Relevant elements: Cinderella storyline, Julia Roberts as a bankable leading lady, closing a jewelry box on someone's fingers
Why it resonated: People like romantic stories about people from different worlds, and Richard Gere's character is like an early 1990s version of Gordon Gekko who is sensitive enough to realize that greed isn't enough
General comments on the film: People kept telling me I would hate this movie, but my reaction was more of a shrug and some eye-rolling than apoplexy. Don't get me wrong--it's not a fine piece of filmmaking, as shown by the artless exposition of the opening scene that rushes us through the basics of Gere's character by having people at the party directly talk about what he's like, followed by not one pop-song-as-substitute-for-character-development during the opening credits but two. But none of the film's shallowness really irked me, since it's clear that the movie puts all of its eggs in the chemistry of the leads, to the point that complaining about the Disneyfied view of prostitutes and drug addicts ("You stole our rent money for drugs AGAIN? Oh, you're such a rascal! Hee hee!") feels petty. We're asked to judge the film solely on whether we like Roberts and Gere, and everything else is just incidental.
Based on that criterion, the film is a mild success, since I ended up not hating two actors I tend to dislike strongly. Roberts in particular only shows flashes of the annoying habits she would later develop, which made me wonder whether she should have just stuck to this kind of role. Gere pretty much did stick to the smug rich guy archetype, but he seems well-suited to it. Putting oneself back in the 1990 mindset, which is easy when there are Bo Jackson Nike ads and yellow Walkmen in the background, it's not too hard to fathom why this movie pleased so many people despite its lame writing ("We both screw people for money") and lazy filmmaking.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #10: Dead Poets Society
Relevant elements: "O Captain, My Captain" and all that other inspiring teacher stuff
Why it resonated: Because it's always cool to reject conformity, man
General comments on the film: It wasn't until I started watching this film that I realized how little I knew about it. I was aware that Robin Williams played an English teacher in a prep school, but that was about it, so it was fun to have some moments of surprise and recognition: Ethan Hawke! The dad from That '70s Show! Lara Flynn Boyle? The film even quickly helped me figure out what year it was set in with a handy expositional speech that informed me that 1859 was one hundred years ago.
I know that as an English professor I'm supposed to identify with Robin Williams's character and all, but his taste in literature is so cliche and his apparent definition of poetry is of the "deep feelings" school that pretty much ignores the fact that poetry is made of words, not emotions. Lathering up buttoned-down teenagers with Romanticism is hardly difficult, or worthwhile for that matter. Not to sound like a wet blanket, but did those students actually learn anything about literature? I'd hate to see their standardized test scores, and if you asked them to write an analytical essay you would probably get back a bad open-mic poetry slam doodle about how they feel about the boxes society tries to force them into with its exams and formal essays.
While we're at it, let's take a look at the conflict in this movie. These privileged young men are totally bummed that their parents want them to be lawyers and doctors and go to good colleges and stuff. That's the worst-case scenario for them: they have to be wealthy professionals. I know it's tough to be bound by other people's ideas of what you should be and do, but I imagine there might be a lot of people in 1959 America who would trade problems with these rich white people. And by the way, playing Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream is pretty much the lamest act of rebellion I've ever seen.
I remember people being really inspired by this film, especially the desk-standing, Whitman-spouting final scene, but I don't really get it. Maybe you had to be there. The dated feel (not just because it's set in 1959) and the cinematographer's love of whirling didn't help. But it's possible I'm just peeved because the curriculum excludes Eliot, Auden, or any other poet of the first half of the twentieth century.
Why it resonated: Because it's always cool to reject conformity, man
General comments on the film: It wasn't until I started watching this film that I realized how little I knew about it. I was aware that Robin Williams played an English teacher in a prep school, but that was about it, so it was fun to have some moments of surprise and recognition: Ethan Hawke! The dad from That '70s Show! Lara Flynn Boyle? The film even quickly helped me figure out what year it was set in with a handy expositional speech that informed me that 1859 was one hundred years ago.
