Relevant elements: Too many to list
Why it resonated: It's a family-friendly Rodgers and Hammerstein musical set in a striking location with a touch of historical drama
General comments on the film: Here it is: the film that kicked off this whole enterprise. For whatever reason, The Sound of Music has become associated with Easter, and I was able to take advantage of the film being shown on ABC Family this weekend. I only bring up the manner of viewing because it raises a point about the essential nature of the film and perhaps why I hadn't seen it.
This is a family movie, which means that for a male film consumer, there is a substantial blackout window for it. If a person somehow is not exposed to it as a young child, the odds of viewing it collapse to near zero from the tween years through at least young adulthood. Since my parents and my sister never insisted on The Sound of Music as a family viewing selection during my childhood, I entered into that span in which it was not likely to be something I would seek out. Given a choice, I imagine most young men would opt for Pulp Fiction rather than any family film, let alone one with a reputation for wholesomeness above all else. Unless and until there are children around to be shown such a movie, there isn't much of an impetus for its viewing, and the circumstances of my family were such that there weren't many younger relatives about once I entered the blackout period, leaving the film a cultural gap that I am only now filling out of intellectual curiosity.
So I went into this viewing experience honestly wondering how much the popularity of The Sound of Music was a self-perpetuating phenomenon set into motion by the Baby Boomers. Because it was released in 1965, it is a film that would have been pretty much mandatory viewing for the Sally Drapers of the world (my new figurehead for that generation). And because it was one of the last major films before the seismic shift into more provocative filmmaking--1966 being the year when movies like Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? raised industry-changing deliberations about "adult" films, and coincidentally the year Walt Disney died--it can be seen as the final great "movie for all audiences" before the moviegoing public began substantially segmenting when films like Bonnie and Clyde, The Graduate, and Easy Rider arrived. In other words, The Sound of Music came at the end of the true era of culturally relevant films--movies that literally almost everyone who watched movies would have seen. Today, a film like Avatar would be considered a massively popular movie, and a lot of people have seen it, but because there are so many other films to be seen and the marketplace is so fragmented, there are also a lot of moviegoing folks who haven't seen it, including me.
All of that made me consider the possibility that the reason The Sound of Music has persisted so strongly in our culture is not just its own merit but its historical situation. Baby Boomers have greatly determined the course of American popular culture over the past fifty years, so a film that was pitched directly at them when it was released would have an inordinately powerful cultural position. As a treasured part of their youth, they would be likely to champion it going forward and make sure that successive generations saw it. The fact that it is a family film only intensifies the likelihood of such a movie surviving, since children are less likely to judge a film on its actual quality. Baby Boomers would make an important item of their childhoods an important part of their children's childhoods, and so on. The persistence of truly terrible children's movies supports this theory, as I have seen some of my peers revel in making their children watch things they freely admit are terrible just because they fondly remember watching them as children. Such a lack of quality control in family films led me to be apprehensive about The Sound of Music. How much of its popularity derives from its previous popularity? In other words, if it were released for the first time today, what would be its chances of survival?
As it turns out, I think The Sound of Music hasn't been coasting on Baby Boomer cred. That's not to say that I enjoyed it, because frankly I didn't enjoy it much at all. But how much I like a film has never been an important consideration during this project. My goal has always been to better understand the culture in which I partake by examining the fittest specimens--the items that have survived and become essential to the culture's sense of itself. The Sound of Music is not really to my taste, but it does have qualities that I think would have appeal for successive generations of people. Pre-ironic viewers (i.e. children) would likely have no problem with its corny nature, and the bones of the story encourage young viewers to put themselves in the position of the von Trapp kids. Children would also be less likely to share my annoyance at the repetition of songs, particularly in the second half of the film.
Speaking of the songs, I found myself constantly surprised at my simultaneous familiarity and lack of familiarity with the movie's soundtrack. For nearly every song, I realized that I had heard the first ten seconds about a million times, but had never heard past those opening lines. It's the same experience I've had with songs included on those compilation albums that used to be advertised in heavy rotation on television. The commercials would play short clips of several songs, so today I am intensely aware of those snippets, but if I hear another part of the tune, I often won't recognize that it's the same song because I've never heard the whole thing.
That actually sums up my experience of the movie as a whole, since I already knew the outlines of just about everything in the film. Watching it just filled in details, some of which I could have done without, such as the creepily hallucinogenic yodeling goat puppet show. But now at least I have viewed this iconic film, and will never again have to hear an incredulous "You've never seen The Sound of Music???" aimed at me.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Cultural Gap Film #22: Titanic
Relevant elements: The "king of the world" moment, "My Heart Will Go On," the necklace, the nude sketch, the handprint on the steamy car window, the ship sinking and all
Why it resonated: People like big things, I guess. Also, the discovery of the wreckage helped reignite interest in the event in the ten years preceding the film.
General comments on the film: Does any director have less trust in an audience than James Cameron? Everything needs to be spelled out in clankingly overt detail, from lingering shots of poor children whose parents explain to them that they will be saved after the wealthy folks have their turn to unlikely innocent small talk with the ship's designer about the lack of adequate lifeboats to groaners like the paintings by "something Picasso" to Billy Zane's outrageously overdone eyeliner.
