MY MOVIE SHELF: Back to the Future Part III

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: 124 Days to go: 87

Movie #316:  Back to the Future Part III

Back to the Future Part III could’ve gone a couple of different ways: It could’ve held fast to the tortured plot structure of the second film, or it could’ve deviated as much as possible from that tract and given us another lighthearted, entertaining time travel comedy. Somehow, it manages to do both.

Back to the Future Part II ends with Doc (Christopher Lloyd) accidentally stuck in 1885 and Marty (Michael J. Fox) stuck in 1955. So Marty has to seek out the Doc from 1955 again and have him assist Marty in locating the DeLorean (hidden away by Doc in 1885 and communicated to Marty via a letter delivered by Western Union to the exact spot he was standing when he saw the DeLorean vanish) and getting him back to 1985, where all that crap from the alternate universe has been corrected. So Back to the Future Part III picks up at that same spot. Thankfully, though, it doesn’t address the situations in 1985 or 2015 at all. Instead, in locating the DeLorean, Marty discovers that Doc is murdered by Buford Tannen (Thomas F. Wilson) six days after writing the letter to Marty. Naturally, just as he was driven to in the first film, Marty goes to save Doc. Instead of traveling to 1985, he travels back to 1885, and the bulk of the movie takes place there, in the old west.

At this point, the story is infinitely better than it was in part two, as it mirrors the same central conflict as the original: how to get the time machine to work in a time without the necessary technology. The problem isn’t plutonium anymore, of course, because the Mr. Fusion fixes that, but regular old gasoline. The fuel line gets torn when Marty arrives in 1885, and even if they repair it, they have nowhere to get gas. It brings back the ingenuity of the first film, complete with not-to-scale models, a famous alias for Marty (this time he’s Clint Eastwood) and a cast of characters who don’t understand modern jargon or references. It also has Mary Steenburgen, who I think we can all agree makes everything better, as Clara Clayton, the schoolteacher who was supposed to fall down a ravine and die but instead winds up being the love of Doc’s life. By reverting to the beats and feel of the original in this way, while also having a lot of fun with an Old West story, it makes the franchise fresh and appealing again. The movie has tension, conflict, building moments of suspense and a light, tender sense of humor again.

Of course, there are some ways in which Back to the Future Part III is still steadfastly gripping some of the more annoying aspects of Part II. Marty, for instance, is still afraid of being called a chicken, which is still a ludicrous character trait for him. It’s a good thing they wrap it up — both in 1885, with him bowing out of a dual with Tannen on account of Tannen’s an asshole, and in the newly restored 1985 in which Marty reverses his truck rather than drag race bully Needles (Flea, because … he really wanted to be in the Back to the Future movies, I guess?), thus changing his original future history in which he gets in an accident, injures his hand, has to give up rock music and eventually gets fired for being the same ridiculous pushover at work his father used to be with Biff — with Marty simply accepting the fact that being called a chicken is stupid, nonsensical, and meaningless. I mean, it’s annoying it’s in there at all, but since Jennifer (Elisabeth Shue) was abandoned in Part II on a porch swing in a ghetto neighborhood of Hill Valley with a “You’re Fired” fax folded up in her pocket, they were pretty much forced to do something with it.

Back to the Future Part III also continues to use the same main actors (Fox, Wilson, and Lea Thompson) to portray relatives of their 1985 characters at different points. Normally it’s annoying, but here it’s not so bad. There’s only one Tannen in 1885, only one non-Marty McFly man (Seamus, which, who knew Fox was so cute as an Irish ginger with a little beard?) and only one McFly woman being portrayed by actual woman Thompson instead of Fox again. Here the silliness and fun of it shines through, rather than it just being pointlessly odd and disconcerting.

Overall, this entire movie is a lot more fun than the first sequel. It’s got ZZ Top as an old time-y band, Frisbees being used as pie plates (which Marty uses as a Frisbee), the construction of that infernal clock tower, and Emmett Brown completely unable to hold his liquor. Not only that, but it ends with a magical steam engine time machine helmed by Doc and his wife Clara, traveling through time with their sons Jules and Verne. And everyone lives happily ever after.

Most of all, however, I like Back to the Future Part III for its positive message about the future, that it’s not written, not set in stone. We can all forge our own paths, write our own stories, and create our own destinies. I really like that idea, and any time I’m feeling unaccomplished or at a loss, I think of it and refocus. It brings me confidence and contentment and the courage to make (and live with) my choices. “Your future is whatever you make it. So make it a good one, both of you.”

