MY MOVIE SHELF: Suspect

 

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: 162  Days to go: 115

Movie #276:  Suspect

I love it when my kids watch these movies with me. Tonight my son sat down for Suspect, and he’s the exact age I was when it came out. It’s funny to me the ways in which our initial impressions were eerily similar. Are movie watching habits/preferences hereditary?

He kept being struck by the music in this one. Being a murder mystery, Suspect is filled with striking, dramatic music with ominous tones and startling crescendos. They did not underplay their hand on this one, is what I’m saying. I remember being just as affected when I was younger, finding the whole thing a lot more gruesome and terrifying than it perhaps is.

Suspect is the story of a murdered law clerk and the deaf-mute homeless man (Liam Neeson as Carl Wayne Anderson, showing an aptitude for punching things well before it became his vocation) on trial for the crime. His put-upon public defender is Kathleen Riley (Cher) who winds up illegally working with lobbyist Eddie Sanger (Dennis Quaid) — a smooth-talking sly fox who gets sort of cornered into jury duty on Kathleen’s case by way of sexy banter– to find the real killer and the underlying conspiracy that led to it. The movie is tense and puzzling and the final showdown is incredibly satisfying, as well as being a surprising revelation. I’ve seen it a dozen times, at least, and I never get tired of it.

First and foremost, I can’t possibly emphasize enough how much of a sweater and jacket game both Cher and Dennis Quaid are bringing to this party. She’s got warm, comfy sweaters she lounges around reading case files in, big chunky bold print sweaters for looking chic but casual at the office, and gorgeous midi-length sweater dresses with pockets for conveniently hiding secretly delivered keys. To say nothing of her shearling-lined coat she wears with a jaunty beret or the smartly cropped black leather number she sports in the final scene. Dennis Quaid, meanwhile, has chunky fisherman’s cable knits for days, which he pairs with upscale leather bomber jackets in a combination thick enough to save his life from a maniac wielding a straight razor. Sad it no doubt got ruined by the cut and all the blood, though when he takes it off it’s “Hello abs!”

Supporting turns come by Philip Bosco as the maybe-underhanded District Attorney Paul Gray, Joe Mantegna as the ruthless, arrogant and snide prosecutor Charlie Stella, and an unfortunately-coiffed John Mahoney as the having-none-of-Kathleen’s-shit Judge Helms. One or more of them are onto her.

The movie’s tangential attempts at a little social commentary by way of Carl’s afflictions are pretty half-assed and ineffective, and I must admit I keep wondering if maybe the writers made him a deaf-mute just because Liam Neeson is this awesome, imposing figure to look at but his accent was too strong at the time. It was 1987, after all. It seems plausible to me.

Still, like I said, the central mystery is satisfying and the chemistry between the two leads is surprisingly potent. Quaid was at the peak of his sex-appeal in this era, and Cher has this awesome, reluctant but enthusiastic laugh to close the film that you just know is accompanied by some serious frisky activities behind her closed office door. Seems like good old Kathleen Riley won’t be feeling so put-upon anymore.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Moonstruck

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: 193  Days to go: 199

Movie #184:  Moonstruck

So, I could say a lot about Moonstruck and how it is a pretty solid representation of the kind of people I grew up around — my stepfather is half Greek, half Italian, so if you combined Moonstruck and My Big Fat Greek Wedding, you’d get a fair estimation of what his entire extended family is like. I was not at all like these people. I was a fair-skinned, blonde, introspective and relatively quiet child. Non-confrontational. Used to being alone. These people were never alone, and neither is anyone in Moonstruck.

I could also talk about the central romance between Loretta (Cher) and Ronny (Nicolas Cage), the engagement of Loretta and Johnny (Danny Aiello), the marriage of Rose (Olympia Dukakis) and Cosmo (Vincent Gardenia), and the expectations, similarities and differences of these three relationships. I could talk about the brothers, or Loretta’s relationship with her parents, or even Loretta’s parents’ relationship with her grandfather (Feodor Chaliapin Jr.) and how family is represented as both combative and enveloping, how the yelling and the sarcasm take nothing away from the ultimate supportiveness and importance of the family.

I could talk about how for years I planned (and, actually, still plan, maybe) to attend the funerals of my adversaries in a red dress.

I could talk about how the idea of luck Loretta puts forward deeply influences my own superstitions.

I could talk about all the representations of food in this movie (including the opening and closing credits song “That’s Amore”) and how they’ve stuck with me and influenced me over the years. (“Don’t get the greasy fish.” “You’ll eat this one bloody, it’ll feed you blood.” “Old man, you give those dogs another plate of my food, I’m gonna kick you ’til you’re dead.”)

And I could talk about Rose’s quest to discover why men chase women, even though she simply wants to be told what she already believes — that men fear death. Her dinner with Perry (John Mahoney), though, is a fascinating side trip in that endeavor. It’s electrically charged, and Perry responds to it. Rose does too, but she knows who she is. She’s comfortable with who she is. It’s not that she’s not drawn to him, because she is. She finds him amusing and intriguing. But she doesn’t have to act on her attraction, like others in the film, because she’s not in the same emotional place as the others.

What I need to talk about, however, is my first marriage.