A grad school professor of mine once asked a student who was disputing a poor grade to show him where in the essay there was an idea. When the student pointed to something, the professor said, "That's not an idea--it's a damn cliche." I thought of that statement as I watched this movie and waited for something original to make me pay attention or care about the characters, but it felt too much like cardboard cutouts moving around in a painstakingly crafted dollhouse/ship that its creator couldn't wait to smash to bits. No amount of Irish-tinged music or indomitability from elderly women can make me empathize with poorly-drawn mannequins, even as they meet their inevitable icy fate.
Given my lack of engagement with the goings-on, the lengthy runtime felt even longer, but at least I was only subjected to Bill Paxton's accent and earring for a small portion of the film. Another silver lining is that I now have only one movie left from my original list--the one that started it all, The Sound of Music. As soon as I can get my hands on it, I will view that classic and write the final entry for this series. Sorry it's taken so long....
Why it resonated: People like big things, I guess. Also, the discovery of the wreckage helped reignite interest in the event in the ten years preceding the film.
General comments on the film: Does any director have less trust in an audience than James Cameron? Everything needs to be spelled out in clankingly overt detail, from lingering shots of poor children whose parents explain to them that they will be saved after the wealthy folks have their turn to unlikely innocent small talk with the ship's designer about the lack of adequate lifeboats to groaners like the paintings by "something Picasso" to Billy Zane's outrageously overdone eyeliner.
A grad school professor of mine once asked a student who was disputing a poor grade to show him where in the essay there was an idea. When the student pointed to something, the professor said, "That's not an idea--it's a damn cliche." I thought of that statement as I watched this movie and waited for something original to make me pay attention or care about the characters, but it felt too much like cardboard cutouts moving around in a painstakingly crafted dollhouse/ship that its creator couldn't wait to smash to bits. No amount of Irish-tinged music or indomitability from elderly women can make me empathize with poorly-drawn mannequins, even as they meet their inevitable icy fate.
Given my lack of engagement with the goings-on, the lengthy runtime felt even longer, but at least I was only subjected to Bill Paxton's accent and earring for a small portion of the film. Another silver lining is that I now have only one movie left from my original list--the one that started it all, The Sound of Music. As soon as I can get my hands on it, I will view that classic and write the final entry for this series. Sorry it's taken so long....
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #21: Guess Who's Coming to Dinner
Relevant elements: Interracial marriage, the trope of a child bringing home someone surprising to meet the folks
Why it resonated: Took on racial and generational issues that were roiling in the 1960s
General comments on the film: You can complain that it's too talky. You can marvel at the prescience of a white woman meeting a black man in Hawaii and dreaming that their child would become the President of the United States. You can question the probability of the existence of such a jolly, socially progressive monsignor. You can feel sorry for Katharine Houghton as she is doomed to be the dimmest presence on the screen, obliterated by the waves of charisma emanating from Katharine Hepburn, Spencer Tracy, and Sidney Poitier. You can even be a little annoyed at yet another pervasive song being played in pretty much every scene (this time "The Glory of Love"-- the one that Bette Midler's character brassily oversings throughout Beaches, not the Peter Cetera one featured in Karate Kid II). But it's hard not to feel stirred by the film's passionate argument for the importance of peace, love, and understanding.
Why it resonated: Took on racial and generational issues that were roiling in the 1960s
General comments on the film: You can complain that it's too talky. You can marvel at the prescience of a white woman meeting a black man in Hawaii and dreaming that their child would become the President of the United States. You can question the probability of the existence of such a jolly, socially progressive monsignor. You can feel sorry for Katharine Houghton as she is doomed to be the dimmest presence on the screen, obliterated by the waves of charisma emanating from Katharine Hepburn, Spencer Tracy, and Sidney Poitier. You can even be a little annoyed at yet another pervasive song being played in pretty much every scene (this time "The Glory of Love"-- the one that Bette Midler's character brassily oversings throughout Beaches, not the Peter Cetera one featured in Karate Kid II). But it's hard not to feel stirred by the film's passionate argument for the importance of peace, love, and understanding.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #20: Love Story
Relevant elements: "Love means never having to say you're sorry"
Why it resonated: "Boy meets girl, boy rejects privileged family when they reject girl, boy and girl get married and scratch their way to a good life, girl dies of an unspecified disease" is timeless
General comments on the film: There's a lot to commend this movie beyond its admittedly poignant tear-jerking ability. Its efficiency echoes the simplicity of its title, moving through the courtship, marriage, and death with little exposition or narrative fat. That means it relies pretty heavily on the leads, and although I sometimes found Ali MacGraw's character off-putting, the film makes you believe in the young couple even though the opening voice-over has already told you the tragic end of the story.