 

MY MOVIE SHELF: Back to the Future Part II

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: 125 Days to go: 87

Movie #315:  Back to the Future Part II

First things first, I love Elisabeth Shue. She’s lovely. Adventures in Babysitting is like one of my most beloved movies from pre-adolescence, The Karate Kid is wonderful (and I don’t know why we don’t have it, since I know I used to), Cocktail was one of those things I watched a million times (also owned that one once upon a time), and not just to memorize Tom Cruise’s bartender poem, and she was positively devastating and wonderful at once in Leaving Las Vegas. Love her. But she is an awful Jennifer Parker. I’m fairly certain the actress who played Jennifer in the first film couldn’t come back for the sequels because of some other job, or maybe the filmmakers wanted a more established actress since the role was being (barely) expanded, but for whatever reason they put Shue in the sequels and it was the worst thing ever. Maybe if they’d let her have her normal hair or if she could try not to look like the effortlessly cool sex magnet the original Jennifer was, it would’ve been okay. But they didn’t. They put her in some godawful wig (I assume — if they did that to her natural hair on purpose, that’s a crime against hairstyling) and made her wear clothes that were similar to, but not exact replicas of, the outfits the original Jennifer wore, which looked weird on her body, and, I’m sorry, but sexy cool sex magnet was just never the role Elisabeth Shue was meant to play. So instead she’s just awkward and ill-fitting. It’s the first of about a dozen huge disappointments Back to the Future Part II embodied.

The first time I watched a version of Back to the Future in which the final title card definitively alluded to an upcoming sequel, I flipped my lid. Another Back to the Future movie! Yes! This was going to be great! (This was Not Great.)

When Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd) shows up in front of Marty (Michael J. Fox) and Jennifer at the end of Back to the Future, he insists they come back with him to the future. Not, as Marty asks, because they’ve become assholes, but, “It’s your kids! Something’s got to be done about your kids!” It’s a great teasing line to close a movie on that you don’t know will be a franchise, but it kind of puts the filmmakers in a bind when an actual sequel is ordered. Suddenly you’ve cornered yourself into a film in which, presumably, your star actor won’t be the focus, pretty much undermining the entire reason anyone wants you to make a sequel in the first place. It’s a big problem.

Unfortunately, writer-director Robert Zemeckis and crew decided the best way around this was to 1) offer up some insignificant yet overblown, easily fixable issue with the “kids” as an excuse to get the protagonists into their future, where the real crisis of the film would come to light, and 2) have Michael J. Fox play the kids. It’s … ugh. I mean, again, I love Fox. He’s affable and charming and he carries the role of Marty (plain, regular, present-tense Marty) just fine. But there’s no reason for him to play his kids — especially not his daughter, who he doesn’t have to impersonate in order to fool Griff (Biff’s grandson, both played by Thomas F. Wilson). Just, none. He’s not good at it, it’s not funny, and it’s more distracting and weird than it could ever be beneficial. It’s a terrible move.

The other horrible decision on the part of the writers is the decision to make Marty sensitive to being called chicken. This is just the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard — even more stupid than having Michael J. Fox play all the McFly children. There is absolutely no indication that he bears this affliction in Back to the Future, why is it suddenly a cornerstone of his character? In the first film, Marty even sets himself up to look less manly and less tough than Lorraine (Lea Thompson) thinks he is. He’s attempting to playact being the unchivalrous brute who’s actually a weakling, meaning he is neither of these things in actuality AND that he doesn’t mind people, who don’t know him or whose opinions of him don’t matter, seeing him as such. So being called a chicken, be it in 1955, 1985 or 2015, should be a meaningless remark, not the underpinning of two (spoiler alert?) sequels and of Marty’s entire downfall.

Anyway, despite how it may seem, there are things about Back to the Future Part II that I do like. For whatever reason, I enjoy the dystopian 1985, complete with Lorraine’s fake boobs, a giant casino hotel, and the absurd idea that the richest man in the universe would still live in Hill Valley. I also thought it was a fascinating twist that George (Crispin Glover) was dead in this alterna-85, and the first time I saw the movie I’d thought hopefully that perhaps that was the new timeline they would visit. (They didn’t, but it was still a nice thought.) And in truth the silly futuristic vision of 2015 is pretty funny, the way all comedic visions of the future sort of are, though I do wonder if I can sue Robert Zemeckis for discouraging me from going to law school, what with me thinking all laywers would be abolished by 2015. (Hilariously, my son pointed out as we watched this today that the stupid clock tower is still broken in 2015. It’s probably the most realistic — and likely — future detail in the whole film.)

