmerich, whose interpretation of The Passion seethes with anti-Semitism is undeniable. Is Mel an anti-Semite? I don’t know, I don't know him personally, but he certainly seems to have veered down that path through his rejection of Vatican II and his refusal to disagree with his Holocaust denying father. If you are already leaning towards anti-Semitism I think you may come out of the theater once again blaming the Jews for the death of Christ.
However, I am fully convinced that no one film can turn a person from an anti-Semite into an anti-Semite, just as no one film can make a disbeliever into a devout Christian. The clay has to have been fired and dried in order for the paint to dry. If you follow the doctrines of Vatican II and have a truly loving heart I don’t think this film is going to make you hate Jews.
This past summer I snuck into a secret screening of the film for about twenty minutes and then again at the end to hear the question and answer session between Mel and his guests. His purpose truly seemed to be to turn those Christians who had wandered into an unfulfilling, secular life back to the church. In trying to do that I think he has reached his core audience (very devout Christians) while at the same time whipping up enough controversy to draw the masses into theater.
It is perhaps the greatest marketing plan I’ve ever witnessed. Make sure people know it’s extremely violent because that sells tickets and fan the flames of controversy. Then, send out a press release telling church leaders this is perhaps the greatest public relations opportunity for the Christian faith in 2000 years so that a huge amount of church leaders urge their congregation to see the film even though they haven’t seen it themselves. This drives me crazy. The manner in which so many people have swallowed the gospel of Mel, hook, line and sinker, have urged folks to take their children and have supported the film sight unseen just because Mr. Gibson told them they should, I find more than a tad worrisome.
See the film FIRST, then recommend it or revile it. I’ve seen it. I can’t recommend it.
41/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
Friday, March 12, 2004
The School of Rock and The Kids Are Alright
He’s got the swagger of a young John Travolta, the weight and gymnastic abilities of John Belushi and a pair of eyebrows that move like a sidewinder over the desert sand. Jack Black is a charismatic ball of Tasmanian energy who not only plays a rock and roller in the irresistible The School of Rock, he’s one in real life. Well, sorta. As he puts it, “I’m not really that good but I make up for it in intensity.” As Dewey Finn (any relation to Huck?) that intensity goes a long way as he barrels through The School of Rock pulling the entire cast along with him in his celebratory wake.
Dewey wakes up one morning after his usual drunken, hard rocking night playing to twelve people in a bar to find out he’s been kicked out of his band. To make matters worse his best friend Ned Schneebly (Mike White) seems to have finally formed a teensy bit of a spine and with the help of his bitch girlfriend Patty and is now demanding the rent.
What’s a washed up good-for-nothing to do except impersonate his buddy Ned and take a substitute job at a prep school. Dewey doesn’t know a thing about math and science but when he hears the kids in music class plodding along with their classical gifts he knows what he must do – form a rock band with the youngsters and win the upcoming “Battle of the Bands.”
Although the plot runs down the expected road it is the driver that makes all the difference. Black is Mario Andretti, inspiring his students to new heights with the help of the Gods of Rock and Roll. The kids are all fine in this picture but none is a match for the animated mastery of Black. Many of them fit into stereotypical molds and the young man who insists on being the band’s costume designer comes off the worst with his effeminate demeanor (not that there’s anything wroooong with that.)
Joan Cusack turns in another fine comic performance as the principal of the school. She hits just the right notes as one who must balance the threat of parents paying fifteen thousand dollars a year for their kids’ education with one who longs to go out with one of the teachers, have a beer and sing along with Stevie Nicks.
The movie is no great revelatory work but it exemplifies what makes up a great teacher: a passion for a subject and the ability to inspire others with that passion. The plot may be a bit rote, the stereotypes may be fully in place, it doesn’t delve in the “dangerous” side of Rock, but with the joyous Jack Black as the lead this production sings.
I brought my seven year-old to see it when it first came out and she claimed it the best movie ever made. After a second look at the DVD she proclaimed, “I love Jack Black. Not just in a love-love way, but in a lovey-dovey way.” Uh-oh.