I was really unhappy that last year of my first marriage, although I didn’t know it. Not exactly. I just felt off. I felt miserable. I wanted solitude. I wanted to be left alone to lie motionless on the couch watching TV. I didn’t even realize that was such textbook depression until much later, though I did at some point beg my husband to let me see a therapist. (He was very much against the idea, but eventually relented after who knows how many hours of me in tears on my knees, pleading with him.) By that point, though, I was aggressively withdrawing into a fantasy world, wanting less and less to do with my real one. I kept pushing further and further away and eventually I pushed him too far. This is not to say that he wasn’t a part of the problem as well; we both became incredibly petty and demanding in various ways, and we never really connected again on what we wanted or how we wanted to go about it. There was a time when I saw a very clear fork in the road, a way to salvage our marriage and a way to completely forsake it, but there was too much against us at that point and we couldn’t get on the same page. That wasn’t the end of things — there ended up being another eight months of heartbreak and anger and betrayal before I moved out, and another year after that before our divorce was finalized — but it was the beginning of the end, for sure. And all I could think about was Moonstruck and how terrified I was that I was the wolf Loretta accuses Ronny of being.

Ronny lost his hand to a bread slicer five years before and blames his brother for it because it cost him his fiancée and, in his mind, his life. “I lost my hand! I lost my bride! Johnny has his hand! Johnny has his bride!” Loretta tells him he’s a wolf, caught in the trap of the wrong love. To escape that trap, he “chewed” off his own hand. “And now you’re afraid, because you found out the big part of you is a wolf that has the courage to bite off its own hand to save itself from the trap of the wrong love.” I was terrified that this is what I did. That I’d deliberately sabotaged my marriage to get out of a relationship that was suffocating me. It didn’t occur to me at the time how much of myself had been lost through those years with him, or how I know longer knew who I was, but as it became clear how unhappy I’d been, I’d become more and more convinced I was that same wolf, maiming myself in order to be free. And if I could do it once, what’s to say I wouldn’t find myself in that situation again? What’s to say I wouldn’t cut out my own heart again? And have to start all over again? It was quite honestly the most frightened I have ever been.

However, as I gained more space and distance from that relationship, I gradually found myself again, and in finding myself, I found a relationship that complemented who I really was. I feel more confident now, because not only am I infinitely happier, I also know what’s at stake. I know the work and the commitment required to make a marriage work, and I know that it’s worth it. I’ve found my family, and family, as Moonstruck demonstrates, is everything.

Alla famiglia!

MY MOVIE SHELF: Mermaids

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: 199  Days to go: 203

Movie #178:  Mermaids

I really relate to Charlotte Flax (Winona Ryder). I was never as crazy as she is, but I get her. Those middle teen years are brutal. Charlotte lives with her mother Mrs. Flax (Cher) and little sister Kate (Christina Ricci, even more wee and adorable than she grew up to be), and every time Mrs. Flax feels restless or in need of a change, she packs up the family and moves to wherever her fancy strikes. It’s something she talks about with regard to her love for cars — the freedom to leave, to go where she wanted, to live life by her rules — that started back when she was Charlotte’s age. Charlotte hates everything about it.

Mermaids is such a special film because it explores the relationships of mothers and daughters in ways most movies don’t. It focuses on the relationship when it’s perhaps most volatile, but in a way that neither undermines nor champions either side. Charlotte and Mrs. Flax both have valid opinions and they both have unreasonable expectations. They both make smart decisions and they both make huge mistakes. It’s in this way that Mermaids is actually able to create a relationship filled with strife that still feels authentic and full of love.

Mrs. Flax is a woman who has been burned before. Charlotte’s father left her the day Charlotte was born and from that point on, it’s seemed, especially from Charlotte’s viewpoint, that Mrs. Flax has spurned any kind of commitment, from romance to full meals (Mrs. Flax only cooks hors d’oeuvres). Meanwhile, Charlotte longs for stability. She fantasizes about her father (a sort of “grass is greener” compulsion I understand quite well) and scorns her mother and desperately finds to find a place for herself that is the opposite of her mother’s life.

For Charlotte, this idyllic life is currently focused in Catholicism, despite her family being actually Jewish. And as someone who felt pretty lost herself around this age, I fully understand that need to embrace something sturdy and reliable, something that promises solace and answers. Of course, mostly Charlotte just manages to confuse herself and by the end of the film has found a new obsession.

Catholicism isn’t her only obsession in the film, though. The more fervent, all-consuming obsession of Charlotte’s is Joe (Jake Ryan himself, Michael Schoeffling) — convent caretaker and school bus driver extraordinaire. In direct conflict with her quest for religious purity, Joe has turned Charlotte into a raving horndog. Brilliantly, Mermaids addresses the sexuality of a teenage girl with frank sincerity. She is filled with lustful thoughts and desires. She is curious and naive and worldly, all at once. She is growing into womanhood in physical and emotional ways, and her sexuality isn’t left out of that journey. That’s what adolescence feels like, and not nearly enough movies (especially in 1990) spoke to those things in honest and straightforward and believable ways. I love Mermaids for that.

I also love how it deals with an idea I’ve thought quite a lot about: how as a teenager you push away from everything your parents stand for, and how your children will push away from you, and how the cycle will repeat itself into infinity. And yet, even as you lead your life in opposition to your parents, you still wind up becoming them. It’s a fascinating, disturbing, mind-boggling phenomenon, and it’s as common as dirt. Mermaids portrays all that really well too.

The other great thing about Mermaids is Bob Hoskins, who plays Lou. Bob Hoskins is not your typical romantic lead, and yet when Mrs. Flax tells Lou he’s a sexy guy, you believe her. He is clearly, openly into her. In a big way. And they have a ton of natural chemistry that sizzles on the screen. I love how accepting he is of her and how unafraid he is to call her on her bullshit. He’s simply perfect for her, and to be honest, when Hoskins died this year all I could think was how devastated Mrs. Flax must be. They make quite a couple.

Also, can someone hook me up with a Mrs. Flax as a Mermaid costume? I’d be really grateful.