It also remains cinematically interesting in a way that I didn't expect. The mobility of the camera, particularly in the early days of the relationship, lends a sense of handheld verisimilitude, as though these are home movies. But the really noticeable element is the sound design. The lovely piano score underpins much of the movie without being as obtrusive as some other themes I've encountered during this series (see Breakfast at Tiffany's), and there are several unconventional uses of sound, such as an entire scene in which we hear a flirty back-and-forth between our young lovers but the visual is just a discreet slow zoom on the exterior of a Harvard dorm. Throughout the film, sound is used in expressive ways without feeling overly gimmicky and distracting from the romance at its heart.
One parting observation: Here we have another Harvard-based movie with the line "It's not your fault" near the end. It almost makes me want to re-watch the last ten minutes of The Social Network and With Honors to make sure it's not some running inside joke.
Why it resonated: "Boy meets girl, boy rejects privileged family when they reject girl, boy and girl get married and scratch their way to a good life, girl dies of an unspecified disease" is timeless
General comments on the film: There's a lot to commend this movie beyond its admittedly poignant tear-jerking ability. Its efficiency echoes the simplicity of its title, moving through the courtship, marriage, and death with little exposition or narrative fat. That means it relies pretty heavily on the leads, and although I sometimes found Ali MacGraw's character off-putting, the film makes you believe in the young couple even though the opening voice-over has already told you the tragic end of the story.
It also remains cinematically interesting in a way that I didn't expect. The mobility of the camera, particularly in the early days of the relationship, lends a sense of handheld verisimilitude, as though these are home movies. But the really noticeable element is the sound design. The lovely piano score underpins much of the movie without being as obtrusive as some other themes I've encountered during this series (see Breakfast at Tiffany's), and there are several unconventional uses of sound, such as an entire scene in which we hear a flirty back-and-forth between our young lovers but the visual is just a discreet slow zoom on the exterior of a Harvard dorm. Throughout the film, sound is used in expressive ways without feeling overly gimmicky and distracting from the romance at its heart.
One parting observation: Here we have another Harvard-based movie with the line "It's not your fault" near the end. It almost makes me want to re-watch the last ten minutes of The Social Network and With Honors to make sure it's not some running inside joke.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #19: Rudy
Relevant elements: Scrappy underdog inspires everyone around him, "RU-DY! RU-DY! RU-DY!"
Why it resonated: The American public always likes inspirational sports movies, and there's a built-in Notre Dame fan base
General comments on the film: As faithful readers might have noticed, I have somewhat of an allergic reaction to overly earnest films that try way too hard to inspire the audience. That, of course, didn't bode well for this movie, and in fact was probably the reason I'd avoided it until now.
In that sense, the film didn't disappoint. It plucks every formulaic schmaltz string: underdog blue-collar kid with no support for his dream whose best friend dies but he never gives up.... More than just seeming to have been written by a script machine, though, Rudy actually focuses so hard on its story that it becomes enjoyably disturbing.
It takes a demented pleasure in beating down its protagonist for much of the movie, with family members, girlfriends, priests, student activities leaders, groundskeepers, coaches, and just about anyone else who comes across his path repeatedly telling him things like "You're too small," "Not everyone is meant to go to college," and so on. Only one person doesn't try to crush his dream, and that guy predictably dies in a steel mill explosion. It's like the scene in Airplane! when people are lined up to take a whack at the hysterical woman--everyone delights in stomping on Rudy to the point that it becomes absurd. So if you like watching Sean Astin get kicked in the head, sometimes literally, the first 90 minutes are a dream for you.
One might think that all this adversity would make Rudy a sympathetic character, but unless you accept the premise that Notre Dame is heaven on earth, his behavior comes off as pretty much psychopathic. He ditches his doting girlfriend, quits his job, goes directly from his friend's funeral to Notre Dame's campus at dawn and demands to speak to someone who will let him go there, lies, scams, forces his way into the head coach's office, and commits multiple counts of breaking and entering, all so he can get his father to validate his existence by being on the field for two plays of college football. The film provides a few epilogue sentences to give a sense of the aftermath, but I couldn't help feeling like Rudy woke up the day after his triumph and thought, "What do I do with my life now?"
As for the sports part of the movie, I'd like to point out that his team, up two scores with under 20 seconds left in the game, runs a halfback pass to score a touchdown just to get the defense back on the field to let what is essentially their mascot get to play. Let's just say that if Georgia Tech didn't file a grievance with the NCAA about Notre Dame's sportsmanship, I'd be glad to do so on their behalf.
Why it resonated: The American public always likes inspirational sports movies, and there's a built-in Notre Dame fan base
General comments on the film: As faithful readers might have noticed, I have somewhat of an allergic reaction to overly earnest films that try way too hard to inspire the audience. That, of course, didn't bode well for this movie, and in fact was probably the reason I'd avoided it until now.
In that sense, the film didn't disappoint. It plucks every formulaic schmaltz string: underdog blue-collar kid with no support for his dream whose best friend dies but he never gives up.... More than just seeming to have been written by a script machine, though, Rudy actually focuses so hard on its story that it becomes enjoyably disturbing.
