MY MOVIE SHELF: Jerry Maguire

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 222  Days to go: 222

Movie #155:  Jerry Maguire

Let’s get down to brass tacks, okay? Is Matt Cushman (Beau Bridges, who is for some reason uncredited) racist? Everyone who talks about Jerry Maguire talks about Tom Cruise (as Maguire) or Renee Zellweger (as Dorothy Boyd) or Cuba Gooding Jr.’s manic, Oscar-winning performance as Rod Tidwell or adorable moppet Jonathan Lipnicki (as Ray Boyd). Some — SOME — talk about the fabulous Regina King as Marcee Tidwell. But very few talk about my favorite performances (so it’s a good thing I have my own personal — albeit small — forum), and nobody talks about whether or not Matt Cushman is a racist.

He says “my word is stronger than oak,” and then he goes and signs with Bob Sugar (Jay Mohr) while Jerry is “in the lobby with the black fella.” That’s what he says, and he says it with such animus it makes me truly uncomfortable. Golden Boy Frank Cushman (Jerry O’Connell surprising everyone by 1) no longer being the fat kid from Stand By Me and 2) being hilariously hick-jock-dumb) kind of shakes it off, like that’s just the way it is, which is also pretty chilling, but not as much as his father’s words. I definitely feel like the implication is that Matt Cushman is racist and resented Jerry spending any time with Rod because Rod is black. It’s another one of the subtle, uncomfortable notes that writer/director Cameron Crowe peppers throughout the film.

One of my favorite uncomfortable notes is when Jerry initially gets that “my word is stronger than oak” affirmation and drives off in triumph but is unable to find a suitable song  on the radio to match his uplifted spirits. I’ve written before about Crowe’s singular ability to tell so much of his story through his soundtrack, and this movie is an excellent example of it. “Free Fallin'” is one of the worst songs Jerry could possibly choose as his anthem, and yet it fits the theme of the film perfectly. He’s a man without purchase, without direction. He’s lost himself and he’s grasping at straws. Dorothy is a straw. Ray is a straw. Marriage is a huge straw. He doesn’t know how to be the person he wants to be while still being the man he was with the career he has. The movie is his journey and he doesn’t get where he’s going easily. I love that. I love that Dorothy is the one who realizes the truth of their situation and breaks it off with him, despite being the one to lead him down this path with her too-early declaration of love (even if it was to her sister, Laurel (Bonnie Hunt) and not him). Dorothy is sweet and hopeful and idealistic, but she’s also smart and she’s not a pushover. I love that about her, but truthfully, I love Laurel more.

Laurel introduces herself to Jerry as the “disapproving sister,” and she makes it work. Her constant badgering Dorothy not to fall in with Jerry is awesome because it’s exactly the kind of thing Dorothy needs to hear, even if she doesn’t listen to it right away. And her faux-happy reaction when she hears the wedding news is just about my favorite thing ever, even more than her reaction to Jerry being good-looking, and her reaction to him hugging her, and even her awesome sister-ness when she salvages the dish of food Dorothy runs into. She’s just kind of great all over.

Avery (Kelly Preston) also is fabulous in this movie. She’s brash and she’s fierce and she knows what she wants and she’s not a victim at all. She proudly talks about how she doesn’t have that sensitive thing women are supposed to have, and she doesn’t apologize for it. She’s ambitious and she’s a winner. She knows what she wants. If she believes she can make something work, she will. I freaking love Avery.

There’s also not enough love paid to Jay Mohr, who is an amazing amount of cutthroat huckster. He has no feeling, he sees only dollar signs, and he makes it seem like he’s much taller, much more imposing than he is. He’s a shark in this movie, which is actually kind of incredible. I admit to having a lot more Jay Mohr appreciation than most people, but I think he kills it here. (I also like him as Jennifer Aniston’s love interest in Picture Perfect, though, so I might just be That Girl.)

I have to say, I feel a lot of love and attention was paid to the big roles in this film, and while I love a lot of the smaller moments from the big roles (Jerry’s face and reactions to Ray talking to Rod on the phone is my favorite — all the way through the whispered “you said fuck”), I really really love the small roles. The supporting roles make this movie for me, and make it worth owning and watching and thinking about. It’s not about “show me the money,” it’s about the “kwan.”