DVD extras: There are a couple of little docs on the disc with Jack Black doing his thing. He’s a funny guy and his pitch to Led Zepplin is a great bit (and it worked!). Probably the most valuable extra is the interactive “Dewey Finn’s History of Rock.” Slap the DVD into your ROM drive and explore the “Rock History Chalkboard” in all its glory. By clicking on each subject (hard rock, folk rock, etc) you can read a little tidbit about each band. One glaring error, and for me it’s a biggie, is that Bruce Springsteen is nowhere to be found. I looked around the board and he doesn’t really figure into any of the categories. That’s because he’s his own freakin’ category – Blue Collar Rock! To not even mention Springsteen is a major sin but it’s possible he wouldn’t lend his name to the movie. If that’s so then I’ll forgive the makers of School of Rock. Or is it The School of Rock. Black and Linklater have a lot of fun throughout the extras dissecting the use of the word “The” in movie titles.
I had a chance to listen to the commentary track by Black and Linklater and it’s okay. Unfortunately, most commentaries usually consist of the director (and whomever else is there) saying things like, “Oh, here’s so and so. She was great to work with,” or “It was so cold that day!” Yawn. This one isn’t much better. I haven’t listened to the commentary by the kids yet but who knows, maybe it will be great.
Black’s star-making turn and that interactive chalkboard make this disc worth owning.
Black’s performance: 90/100
Film: 85/100
Extras: 79/100
“I can do anything,
right or wrong.
I can talk anyhow
and get along
Don’t care anyway. . . “
Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere
by The Who
In The School of Rock the kids are all right, but in The Kids Are Alright The Who are the snortin' gods of rock, a seminal band praised by Jack Black. To find out where Dewey Finn gets some of his inspiration, I turned to this Who extravaganza for some serious rock history . . . and “theeeeory.” Ha! Ya want theory? Forget it! The Kids Are Alright is a gang busting, hard-rocking, at times hilarious ride chronicling the lives and live shows of Roger Daltry, Pete Townsend, John Entwistle and Keith Moon. These are the guys that make up The Who, one of rock’s greatest bands.
The film opens with the band's appearance on the Smother's Brothers show. After a raucous version of "My Generation," Townsend smashes his guitar and Moon's drums explode with deafening consequences . . . on Townsend's hearing. Moon, ever the prankster, had asked a stagehand to put extra charges in his bass drum for the big finale. A symbol sliced through Moon’s arm and Townsend’s hair caught on fire. Townsend completely lost his hearing for about 20 minutes and this incident is responsible for a measurable amount of his permanent hearing loss. You’d think Pete would have been furious with Moon for this, but in the next segment, an interview with Russell Harty, you can see what great friends they are.
There are lots of fun bits throughout the disc and one gets a real sense of how The Who couldn’t give a shit about what people thought of them. They all had a wicked sense of humor; from Entwistle taking Roger’s gold records off the wall in his home and skeet shooting them into oblivion to Moon’s being interviewed while dressed in a leather mask, tied up and being whipped. They lived their lives the way they pleased and everyone else be damned. If that’s the way it was, then so be it. Their uncensored lifestyle created phenomenal rock n’ roll music.
There are live performances of the anthems "My Generation" and "Won’t Get Fooled Again." These songs are on Who’s Next, one of the milestone albums of rock. Townsend is the artistic center of the band, Entwistle the steady anchor, Daltry the beatific, swaggering front man and Moon is without a doubt simply the greatest drummer of all time. There are moments when it seems his arms aren’t attached to his body and one of the great pleasures of this restored disc is seeing him in all his glory.
The disc climaxes with an enraged performance of “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” complete with laser light show. This is from the presentation at Shepperton studios staged by director Jeff Stein so he could capture The Who performing some of their greatest songs on film. It’s actually a second take of the song. Stein wasn’t happy with the first take and reluctantly asked the band to take the stage once more. Townsend was furious. “Jeff, what do you want me to do? Go out there and fall asleep playing? Maybe I should go out there and die during my last solo? Or maybe I should hit that guy who’s been yelling for ‘Magic Bus’ over the head with my guitar?” Fueled by anger, the band takes the stage and gives a rip-roaring version of this classic tune. Sadly, it would be the last time Keith Moon would perform with the band before he died six months later.
Unlike many commentary tracks, this one by Jeff Stein is full of golden nuggets of Who history and rich with behind the scenes stories about the band. He may get a little repetitive because of his unchecked fandom but it’s a lot more interesting than many of the commentary tracks I’ve heard. For example, he says that Pete Townsend may not have been the most concise guitar player but he is certainly the greatest guitar showman ever. This is proven throughout The Kids Are Alright.