I know that as an English professor I'm supposed to identify with Robin Williams's character and all, but his taste in literature is so cliche and his apparent definition of poetry is of the "deep feelings" school that pretty much ignores the fact that poetry is made of words, not emotions. Lathering up buttoned-down teenagers with Romanticism is hardly difficult, or worthwhile for that matter. Not to sound like a wet blanket, but did those students actually learn anything about literature? I'd hate to see their standardized test scores, and if you asked them to write an analytical essay you would probably get back a bad open-mic poetry slam doodle about how they feel about the boxes society tries to force them into with its exams and formal essays.
While we're at it, let's take a look at the conflict in this movie. These privileged young men are totally bummed that their parents want them to be lawyers and doctors and go to good colleges and stuff. That's the worst-case scenario for them: they have to be wealthy professionals. I know it's tough to be bound by other people's ideas of what you should be and do, but I imagine there might be a lot of people in 1959 America who would trade problems with these rich white people. And by the way, playing Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream is pretty much the lamest act of rebellion I've ever seen.
I remember people being really inspired by this film, especially the desk-standing, Whitman-spouting final scene, but I don't really get it. Maybe you had to be there. The dated feel (not just because it's set in 1959) and the cinematographer's love of whirling didn't help. But it's possible I'm just peeved because the curriculum excludes Eliot, Auden, or any other poet of the first half of the twentieth century.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #9: Footloose
Relevant elements: The music, Kevin Bacon really breaking out, the idea of a repressive town outlawing whatever it is the kids like these days
Why it resonated: I'd guess it was the music and overall energy
General comments on the film: The biggest surprise to me was just how small the stakes really were in this film. I knew the basic premise going in--city boy comes to a small town and ruffles feathers with his desire to dance--but I thought there would be a huge and life-threatening confrontation looming. Instead, the inspirational moment comes in a town council meeting (!?) when the young protagonist makes a Bible-quoting speech, except he has already lost in his attempt to overturn the ban on dancing. That is not the grandest battle ever filmed, especially since the loss is kind of moot anyway, as they just move the dance they're planning so it's a few feet past the township line. Even John Lithgow's stodgy reverend ends up being a fairly reasonable guy who stops people from burning books and is persuaded by gentle explanations that teenagers will do bad things whether or not you let them dance. How do you not let Lithgow breathe fire and chew scenery? Nobody ever wants a reasonable Lithgow.
And so we get the triumphant climax of the film: a bunch of yokels have a school dance...in a blizzard of glitter. That brings me to the most redeeming quality of this film: its unintentionally enjoyable goofiness. First off, what kind of a name is Ren? Also, the teenage deathwish scenes are just laughable, and the apparent epitome of the pernicious effects of rock music on youths is "Dancing in the Sheets"? And what about the classic and unexplainable scenes like Ren and his buddy laying out some exposition for us while practicing a high bar routine or Ren getting so angry at the town's narrowness that he just has to drive to a warehouse and dance it out (with a little more high bar action for good measure). The "romance" storyline is just as perplexing, as seen in one sequence in which Ren comforts Ariel after her boyfriend pummels her, only to chastise her for turning his fight into her own act of rebellion against her father, to which she responds by giving him a wooden music box and insisting that they finally kiss.
I must admit that the soundtrack is striking. It's basically like someone pressed the "scan" button on 1984. I had no idea that most of these songs were in this movie, except of course the title track, which popped up enough times that I started flashing back to "Moon River" in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Even the musical element seemed a bit odd to me, though, because the people in the town don't dress like they're from the '80s, and they seem equally enthusiastic about every song they hear, regardless of the widely divergent genres offered. In the end, I suppose the idea is that no matter what kind of music and no matter what people do to oppose it, the rhythm is gonna get you. And make you find the nearest industrial building in which to cavort.