It takes a demented pleasure in beating down its protagonist for much of the movie, with family members, girlfriends, priests, student activities leaders, groundskeepers, coaches, and just about anyone else who comes across his path repeatedly telling him things like "You're too small," "Not everyone is meant to go to college," and so on. Only one person doesn't try to crush his dream, and that guy predictably dies in a steel mill explosion. It's like the scene in Airplane! when people are lined up to take a whack at the hysterical woman--everyone delights in stomping on Rudy to the point that it becomes absurd. So if you like watching Sean Astin get kicked in the head, sometimes literally, the first 90 minutes are a dream for you.
One might think that all this adversity would make Rudy a sympathetic character, but unless you accept the premise that Notre Dame is heaven on earth, his behavior comes off as pretty much psychopathic. He ditches his doting girlfriend, quits his job, goes directly from his friend's funeral to Notre Dame's campus at dawn and demands to speak to someone who will let him go there, lies, scams, forces his way into the head coach's office, and commits multiple counts of breaking and entering, all so he can get his father to validate his existence by being on the field for two plays of college football. The film provides a few epilogue sentences to give a sense of the aftermath, but I couldn't help feeling like Rudy woke up the day after his triumph and thought, "What do I do with my life now?"
As for the sports part of the movie, I'd like to point out that his team, up two scores with under 20 seconds left in the game, runs a halfback pass to score a touchdown just to get the defense back on the field to let what is essentially their mascot get to play. Let's just say that if Georgia Tech didn't file a grievance with the NCAA about Notre Dame's sportsmanship, I'd be glad to do so on their behalf.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #18: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Relevant elements: Depiction of a mental health facility, the steely Nurse Ratched, the gentle giant Chief
Why it resonated: It's hard for me to say, but I'd guess it was the combination of the existing popularity of Ken Kesey's novel and the 1970s-friendly anti-authoritarian theme, not to mention Jack Nicholson's usual aura of intensity
General comments on the film: I suppose it's a testament to the cultural relevance of this film that watching it for the first time yielded virtually no surprises. It went pretty much exactly as I thought it would, right down to the ending.
Having said that, it's a good example of early-to-mid-1970s filmmaking, with its shadowy cinematography, measured pacing, and focus on establishing character. Milos Forman's films have never really hit me where I live (since we seem to have somewhat different views of humanity), but the man has a type and he knows how to develop it. The use of overlapping dialogue, abrupt shifts in pitch and volume, and believable non-rational behavior creates a distinctive tone, and the very sparse use of music makes the final scene, with its swelling score, really pop.
There were some casting surprises, for me, I should add. I wasn't expecting Danny DeVito or Vincent Schiavelli. It would have been nice, though, to have seen this before 1989's The Dream Team, since Christopher Lloyd's presence as a patient in both films gave me the disturbing sense of this as a prequel to that much different movie....
Why it resonated: It's hard for me to say, but I'd guess it was the combination of the existing popularity of Ken Kesey's novel and the 1970s-friendly anti-authoritarian theme, not to mention Jack Nicholson's usual aura of intensity
General comments on the film: I suppose it's a testament to the cultural relevance of this film that watching it for the first time yielded virtually no surprises. It went pretty much exactly as I thought it would, right down to the ending.
Having said that, it's a good example of early-to-mid-1970s filmmaking, with its shadowy cinematography, measured pacing, and focus on establishing character. Milos Forman's films have never really hit me where I live (since we seem to have somewhat different views of humanity), but the man has a type and he knows how to develop it. The use of overlapping dialogue, abrupt shifts in pitch and volume, and believable non-rational behavior creates a distinctive tone, and the very sparse use of music makes the final scene, with its swelling score, really pop.
There were some casting surprises, for me, I should add. I wasn't expecting Danny DeVito or Vincent Schiavelli. It would have been nice, though, to have seen this before 1989's The Dream Team, since Christopher Lloyd's presence as a patient in both films gave me the disturbing sense of this as a prequel to that much different movie....
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #17: Philadelphia
Relevant elements: Discrimination trial, the Springsteen song
Why it resonated: This was pretty much the first major-release film about AIDS
General comments on the film: I'm actually glad I'm only watching this film now. It gives me the bittersweet satisfaction of noting how dated it feels today. Much of the movie is dedicated to laying out demonstrations that gay people are human beings too, in ways that would seem grossly unnecessary and maybe even offensive today, but were probably pitched correctly in 1993.
In terms of the film itself, I just have to say that the legal elements didn't seem quite kosher (though I was tickled by the obligatory "partners sitting in leather chairs smoking cigars on the top floor" scene and even more obligatory "I'll allow it" judge), but the range of cinematographic approaches kept me interested visually and the Philly flavor (Dr. J! Ed Rendell!) made me a little homesick. Even though they gave the trademark song to a guy from Jersey....
Why it resonated: This was pretty much the first major-release film about AIDS
General comments on the film: I'm actually glad I'm only watching this film now. It gives me the bittersweet satisfaction of noting how dated it feels today. Much of the movie is dedicated to laying out demonstrations that gay people are human beings too, in ways that would seem grossly unnecessary and maybe even offensive today, but were probably pitched correctly in 1993.