In one interview on the disc Townsend claims to “not be himself” when on stage, he feels he must be in a certain state of mind. Those who have tried to get on stage during a Who concert have found that out the hard way. On the commentary track Stein elaborates on Townsend’s “state of mind” during a few concerts. He tells how Abbie Hoffman tried to make a speech to the crowd during The Who’s performance at Woodstock. Pete quickly smashed him over the head with his guitar and pushed him off the stage. In another incident, a plainclothes policeman tried to take the stage to warn the crowd of a fire next door. Townsend kicked him in the balls and sent him packing. The band spent the night in jail.
For all of you who think The White Stripes or The New Pornographers are the second coming of rock I highly recommend popping this disc into your player to get a serious education in rock history.
Remember to turn the speakers up to 11.
91/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net (if I ever figure out how to make this a direct link it will be easier)
Dewey wakes up one morning after his usual drunken, hard rocking night playing to twelve people in a bar to find out he’s been kicked out of his band. To make matters worse his best friend Ned Schneebly (Mike White) seems to have finally formed a teensy bit of a spine and with the help of his bitch girlfriend Patty and is now demanding the rent.
What’s a washed up good-for-nothing to do except impersonate his buddy Ned and take a substitute job at a prep school. Dewey doesn’t know a thing about math and science but when he hears the kids in music class plodding along with their classical gifts he knows what he must do – form a rock band with the youngsters and win the upcoming “Battle of the Bands.”
Although the plot runs down the expected road it is the driver that makes all the difference. Black is Mario Andretti, inspiring his students to new heights with the help of the Gods of Rock and Roll. The kids are all fine in this picture but none is a match for the animated mastery of Black. Many of them fit into stereotypical molds and the young man who insists on being the band’s costume designer comes off the worst with his effeminate demeanor (not that there’s anything wroooong with that.)
Joan Cusack turns in another fine comic performance as the principal of the school. She hits just the right notes as one who must balance the threat of parents paying fifteen thousand dollars a year for their kids’ education with one who longs to go out with one of the teachers, have a beer and sing along with Stevie Nicks.
The movie is no great revelatory work but it exemplifies what makes up a great teacher: a passion for a subject and the ability to inspire others with that passion. The plot may be a bit rote, the stereotypes may be fully in place, it doesn’t delve in the “dangerous” side of Rock, but with the joyous Jack Black as the lead this production sings.
I brought my seven year-old to see it when it first came out and she claimed it the best movie ever made. After a second look at the DVD she proclaimed, “I love Jack Black. Not just in a love-love way, but in a lovey-dovey way.” Uh-oh.
DVD extras: There are a couple of little docs on the disc with Jack Black doing his thing. He’s a funny guy and his pitch to Led Zepplin is a great bit (and it worked!). Probably the most valuable extra is the interactive “Dewey Finn’s History of Rock.” Slap the DVD into your ROM drive and explore the “Rock History Chalkboard” in all its glory. By clicking on each subject (hard rock, folk rock, etc) you can read a little tidbit about each band. One glaring error, and for me it’s a biggie, is that Bruce Springsteen is nowhere to be found. I looked around the board and he doesn’t really figure into any of the categories. That’s because he’s his own freakin’ category – Blue Collar Rock! To not even mention Springsteen is a major sin but it’s possible he wouldn’t lend his name to the movie. If that’s so then I’ll forgive the makers of School of Rock. Or is it The School of Rock. Black and Linklater have a lot of fun throughout the extras dissecting the use of the word “The” in movie titles.
I had a chance to listen to the commentary track by Black and Linklater and it’s okay. Unfortunately, most commentaries usually consist of the director (and whomever else is there) saying things like, “Oh, here’s so and so. She was great to work with,” or “It was so cold that day!” Yawn. This one isn’t much better. I haven’t listened to the commentary by the kids yet but who knows, maybe it will be great.
Black’s star-making turn and that interactive chalkboard make this disc worth owning.
Black’s performance: 90/100
Film: 85/100
Extras: 79/100
“I can do anything,
right or wrong.