Why it resonated: I'd guess it was the music and overall energy
General comments on the film: The biggest surprise to me was just how small the stakes really were in this film. I knew the basic premise going in--city boy comes to a small town and ruffles feathers with his desire to dance--but I thought there would be a huge and life-threatening confrontation looming. Instead, the inspirational moment comes in a town council meeting (!?) when the young protagonist makes a Bible-quoting speech, except he has already lost in his attempt to overturn the ban on dancing. That is not the grandest battle ever filmed, especially since the loss is kind of moot anyway, as they just move the dance they're planning so it's a few feet past the township line. Even John Lithgow's stodgy reverend ends up being a fairly reasonable guy who stops people from burning books and is persuaded by gentle explanations that teenagers will do bad things whether or not you let them dance. How do you not let Lithgow breathe fire and chew scenery? Nobody ever wants a reasonable Lithgow.
And so we get the triumphant climax of the film: a bunch of yokels have a school dance...in a blizzard of glitter. That brings me to the most redeeming quality of this film: its unintentionally enjoyable goofiness. First off, what kind of a name is Ren? Also, the teenage deathwish scenes are just laughable, and the apparent epitome of the pernicious effects of rock music on youths is "Dancing in the Sheets"? And what about the classic and unexplainable scenes like Ren and his buddy laying out some exposition for us while practicing a high bar routine or Ren getting so angry at the town's narrowness that he just has to drive to a warehouse and dance it out (with a little more high bar action for good measure). The "romance" storyline is just as perplexing, as seen in one sequence in which Ren comforts Ariel after her boyfriend pummels her, only to chastise her for turning his fight into her own act of rebellion against her father, to which she responds by giving him a wooden music box and insisting that they finally kiss.
I must admit that the soundtrack is striking. It's basically like someone pressed the "scan" button on 1984. I had no idea that most of these songs were in this movie, except of course the title track, which popped up enough times that I started flashing back to "Moon River" in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Even the musical element seemed a bit odd to me, though, because the people in the town don't dress like they're from the '80s, and they seem equally enthusiastic about every song they hear, regardless of the widely divergent genres offered. In the end, I suppose the idea is that no matter what kind of music and no matter what people do to oppose it, the rhythm is gonna get you. And make you find the nearest industrial building in which to cavort.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #8: Breakfast at Tiffany's
Why it resonated: The main character's free-spirited self-invention captured the cultural moment of the early 1960s
General comments on the film: Of all the films on my list, I might have had the worst grip on what the movie was actually about for this one. I haven't seen Titanic, but I know the main plot points. The same goes for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and just about every other remaining film. But as I sat down to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's, I realized I had no clear idea of the scenario, plot, or characters. The only preconceptions I had were the iconic image of Audrey Hepburn in a black dress with pearls, a dramatic updo, and a cigarette holder, and the knowledge that Mickey Rooney played an offensive Asian stereotype. Although I'd heard Deep Blue Something's pop song of the same name about three billion times, that tune doesn't actually provide any details about the film other than the fact that the people in the song "both kinda liked it."
Imagine my surprise when a host of recognizable actors' names popped up in the credits: George Peppard, Patricia Neal, Buddy Ebsen.... And "Moon River" was from this movie! Why didn't I know more about this? As for the plot, it turns out to be a fairly recognizable, if implausible, masterplot: young country girl escapes her restrictive and boring existence by running away to the big city and taking on a sophisticated persona. Throw in a struggling writer straight man, and the formula is complete.
The details, however, are what make this movie striking. The fashion, dialogue, and overall atmosphere of the burgeoning "swinging '60s" feel just right to capture the cultural moment. I kept imagining the creators of Mad Men pausing the DVD to scribble down visual details. Actually, you could say that this film chimes with that series in an important way, as Don Draper's identity switch echoes that of Holly Golightly pretty loudly.
I wish that some version of "Moon River" didn't play every ten minutes (--speaking of not really knowing much detail about something coming in, I'd never really listened past the first line of that song, so can somebody tell me what the heck a "huckleberry friend" is?), and the looking-for-the-cat-in-the-rain romantic ending was cheap and undercut the impact of the narrative, but overall I have to say that I kinda liked the film, too.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Cultural Gap Film #7: Home Alone
Relevant elements: Macaulay Culkin being precocious, particularly when he slaps on aftershave and yells
Why it resonated: How could America say no to a holiday family film by John Hughes that showcases the most promising child actor of his generation?