In terms of the film itself, I just have to say that the legal elements didn't seem quite kosher (though I was tickled by the obligatory "partners sitting in leather chairs smoking cigars on the top floor" scene and even more obligatory "I'll allow it" judge), but the range of cinematographic approaches kept me interested visually and the Philly flavor (Dr. J! Ed Rendell!) made me a little homesick. Even though they gave the trademark song to a guy from Jersey....
Monday, April 11, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #16: Saw
Relevant elements: General torture-based plots, that creepy Jigsaw doll thing
Why it resonated: Various cultural critics have pointed to different reasons for the sharply rising interest in "torture porn" in the mid-'00s, but a lot of them seem to want to pin it on 9/11. It's also possible that America was just ready for the serial killer thriller to move in this direction after the genre had become stale and audience tolerance for depictions of physical mutilation had increased.
General comments on the film: For the number of surprises--and no, I'm not talking about the hacky plotting; I'm talking about the fact that Cary Elwes is in it, Danny Glover is in it (one might have supposed that he was too old for this), and it isn't quite as gory as I'd been led to believe--you'd think this movie would be more interesting.
There are a few solid touches for a thriller of this type: the jarring in medias res opening works fairly well, the choice of a mannequin factory for the psycho's hideout is a bit predictable, but still manages to twang that uncanny chord, and the reworking of the limited-vision bit from the end of The Silence of the Lambs using an old-fashioned photo flash as the only available light source does what it is intended to do. But it doesn't come close to overcoming the dreadful acting and parade gimmicky moments, leaving me to wonder if it would have been more compelling if the entirety of the movie took place in the room with the two men without all the conveniently-remembered flashbacks and outside drama. I guess Elwes's hammy growling and the other guy's screechy whining would quickly overflow the narrow space, though, so maybe the best thing to do would be to just present an even more extensive catalog of Jigsaw's intricate human traps...which I'm sure is what the unfathomable number of sequels provide.
Why it resonated: Various cultural critics have pointed to different reasons for the sharply rising interest in "torture porn" in the mid-'00s, but a lot of them seem to want to pin it on 9/11. It's also possible that America was just ready for the serial killer thriller to move in this direction after the genre had become stale and audience tolerance for depictions of physical mutilation had increased.
General comments on the film: For the number of surprises--and no, I'm not talking about the hacky plotting; I'm talking about the fact that Cary Elwes is in it, Danny Glover is in it (one might have supposed that he was too old for this), and it isn't quite as gory as I'd been led to believe--you'd think this movie would be more interesting.
There are a few solid touches for a thriller of this type: the jarring in medias res opening works fairly well, the choice of a mannequin factory for the psycho's hideout is a bit predictable, but still manages to twang that uncanny chord, and the reworking of the limited-vision bit from the end of The Silence of the Lambs using an old-fashioned photo flash as the only available light source does what it is intended to do. But it doesn't come close to overcoming the dreadful acting and parade gimmicky moments, leaving me to wonder if it would have been more compelling if the entirety of the movie took place in the room with the two men without all the conveniently-remembered flashbacks and outside drama. I guess Elwes's hammy growling and the other guy's screechy whining would quickly overflow the narrow space, though, so maybe the best thing to do would be to just present an even more extensive catalog of Jigsaw's intricate human traps...which I'm sure is what the unfathomable number of sequels provide.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #15: Flashdance
Relevant elements: The songs, the water-pull dance scene, a steel town girl who welds by day and dances by night
Why it resonated: MTV had primed the viewing public for flashy set pieces that fuse music and movement, and America always loves stories about hardworking people chasing their dreams
General comments on the film: Since about the one-third mark of Flashdance, I've been trying to determine if this film would have been anywhere near as successful and relevant if it were released at any other time. If it were released five years earlier, it would have been scoffed at as a weaker knock-off of Saturday Night Fever. If it were released five years later, the novelty of music video style would have been diluted to the point of no longer distracting from the movie's thin plot and characterization.
In other words, the movie screams 1983 from the opening titles onward. It also screams Pittsburgh, which makes it even more interesting that it has managed to stand as an iconic film. Since the filmmaking and storyline don't provide anything remarkable that would capture people's imaginations to that degree, it seems to me that the movie's impact is due mostly to its being a crystalization of a particular point in time that people find interesting (at least for now).
Think of the 1980s, and what comes to mind? Big hair, breakdancing, off-the-shoulder shirts worn with legwarmers, MTV, and cans of Diet Pepsi? These are the basic elements of Flashdance. The prominence of the soundtrack underlines this point, as Irene Cara's "Flashdance...What a Feeling" almost deserves top billing for all of the work it does in the film.
There are of course other movies that offer perfect snapshots of their respective times, but this one has the good fortune of encapsulating a period that garners a lot of attention even today in American culture. You might have noticed that young women today are wearing virtually the same slouchy tops that Jennifer Beals sports throughout the movie. And even people who weren't alive yet at the time have a very distinct idea of "the '80s"--more than they have a similar sense of "the '90s" despite having lived through them. 1983 has a strong flavor, and Flashdance is bursting with it.