I can talk anyhow
and get along
Don’t care anyway. . . “
Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere
by The Who
In The School of Rock the kids are all right, but in The Kids Are Alright The Who are the snortin' gods of rock, a seminal band praised by Jack Black. To find out where Dewey Finn gets some of his inspiration, I turned to this Who extravaganza for some serious rock history . . . and “theeeeory.” Ha! Ya want theory? Forget it! The Kids Are Alright is a gang busting, hard-rocking, at times hilarious ride chronicling the lives and live shows of Roger Daltry, Pete Townsend, John Entwistle and Keith Moon. These are the guys that make up The Who, one of rock’s greatest bands.
The film opens with the band's appearance on the Smother's Brothers show. After a raucous version of "My Generation," Townsend smashes his guitar and Moon's drums explode with deafening consequences . . . on Townsend's hearing. Moon, ever the prankster, had asked a stagehand to put extra charges in his bass drum for the big finale. A symbol sliced through Moon’s arm and Townsend’s hair caught on fire. Townsend completely lost his hearing for about 20 minutes and this incident is responsible for a measurable amount of his permanent hearing loss. You’d think Pete would have been furious with Moon for this, but in the next segment, an interview with Russell Harty, you can see what great friends they are.
There are lots of fun bits throughout the disc and one gets a real sense of how The Who couldn’t give a shit about what people thought of them. They all had a wicked sense of humor; from Entwistle taking Roger’s gold records off the wall in his home and skeet shooting them into oblivion to Moon’s being interviewed while dressed in a leather mask, tied up and being whipped. They lived their lives the way they pleased and everyone else be damned. If that’s the way it was, then so be it. Their uncensored lifestyle created phenomenal rock n’ roll music.
There are live performances of the anthems "My Generation" and "Won’t Get Fooled Again." These songs are on Who’s Next, one of the milestone albums of rock. Townsend is the artistic center of the band, Entwistle the steady anchor, Daltry the beatific, swaggering front man and Moon is without a doubt simply the greatest drummer of all time. There are moments when it seems his arms aren’t attached to his body and one of the great pleasures of this restored disc is seeing him in all his glory.
The disc climaxes with an enraged performance of “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” complete with laser light show. This is from the presentation at Shepperton studios staged by director Jeff Stein so he could capture The Who performing some of their greatest songs on film. It’s actually a second take of the song. Stein wasn’t happy with the first take and reluctantly asked the band to take the stage once more. Townsend was furious. “Jeff, what do you want me to do? Go out there and fall asleep playing? Maybe I should go out there and die during my last solo? Or maybe I should hit that guy who’s been yelling for ‘Magic Bus’ over the head with my guitar?” Fueled by anger, the band takes the stage and gives a rip-roaring version of this classic tune. Sadly, it would be the last time Keith Moon would perform with the band before he died six months later.
Unlike many commentary tracks, this one by Jeff Stein is full of golden nuggets of Who history and rich with behind the scenes stories about the band. He may get a little repetitive because of his unchecked fandom but it’s a lot more interesting than many of the commentary tracks I’ve heard. For example, he says that Pete Townsend may not have been the most concise guitar player but he is certainly the greatest guitar showman ever. This is proven throughout The Kids Are Alright.
In one interview on the disc Townsend claims to “not be himself” when on stage, he feels he must be in a certain state of mind. Those who have tried to get on stage during a Who concert have found that out the hard way. On the commentary track Stein elaborates on Townsend’s “state of mind” during a few concerts. He tells how Abbie Hoffman tried to make a speech to the crowd during The Who’s performance at Woodstock. Pete quickly smashed him over the head with his guitar and pushed him off the stage. In another incident, a plainclothes policeman tried to take the stage to warn the crowd of a fire next door. Townsend kicked him in the balls and sent him packing. The band spent the night in jail.
For all of you who think The White Stripes or The New Pornographers are the second coming of rock I highly recommend popping this disc into your player to get a serious education in rock history.
Remember to turn the speakers up to 11.
91/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net (if I ever figure out how to make this a direct link it will be easier)
Monday, March 08, 2004
Bend It Like Beckham
Bend It Like Beckham has no surprises. From the moment we see Jules approach “Jess” to play football (us Americans know it as soccer) for her team we know already know how the game is going to turn out. Jess’s parents will try to keep her from her dreams of playing ball and squeeze her into an unending life of cooking traditional Indian dinners for her someday husband. I mean, why can’t she be more like her older sister, Peema? At least she has her priorities straight. She’s busy preparing for the most significant event in her life – her wedding.