General comments on the film: Maybe it's just Festivus sentimentality, but this movie annoyed me much less than I expected. Because I didn't see it when it came out, I never really got the full Macaulay Culkin experience. In my world, he went straight from Uncle Buck to being an object of gleeful scorn because of his over-cuteness and notoriously difficult behavior, to the point that audiences cheered when he plummeted to his death in The Good Son. I knew this film put him on the map, but the subsequent criticism of Culkin and endless unfunny allusions to the above-mentioned face-slap-and-yell tainted my perception of Home Alone, making me think his performance would be obnoxious and overly child-performer-y. It also didn't help that I knew Joe Pesci was involved, since he sets my teeth on edge in most appearances.
In retrospect, I should have trusted John Hughes more. Yes, there was a little too much direct-to-camera mugging, but Hughes is not one to let too much sugar pile up without a touch of down-to-earth sourness to balance it out. I'm still a little confused about why Kevin's family are so mean-spirited toward him, but the Hughesian suburban Chicago setting was so comfortingly familiar that such quibbles didn't linger very long.
This is by no means a masterpiece of filmmaking, but it's highly professional and perfectly pitched for a broad audience looking for something to put on in the background as they put up holiday decorations. And it makes me wonder what other films I might be misguidedly avoiding....
Why it resonated: How could America say no to a holiday family film by John Hughes that showcases the most promising child actor of his generation?
General comments on the film: Maybe it's just Festivus sentimentality, but this movie annoyed me much less than I expected. Because I didn't see it when it came out, I never really got the full Macaulay Culkin experience. In my world, he went straight from Uncle Buck to being an object of gleeful scorn because of his over-cuteness and notoriously difficult behavior, to the point that audiences cheered when he plummeted to his death in The Good Son. I knew this film put him on the map, but the subsequent criticism of Culkin and endless unfunny allusions to the above-mentioned face-slap-and-yell tainted my perception of Home Alone, making me think his performance would be obnoxious and overly child-performer-y. It also didn't help that I knew Joe Pesci was involved, since he sets my teeth on edge in most appearances.
In retrospect, I should have trusted John Hughes more. Yes, there was a little too much direct-to-camera mugging, but Hughes is not one to let too much sugar pile up without a touch of down-to-earth sourness to balance it out. I'm still a little confused about why Kevin's family are so mean-spirited toward him, but the Hughesian suburban Chicago setting was so comfortingly familiar that such quibbles didn't linger very long.
This is by no means a masterpiece of filmmaking, but it's highly professional and perfectly pitched for a broad audience looking for something to put on in the background as they put up holiday decorations. And it makes me wonder what other films I might be misguidedly avoiding....
Friday, December 17, 2010
Cultural Gap Film #6: Twilight
Relevant elements: Teen vampire melodrama
Why it resonated: Who can say why vampires become a trend every 10 years? There's always been something vaguely adolescent about vampire fascination, what with the moodiness, swells of sensuality, and so on, but for some reason this iteration spoke unusually deafeningly to the current generation of teenagers.
General comments on the film: This is the first of these films I've watched that honestly felt like a waste of time. I didn't really learn anything from the experience that I didn't already know about the film or its impact on our culture.
Going into it, I expected a fairly badly made movie, and in that sense Twilight was not a disappointment. Just about every element is handled poorly: the pacing drags, the acting is lifeless, the exposition is clumsy, the voiceover narration is spotty and artless, the story is unoriginal, the cinematography is distractingly ham-handed (just watch the "You're a vampire" scene in the forest for an example).... I could go on and on. Actually, I think I will. Here are two of the countless "Really?" moments: the benign vampire family playing baseball in the woods in a thunderstorm (?!?!) and the tone-deaf closing scene with the lone remaining "bad" vampire walking toward our lovestruck heroes at their prom to the wholly mismatched Radiohead song "15 Step." Even the closing credits don't strike the right note.