Being tied to a time brings up the possibility that a movie will fade from the popular consciousness as its time recedes farther into the past, and I'll be curious to see what happens to this one in the next ten to twenty years. Already, its songs are being played on oldies stations, and it's hard to imagine that teenagers born after the year 2000 will choose to watch it, unless there are still '80s parties in the 2020s.
Why it resonated: MTV had primed the viewing public for flashy set pieces that fuse music and movement, and America always loves stories about hardworking people chasing their dreams
General comments on the film: Since about the one-third mark of Flashdance, I've been trying to determine if this film would have been anywhere near as successful and relevant if it were released at any other time. If it were released five years earlier, it would have been scoffed at as a weaker knock-off of Saturday Night Fever. If it were released five years later, the novelty of music video style would have been diluted to the point of no longer distracting from the movie's thin plot and characterization.
In other words, the movie screams 1983 from the opening titles onward. It also screams Pittsburgh, which makes it even more interesting that it has managed to stand as an iconic film. Since the filmmaking and storyline don't provide anything remarkable that would capture people's imaginations to that degree, it seems to me that the movie's impact is due mostly to its being a crystalization of a particular point in time that people find interesting (at least for now).
Think of the 1980s, and what comes to mind? Big hair, breakdancing, off-the-shoulder shirts worn with legwarmers, MTV, and cans of Diet Pepsi? These are the basic elements of Flashdance. The prominence of the soundtrack underlines this point, as Irene Cara's "Flashdance...What a Feeling" almost deserves top billing for all of the work it does in the film.
There are of course other movies that offer perfect snapshots of their respective times, but this one has the good fortune of encapsulating a period that garners a lot of attention even today in American culture. You might have noticed that young women today are wearing virtually the same slouchy tops that Jennifer Beals sports throughout the movie. And even people who weren't alive yet at the time have a very distinct idea of "the '80s"--more than they have a similar sense of "the '90s" despite having lived through them. 1983 has a strong flavor, and Flashdance is bursting with it.
Being tied to a time brings up the possibility that a movie will fade from the popular consciousness as its time recedes farther into the past, and I'll be curious to see what happens to this one in the next ten to twenty years. Already, its songs are being played on oldies stations, and it's hard to imagine that teenagers born after the year 2000 will choose to watch it, unless there are still '80s parties in the 2020s.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #14: My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Relevant elements: Crazy families at weddings, the phrasing "my big fat [x]"
Why it resonated: People find weddings dramatically interesting, and most people think their own families are embarrassing
General comments on the film: There's really not much to say about the artistic merits of the film, but it's worth considering how this little movie became a massive box office winner in 2002. Its comedy is broad and sitcommy, so it's not like audiences were struck by its genius, and the star power is of very low wattage--it's not like people were lining up to see John Corbett.
So how did this unremarkable work deliver one of the best returns on investment of its time? Why did it become a word-of-mouth phenomenon? There are several factors, but I think the most significant one is that the movie's depiction of a big, loud, overwhelming, and often embarrassing family during the planning and execution of a wedding appealed to people in two ways. Either they thought to themselves, "That's just like my family!" or they said, "What a zany over-the-top ethnic family! They're so different and cute!" In other words, the film courts both identification and spectacle. Leaving aside the question of stereotyping and cultural sensitivity, it presents what many "non-ethnic" people probably imagine these kinds of families are actually like. Having the hook of a wedding doesn't hurt either, especially for the target demographic of the movie.
I guess it's not surprising that interest in this kind of cultural tourism didn't have much staying power: the 2003 TV spinoff series My Big Fat Greek Life lasted only seven episodes. On the other hand, there are at the moment a handful of "My Big...Wedding" shows on television, and one could argue that the current wave of Italian/New Jersey programs are part of the legacy of this film. So...thanks?
Why it resonated: People find weddings dramatically interesting, and most people think their own families are embarrassing
General comments on the film: There's really not much to say about the artistic merits of the film, but it's worth considering how this little movie became a massive box office winner in 2002. Its comedy is broad and sitcommy, so it's not like audiences were struck by its genius, and the star power is of very low wattage--it's not like people were lining up to see John Corbett.
So how did this unremarkable work deliver one of the best returns on investment of its time? Why did it become a word-of-mouth phenomenon? There are several factors, but I think the most significant one is that the movie's depiction of a big, loud, overwhelming, and often embarrassing family during the planning and execution of a wedding appealed to people in two ways. Either they thought to themselves, "That's just like my family!" or they said, "What a zany over-the-top ethnic family! They're so different and cute!" In other words, the film courts both identification and spectacle. Leaving aside the question of stereotyping and cultural sensitivity, it presents what many "non-ethnic" people probably imagine these kinds of families are actually like. Having the hook of a wedding doesn't hurt either, especially for the target demographic of the movie.