Look, there goes Jess, off to play football while lying to her parents about having a job. Yup, there she is falling for the head coach, an act that scores big penalty points with her best friend. Will Jess’s Dad allow her to skip part of her sister’s wedding so she can go play in the big game, one that an American scout is attending? What do you think? And what dark secret does the father hold that frees his mind to let Jess go? Take a guess.
The performances are all quite good, especially from Patminder K. Nagra as Jesminder and Anupam Kher as her father. I also liked the music accompanying the bursts of colorful montage sequences during the soccer games and shopping sprees. The movie isn’t horrible, it’s just predictable as apple pie and done with too many broad strokes when some subtlety would have been a better ingredient.
DVD - 1st viewing. It scores a 59/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
Look, there goes Jess, off to play football while lying to her parents about having a job. Yup, there she is falling for the head coach, an act that scores big penalty points with her best friend. Will Jess’s Dad allow her to skip part of her sister’s wedding so she can go play in the big game, one that an American scout is attending? What do you think? And what dark secret does the father hold that frees his mind to let Jess go? Take a guess.
The performances are all quite good, especially from Patminder K. Nagra as Jesminder and Anupam Kher as her father. I also liked the music accompanying the bursts of colorful montage sequences during the soccer games and shopping sprees. The movie isn’t horrible, it’s just predictable as apple pie and done with too many broad strokes when some subtlety would have been a better ingredient.
DVD - 1st viewing. It scores a 59/100
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
Why Do I Love the Movies?
Damn if I can figure it out. I have loved the movies since I was a little kid. I loved getting lost in worlds so unlike my idyllic suburban environment. But here's a story that was originally published in Chicken Soup for the Father's Soul. Yeah, go ahead and blast it for its dripping sentimentality. I don't care. There were 2000 submissions for this book and they only printed 101 stories. All you jaded souls can scoff. My Dad loves the story. And so do I.
No More Sunday Matinees
I have loved movies since I was a child. I attended Sunday matinees at the Monroe Theater, seeing films like The Love Bug, Charlie the Lonesome Cougar and The Reluctant Astronaut. Then, in 1970 I turned ten, and my hormones kicked in big time. I got into trouble (at that time, getting into trouble meant lighting gasoline in the street and stealing comic books) and my tastes turned from Disney movies to more mature fare. Still, I was precluded from seeing R-rated movies.
All at once, there were commercials on TV for The French Connection. They looked exciting, streetwise, powerful, and testosterone driven. This was going to be a man's movie. And I was going to miss out because I wasn't old enough. I can remember when my dad and older brother went to see it, stepping into the freezing night calling, We'll be back later, Peter running ahead of my Dad in anticipation.
The French Connection broke new ground. The car chase was daring, edgy, and thrilling, like nothing ever seen before (the commercial focused on this now famous scene and made me long to see the movie). Gene Hackman's portrayal of Popeye Doyle was far from the clean-cut cop audiences were used to seeing. Instead, he played this New York City detective as a trash-mouthed, racist, angry, anti-hero (the film would later snag Academy Awards for best film, director, actor, screenplay and editing). I was a movie fanatic and I felt I was missing out on something historical, daring, and new. Peter was thrilled to be seeing it. I, however, was relegated to another dreary night at home with my mom and younger brother, Steven.
When Peter and my Dad got home they expressed what I already knew. The movie was great. They talked about the car chase. Unbelievable! Hackman was fantastic! Oh, how I wished I were older and could . . .
"You want to go see it Leonard?"
Was that my father who just said that? Did I hear right? My confirmation came in a second. It was my mother.
"Ed. Do you really think he should see it?" Oh mom, don't kill my chances. Don't plant the seed of doubt. Be quiet for just a little longer until I can extract a promise. Then the sweet words came and the foot gently came down with them.
"I don't see why not. I think he's old enough to handle it. We can go tomorrow night."
"But you just went with Peter tonight. You're going to go again tomorrow?"
My dad looked over at me. He must have seen my eyes, filled with excitement and anticipation.
"Sure, why not?" he said.
"Yay!" I cried and leapt into the air.
The next night I could hardly eat my dinner. I couldn't wait to get out of the house and see something that I thought only my older brother would be allowed to see.