But enough complaints about what is--I'm sorry, I can't stop. Why is the world so blue-tinted? Why is everyone--not just the vampires--so inhumanly pale? Why does there seem to be only one teacher in the high school, why is he so incredibly excited about biology, and why aren't the students rolling their eyes at him incessantly? Isn't it enough that there are vampires in this world? Do they have to be telepathic and clairvoyant as well? Why not just let them travel through time and breathe fire? Did Bella really need to do internet research to find out what a vampire is? And finally, has there ever been a more deliciously spot-on description than Nathan Rabin labeling Kristen Stewart a "dead-eyed talent vacuum"?
OK. I think I'm done. But just in case that paragraph didn't suck out all the venom and stop me from turning into a blood-lusting monster (yet another cliched plot point in the film), let me end this quickly by saying to any of you who haven't seen this movie that it is exactly what you think it is.
Why it resonated: Who can say why vampires become a trend every 10 years? There's always been something vaguely adolescent about vampire fascination, what with the moodiness, swells of sensuality, and so on, but for some reason this iteration spoke unusually deafeningly to the current generation of teenagers.
General comments on the film: This is the first of these films I've watched that honestly felt like a waste of time. I didn't really learn anything from the experience that I didn't already know about the film or its impact on our culture.
Going into it, I expected a fairly badly made movie, and in that sense Twilight was not a disappointment. Just about every element is handled poorly: the pacing drags, the acting is lifeless, the exposition is clumsy, the voiceover narration is spotty and artless, the story is unoriginal, the cinematography is distractingly ham-handed (just watch the "You're a vampire" scene in the forest for an example).... I could go on and on. Actually, I think I will. Here are two of the countless "Really?" moments: the benign vampire family playing baseball in the woods in a thunderstorm (?!?!) and the tone-deaf closing scene with the lone remaining "bad" vampire walking toward our lovestruck heroes at their prom to the wholly mismatched Radiohead song "15 Step." Even the closing credits don't strike the right note.
But enough complaints about what is--I'm sorry, I can't stop. Why is the world so blue-tinted? Why is everyone--not just the vampires--so inhumanly pale? Why does there seem to be only one teacher in the high school, why is he so incredibly excited about biology, and why aren't the students rolling their eyes at him incessantly? Isn't it enough that there are vampires in this world? Do they have to be telepathic and clairvoyant as well? Why not just let them travel through time and breathe fire? Did Bella really need to do internet research to find out what a vampire is? And finally, has there ever been a more deliciously spot-on description than Nathan Rabin labeling Kristen Stewart a "dead-eyed talent vacuum"?
OK. I think I'm done. But just in case that paragraph didn't suck out all the venom and stop me from turning into a blood-lusting monster (yet another cliched plot point in the film), let me end this quickly by saying to any of you who haven't seen this movie that it is exactly what you think it is.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Cultural Gap Film #5: Saving Private Ryan
Relevant element: Standard-bearer for the Spielberg-Hanks project of re-envisioning World War II
Why it resonated: The 1990s saw a surge of interest in mainstream retrospectives about WWII, epitomized by a few prominent films and Tom Brokaw's paean to "The Greatest Generation." Why this cultural wave swelled at that time is a question for another day, but the result is that for an ever-increasing percentage of the American population, their vision of the war is significantly defined by historical films--especially this one, thanks to its graphic depiction of battle and Spielberg's usual emotional manipulation.
General comments on the film: I've been avoiding this film because I have a fairly strong allergic reaction to unmitigated earnestness and non-nuanced sentimentality, which are hallmarks of Stephen Spielberg's directorial style. So when the movie opened with a proudly fluttering American flag and an aged veteran leading his family into a seemingly endless and perfectly manicured cemetery, let's just say I was not heartened.
At times, however, another of Spielberg's hallmarks--his consummate craftsmanship--distracted me long enough to let my inflammation subside. For every two overdone elements (like the Ryan homestead in Iowa being the picturesque living embodiment of the American heartland) there is a finely shot piece of visual storytelling as an antidote. The Normandy invasion scene is a nice example of this balance: moments like a soldier's helmet saving him from a bullet, followed by him taking it off to marvel at it and being shot in the head feel gratuitous to the point of verging on slapstick, but the cinematography is spectacular. All in all, I'm glad I finally watched this film, but I don't think I'll ever see it again.
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