I guess it's not surprising that interest in this kind of cultural tourism didn't have much staying power: the 2003 TV spinoff series My Big Fat Greek Life lasted only seven episodes. On the other hand, there are at the moment a handful of "My Big...Wedding" shows on television, and one could argue that the current wave of Italian/New Jersey programs are part of the legacy of this film. So...thanks?
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #13: The Great Escape
Why it resonated: Who wouldn't love to watch indomitable Allied officers try to stick it to Nazis, especially with an all-star cast of macho men?
General comments on the film: Going into this film, I only knew a few things about it: the infectiously whistleable theme song, the fact that it's about trying to escape from a Nazi POW camp, and the presence of Steve McQueen. These factors, combined with the title, led me to expect a grim but gloriously triumphant tale, but that is not what I got.
The film's nearly three-hour runtime pretty much splits into two movies: a mostly-comedy about planning the escape and an action movie about what happens after the prisoners bolt. The lightheartedness of the first half was slightly surprising, but what I really didn't see coming was how badly the whole caper would turn out in the second part. The original scheme aims for breaking 250 prisoners out of the camp to at least force the Nazis to waste manpower in recapturing them, but they only manage 76 before the machinations fall apart. Of those 76, we only see three potentially succeed in getting out of Germany, and 50 are killed. The film plays up the moral victory of momentarily escaping from what was supposed to be an un-escapable prison and causing a bit of enemy consternation, but it wouldn't be unfair to argue that it was more of a "great try" than a "great escape."
Of course, the movie is constrained by its being based on a true story, and what the prisoners manage to do is really impressive, but if it were remade today, there's no way the film would end with Steve McQueen and James Garner back in the POW camp (although they'd probably still have Donald Pleasance shot). A modern production would undoubtedly only be satisfied with the audience thinking, "Yeah! Take that, Nazis!" Instead, this film leaves you thinking, "Gee, the SS isn't very sporting, executing POWs like that rather than treating them like gentlemen officers like the Luftwaffe does."
Don't get me wrong--I'm not complaining about any of this. The lack of a riding-off-into-the-sunset conclusion by no means makes this an unsatisfying film. I was just expecting more of a victory along the lines of Victory (1981) instead of a final scene in which one of the most charismatic tough guy actors of the time ends up right where he started--locked in an isolation cell.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #12: Gone with the Wind
Relevant elements: Scarlett and Rhett, Tara, Civil War setting, making a dress out of curtains, "I don't know nothing about birthing babies," "Frankly, my dear..."
Why it resonated: The film took a wildly popular novel and applied the state of the art of filmmaking to adapting it, so it's no surprise that this became an instant classic.
General comments on the film: Several things have kept me from viewing this film until now: its four-hour runtime, my allergy to romantic visions of the Old South, a feeling that I was already familiar with the important parts of it, and so on. The only thing motivating me to watch it was guilt about skipping one of the pillars of film history, and that wasn't enough to overcome the list of cons.
Now that I've seen it, I can say that the things that made me avoid it for so long were certainly present in the film, but I was surprised in both positive and negative ways by other elements. Let me get the negatives out of the way. Even though it's a period piece, the film's gratuitous references to the antebellum code of gentility (riding in buggies in the afternoon without a chaperon is scandalous, young ladies take naps at parties, etc.) start to grate after a while, but not nearly as much as the general shrillness of the movie. And I'm not just talking about Prissy, although I quickly began to wish the collector's edition I was watching were a special version that automatically muted all of her lines. A full half of the characters seem to speak only in melodramatic shrieks and squawks, which I blame partly on the conventions of acting at the time but still find nerve-rattling.
On the other hand, it was fun to see the scale of the film's technical ambition, even when its process shots didn't quite succeed. Though it was used to the point that a third of the movie felt like it was shot in silhouette, some of the shadows-against-an-orange-sky shots were exquisite in terms of creating the perfect atmosphere. And that's to say nothing of justly famous passages like the slow crane pullback to reveal hundreds of Confederate wounded (and nearly as many obvious dummies). Despite being overstuffed with soap opera beats, especially in its last third, the film left me impressed with its ability to maintain a compelling story for such a long time, especially when compared to some of today's hit movies that gasp across the 86-minute finish line. This is a film that announces its grandeur right from the start and never lets you forget just how big it is, but while that often drags a movie down or turns it into a parody, somehow Gone with the Wind manages to bear up under its own weight, and that is no small accomplishment.
Why it resonated: The film took a wildly popular novel and applied the state of the art of filmmaking to adapting it, so it's no surprise that this became an instant classic.
General comments on the film: Several things have kept me from viewing this film until now: its four-hour runtime, my allergy to romantic visions of the Old South, a feeling that I was already familiar with the important parts of it, and so on. The only thing motivating me to watch it was guilt about skipping one of the pillars of film history, and that wasn't enough to overcome the list of cons.