"Leonard, if you don't eat something you're going to be hungry at the movies," he said smiling to himself. There it was again, confirmation of the event. Yes, we were actually going to go see this R-rated movie together. It would be my first one, my initiation. At last dinner was over. We donned our winter coats and stepped to the front door. My dad grinned, tossed his head back and called out, "We'll be back later."
"Okay," said my mom, "have fun." I was so thrilled. Now it was Peter's turn to stay home with mom and Steven.
We got into the car. It was freezing. My dad's Old Spice cologne gently
enveloped me and the car got warmer as the heater kicked in. I could feel his love for me. This was a time for just he and I to be together. Even though he had just seen the movie the night before, he was going to take me tonight. He didn't even wait a few weeks. I was impressed and felt special.
The Monroe Theater was big (none of those shoebox multiplex theaters back
then) and smelled of heat, popcorn, and seat cloth. Back then anyone under age twelve couldn't get into an R-rated movie. I looked older than I was and my dad paid the extra money so we wouldn't have any trouble from the ticket lady. I was thrilled that my father thought I was mature enough to see an R-rated movie and that he had no problem saying, "Two adults, please," when getting our tickets. The French Connection was better than I had anticipated. It was the most exciting movie I'd ever seen.
And the most adult.
Hackman cursed like a sailor, beat suspects, crashed his car through New York
City in pursuit of a sniper and shot him on the stairs of a train stop. For weeks afterward I would stand at the bottom of my basement stairs, feign exhaustion, point my imaginary gun upward and yell,"Hold it!" just as Hackman did before he shoots the bad guy.
After the movie we went home, pulled into the driveway and got out of the car.
As we walked up the steps I turned to my dad and really looked at him. I wanted him to know how happy he'd made me, how wonderful it was to believe he thought of me as an adult (at least in some way) but all I could come up with was, "Thanks for taking me dad." He hugged me, his big arms wrapping me tightly, and held me for just a little longer than usual. Old Spice smelled so sweet.
"Oh, my pleasure," he said, "my pleasure!"
And it was.
After that we went to the movies alone together all the time. The R-rating lost its importance and was no longer considered a sticking point. I had seen one and could now see all of them. My rite of passage was over. But when I was fifteen things changed a bit and I went to the movies with my friends more than my dad.
In 1975, Peter and I, and my friends Glen Belfer and C.J. Konnerth, waited on
line for two hours (this was very unusual back then!) to see Jaws. I went home raving about it. What a fantastic movie! I could see my father wishing he had been allowed to go with the teenagers to see this event because there was no way my mother was going to go with him and he certainly wouldn't see it by himself. But he was the parent now. Teenagers don't really want their parents around when going to the movies as a group.
"Hey dad," I said, "Ya wanna go see it?"
He seemed a little surprised. He hesitated, knowing how his place had changed, but said, "Well, yes, I'd love to."
"Okay, we'll go. Tomorrow night. Just you and me."
"Terrific," he said turning away so I couldn't see him smiling from ear to ear.
The next night we waited on line for two hours to see Jaws. And this time it was my pleasure to take my father to the movies. My pleasure.
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
No More Sunday Matinees
I have loved movies since I was a child. I attended Sunday matinees at the Monroe Theater, seeing films like The Love Bug, Charlie the Lonesome Cougar and The Reluctant Astronaut. Then, in 1970 I turned ten, and my hormones kicked in big time. I got into trouble (at that time, getting into trouble meant lighting gasoline in the street and stealing comic books) and my tastes turned from Disney movies to more mature fare. Still, I was precluded from seeing R-rated movies.
All at once, there were commercials on TV for The French Connection. They looked exciting, streetwise, powerful, and testosterone driven. This was going to be a man's movie. And I was going to miss out because I wasn't old enough. I can remember when my dad and older brother went to see it, stepping into the freezing night calling, We'll be back later, Peter running ahead of my Dad in anticipation.
The French Connection broke new ground. The car chase was daring, edgy, and thrilling, like nothing ever seen before (the commercial focused on this now famous scene and made me long to see the movie). Gene Hackman's portrayal of Popeye Doyle was far from the clean-cut cop audiences were used to seeing. Instead, he played this New York City detective as a trash-mouthed, racist, angry, anti-hero (the film would later snag Academy Awards for best film, director, actor, screenplay and editing). I was a movie fanatic and I felt I was missing out on something historical, daring, and new. Peter was thrilled to be seeing it. I, however, was relegated to another dreary night at home with my mom and younger brother, Steven.