“Great word. Tao?”

“No, I air dry.”

MY MOVIE SHELF: Almost Famous

The long and the short of it is, I own well over 300 movies on DVD and Blu-ray (I’ll know for sure how many at the end of this project). Until June 10, 2015, I will be watching and writing about them all, in the order they are arranged on my shelf (i.e., alphabetically, with certain exceptions). No movie will be left unwatched . I welcome your comments, your words of encouragement and your declarations of my insanity.

Movie #12:  Almost Famous

I have a theory that someone could base an entire masters thesis on the use of music cues in Cameron Crowe films. Having been not only a music aficionado but a professional music journalist at 15, he knows better than any other director the exact right song to evoke the exact right emotion or make the exact right statement at the exact right time. Pick any Cameron Crowe movie and one of the most iconic scenes therein will feature such a song — Say Anything… with “In Your Eyes,” Jerry Maguire with “Free Fallin’,” and Almost Famous with “Tiny Dancer,” are perhaps the top three. He uses these songs very deliberately, with specific intent. Each one meant to convey something vital and meaningful to each film. With Almost Famous, the song is a tension breaker after an especially volatile night of infighting and defection within Stillwater, the band our hero William Miller (Patrick Fugit) is there to interview, but it’s not only that. It speaks to the power of music, to the ability of a song to bring people together, of the community one feels among people who share your love for something. When William stops singing along to tell Penny (Kate Hudson) he has to go home, she tells him what we’re all feeling: “You are home.”

That this movie is autobiographical — Crowe himself spent three weeks at age 16 covering The Allman Brothers Band for a Rolling Stone cover story — almost makes it more fantastical and harder to believe, while still giving it additional heft as a story, particularly with regard to William’s mother Elaine, played with a perfect balance of anxiety and love by Frances McDormand. While both she and Hudson were nominated for Oscars in the Best Supporting Actress category for the film, McDormand’s fussy portrayal of Elaine tended to be overshadowed by the bright shining light of Hudson’s Penny Lane, which is a shame. Despite being at times unreasonable and often out of touch, Elaine is actually the solid center of an otherwise chaotic space. She gives William the strong footing he needs to succeed in this maniacal business, and without her influence hovering both over and inside him throughout his journey, he easily could’ve gotten lost.

This, of course, does not diminish the strength and influence Penny Lane also has over William, over the band, and over all the events of the film. She is worldly beyond reason, often seeming much older and more experienced than she has any reason to be. She guides William, literally and spiritually, through the process of touring with a band and of loving — really loving, in your soul — their music. She’s all about the music. But she’s also all about Russell (Billy Crudup, looking preternaturally beautiful), and that’s really where her age betrays her. Because while she is wise, she is also young and vulnerable and in love with a man she can’t keep. The range in Kate Hudson’s eyes, from the tight shot that cuts from hers to William’s as he’s about to be “deflowered” by the other girls, to the little-girl-lost pain in her tears when she asks why Russell doesn’t love her, to the dawning recall of the memory of the things William said and did when she was overdosing on quaaludes, is really a thing of beauty — especially the deflowering scene, as she realizes the stark longing William has that she join them, that the only one he wants to be with is her, and with only her eyes in frame her expression goes from playful to knowing to just a sliver of sadness. It gets me every time.

Then there’s William’s mentor, Lester Bangs, played by the late and brilliant Philip Seymour Hoffman, who says as much in his pauses as he does in his dialogue. Although Lester was a real person, here I like to think of him as a mouthpiece for Crowe — not Crowe as he was at 16, because that’s Patrick Fugit’s job, but Crowe as an adult, giving advice to his former self, as we all wish we could do at times, to be true to himself, to the music, and to the story, and to not be a slave to “the industry of cool.”

“Music, you know, true music — not just rock ‘n roll — it chooses you.”

“You wanna  be a true friend to them? Be honest, and unmerciful.”

“I’m always home. I’m uncool!” I can relate. If only I’d known it was okay to be uncool when I was 15.