Now that I've seen it, I can say that the things that made me avoid it for so long were certainly present in the film, but I was surprised in both positive and negative ways by other elements. Let me get the negatives out of the way. Even though it's a period piece, the film's gratuitous references to the antebellum code of gentility (riding in buggies in the afternoon without a chaperon is scandalous, young ladies take naps at parties, etc.) start to grate after a while, but not nearly as much as the general shrillness of the movie. And I'm not just talking about Prissy, although I quickly began to wish the collector's edition I was watching were a special version that automatically muted all of her lines. A full half of the characters seem to speak only in melodramatic shrieks and squawks, which I blame partly on the conventions of acting at the time but still find nerve-rattling.
On the other hand, it was fun to see the scale of the film's technical ambition, even when its process shots didn't quite succeed. Though it was used to the point that a third of the movie felt like it was shot in silhouette, some of the shadows-against-an-orange-sky shots were exquisite in terms of creating the perfect atmosphere. And that's to say nothing of justly famous passages like the slow crane pullback to reveal hundreds of Confederate wounded (and nearly as many obvious dummies). Despite being overstuffed with soap opera beats, especially in its last third, the film left me impressed with its ability to maintain a compelling story for such a long time, especially when compared to some of today's hit movies that gasp across the 86-minute finish line. This is a film that announces its grandeur right from the start and never lets you forget just how big it is, but while that often drags a movie down or turns it into a parody, somehow Gone with the Wind manages to bear up under its own weight, and that is no small accomplishment.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #11: Pretty Woman
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.
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 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.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Cultural Gap Film #4: Beverly Hills Cop
Relevant elements: Wisecracking loose cannon cop archetype, Eddie Murphy in his glory days
Why it resonated: Despite the role being originally intended for Sylvester Stallone (which helps explain my longtime question: Isn't Axel a strange name for an African American detective from Detroit?), this film took the already strong action/cop genre and fused it with the country's hottest comedian to help establish the formula that Jerry Bruckheimer and others would spend the next generation following to the point of exhaustion.
General comments on the film: Seeing it for the first time now, it's hard to determine exactly how much the movie is following the conventions of the genre and how much it is establishing those conventions, but in any case, it checks off nearly all of the familiar elements, right down to the plight of the poor fruit vendor during the opening car chase, during which the film seems to be trying to keep Detroit's automotive industry going by smashing gratuitously into as many huge cars as possible. For a while I thought there wasn't going to be the requisite strip club scene, but how dare I doubt Bruckheimer?
I found this movie's iteration of one of the standard genre roles--the exasperated boss of the cop who plays by his own rules--to be top-notch, so I looked up the actor and discovered that he was a real-life Detroit detective. That was a nice touch. Otherwise, this film is basically a time capsule of 1984's vision of Los Angeles: blonde women with huge sunglasses riding in convertibles along Rodeo Drive, etc. All of that is backed by the constant sound of 1984 behind all of the action: “The Heat Is On,” “Neutron Dance,” “New Attitude,” and the ever-present "Axel F."
Only two things interrupted my comfortable immersion in the genre and time. The first was the typeface choice for the movie's title sequence, which seemed way too old-fashioned-scrolling-Hill-Street-Blues-y for the sharp-edged modern California setting. Speaking of which, the Beverly Hills police department looked like a set borrowed from WarGames--filled with giant blinking computer consoles and high-tech screens--which seemed odd in such a low-crime precinct. Otherwise, watching this film for the first time felt like watching it for the twentieth time. Now I have to figure out how to stop humming that song.
Why it resonated: Despite the role being originally intended for Sylvester Stallone (which helps explain my longtime question: Isn't Axel a strange name for an African American detective from Detroit?), this film took the already strong action/cop genre and fused it with the country's hottest comedian to help establish the formula that Jerry Bruckheimer and others would spend the next generation following to the point of exhaustion.
General comments on the film: Seeing it for the first time now, it's hard to determine exactly how much the movie is following the conventions of the genre and how much it is establishing those conventions, but in any case, it checks off nearly all of the familiar elements, right down to the plight of the poor fruit vendor during the opening car chase, during which the film seems to be trying to keep Detroit's automotive industry going by smashing gratuitously into as many huge cars as possible. For a while I thought there wasn't going to be the requisite strip club scene, but how dare I doubt Bruckheimer?
I found this movie's iteration of one of the standard genre roles--the exasperated boss of the cop who plays by his own rules--to be top-notch, so I looked up the actor and discovered that he was a real-life Detroit detective. That was a nice touch. Otherwise, this film is basically a time capsule of 1984's vision of Los Angeles: blonde women with huge sunglasses riding in convertibles along Rodeo Drive, etc. All of that is backed by the constant sound of 1984 behind all of the action: “The Heat Is On,” “Neutron Dance,” “New Attitude,” and the ever-present "Axel F."
Only two things interrupted my comfortable immersion in the genre and time. The first was the typeface choice for the movie's title sequence, which seemed way too old-fashioned-scrolling-Hill-Street-Blues-y for the sharp-edged modern California setting. Speaking of which, the Beverly Hills police department looked like a set borrowed from WarGames--filled with giant blinking computer consoles and high-tech screens--which seemed odd in such a low-crime precinct. Otherwise, watching this film for the first time felt like watching it for the twentieth time. Now I have to figure out how to stop humming that song.
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