When Peter and my Dad got home they expressed what I already knew. The movie was great. They talked about the car chase. Unbelievable! Hackman was fantastic! Oh, how I wished I were older and could . . .
"You want to go see it Leonard?"
Was that my father who just said that? Did I hear right? My confirmation came in a second. It was my mother.
"Ed. Do you really think he should see it?" Oh mom, don't kill my chances. Don't plant the seed of doubt. Be quiet for just a little longer until I can extract a promise. Then the sweet words came and the foot gently came down with them.
"I don't see why not. I think he's old enough to handle it. We can go tomorrow night."
"But you just went with Peter tonight. You're going to go again tomorrow?"
My dad looked over at me. He must have seen my eyes, filled with excitement and anticipation.
"Sure, why not?" he said.
"Yay!" I cried and leapt into the air.
The next night I could hardly eat my dinner. I couldn't wait to get out of the house and see something that I thought only my older brother would be allowed to see.
"Leonard, if you don't eat something you're going to be hungry at the movies," he said smiling to himself. There it was again, confirmation of the event. Yes, we were actually going to go see this R-rated movie together. It would be my first one, my initiation. At last dinner was over. We donned our winter coats and stepped to the front door. My dad grinned, tossed his head back and called out, "We'll be back later."
"Okay," said my mom, "have fun." I was so thrilled. Now it was Peter's turn to stay home with mom and Steven.
We got into the car. It was freezing. My dad's Old Spice cologne gently
enveloped me and the car got warmer as the heater kicked in. I could feel his love for me. This was a time for just he and I to be together. Even though he had just seen the movie the night before, he was going to take me tonight. He didn't even wait a few weeks. I was impressed and felt special.
The Monroe Theater was big (none of those shoebox multiplex theaters back
then) and smelled of heat, popcorn, and seat cloth. Back then anyone under age twelve couldn't get into an R-rated movie. I looked older than I was and my dad paid the extra money so we wouldn't have any trouble from the ticket lady. I was thrilled that my father thought I was mature enough to see an R-rated movie and that he had no problem saying, "Two adults, please," when getting our tickets. The French Connection was better than I had anticipated. It was the most exciting movie I'd ever seen.
And the most adult.
Hackman cursed like a sailor, beat suspects, crashed his car through New York
City in pursuit of a sniper and shot him on the stairs of a train stop. For weeks afterward I would stand at the bottom of my basement stairs, feign exhaustion, point my imaginary gun upward and yell,"Hold it!" just as Hackman did before he shoots the bad guy.
After the movie we went home, pulled into the driveway and got out of the car.
As we walked up the steps I turned to my dad and really looked at him. I wanted him to know how happy he'd made me, how wonderful it was to believe he thought of me as an adult (at least in some way) but all I could come up with was, "Thanks for taking me dad." He hugged me, his big arms wrapping me tightly, and held me for just a little longer than usual. Old Spice smelled so sweet.
"Oh, my pleasure," he said, "my pleasure!"
And it was.
After that we went to the movies alone together all the time. The R-rating lost its importance and was no longer considered a sticking point. I had seen one and could now see all of them. My rite of passage was over. But when I was fifteen things changed a bit and I went to the movies with my friends more than my dad.
In 1975, Peter and I, and my friends Glen Belfer and C.J. Konnerth, waited on
line for two hours (this was very unusual back then!) to see Jaws. I went home raving about it. What a fantastic movie! I could see my father wishing he had been allowed to go with the teenagers to see this event because there was no way my mother was going to go with him and he certainly wouldn't see it by himself. But he was the parent now. Teenagers don't really want their parents around when going to the movies as a group.
"Hey dad," I said, "Ya wanna go see it?"
He seemed a little surprised. He hesitated, knowing how his place had changed, but said, "Well, yes, I'd love to."
"Okay, we'll go. Tomorrow night. Just you and me."
"Terrific," he said turning away so I couldn't see him smiling from ear to ear.
The next night we waited on line for two hours to see Jaws. And this time it was my pleasure to take my father to the movies. My pleasure.
email me at cinemanut@comcast.net