Back to the Future Part II also delves directly into the time travel paradox problem, revolving around a plot in which a future Biff steals the sports almanac and the DeLorean from present Doc and Marty, travels back to past Biff, and creates a whole new 1985 universe. It’s exactly the kind of destiny-changing catastrophe Doc warns about in the original, and it’s exactly the kind of thing I love to wrap my mind around. Sadly, the movie doesn’t even respect its own logic, because when Biff goes back to 1955 and changes everything, the 2015 he returns the DeLorean to (and that Marty and Doc are in) no longer exists. I know I’ve seen several attempts to explain and justify this over the years, but none of it makes sense. Nor does it make sense that you can leave Jennifer in a timeline that will no longer exist once you return for her and that she’ll simply revert to the correct timeline. I realize it’s a silly fantasy film, but as someone who thinks about the logistics of time travel and alternate universes quite a bit, I find the laziness employed here extremely frustrating.

Thank God the movie somewhat redeems itself in its concluding film.

 

MY MOVIE SHELF: Back to the Future

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: 126 Days to go: 87

Movie #314:  Back to the Future

Back to the Future is in this really weird place, culturally. It’s one of those movies I consider timeless and entertaining, and yet it’s becoming more and more laughably outdated with every passing year (and that’s without taking into consideration its two sequels). (Take, for instance, the sort of hilarity inherent in Huey Lewis appearing as a band judge who declares the music of our young Marty McFly — Michael J. Fox at his most adorable — as “too darn loud.” It’s supposed to be funny — was originally intended as funny, in fact — because Huey Lewis is in a rock band playing rock music and we’re all jamming out to it on the soundtrack as Marty skateboard-skis his way around town, holding onto the bumpers of various cars. But it’s become funny — a different kind of funny — because we’re talking freaking Huey Lewis and the News, here, not, like, real rock, so Marty’s music really IS too darn loud. It’s hilarious!) In this way, it’s like a perfect snapshot of 1985 — evocative, nostalgic and outdated. But it’s also a great, fun film. My son has no connection to 1985, other than knowing the Bowling for Soup song, so to him the movie is strictly a work of fiction — none of these worlds are recognizable to him — and that works. He LOVES Back to the Future. He’s invested in the characters, really gets into the story, and cackles like crazy when Biff (Thomas F. Wilson) drives his car into a manure truck. I figure that means I’m raising him right.

It’s an infinitely enjoyable film, after all, and it holds up well in that regard. Marty’s pre-DeLorean 1985 world is so clearly drawn. His father George (Crispin Glover) is an awkward, distracted, greasy-haired doormat, constantly under the thumb of his coworker Biff. His mom Lorraine (Lea Thompson) is a puffy, prudish alcoholic. His brother and sister are total losers. They live in a slightly run-down subdivision, have only one car, and nothing they own is very nice. Marty is the only remotely cool one of the bunch, what with his hot girlfriend Jennifer (Claudia Wells) and being in a band and doing that skateboard thing. He even likes sweet black trucks who look like Ironhide. (That’s a Transformer. I wouldn’t know that without my husband.) (Also, the truck looks like Ironhide in the movie. I have no idea what Ironhide looked like in the cartoon.)

The post-DeLorean 1985 is also drawn pretty clearly, pivoting almost all of those details to account for the drastic change in George and Lorraine’s meeting, courtship and formative years at the hands of Marty’s involvement, even if the details themselves don’t make much sense anymore. Like, why, if the family is so successful now, do Marty’s siblings still live at home? Why are they still living in this home, even? Does Marty’s insertion into the world of 1955 somehow prevent Lyon Estates from deteriorating in the ’80s? How does that work? And why does Marty now own the sweet ass Ironhide truck of his dreams? These are all important questions, and they are made possible by virtue of the time travel paradox.

Back to the Future is the first movie I remember seeing about time travel, but, more importantly, it’s the first time travel story I remember dealing directly with the problem of the time travel paradox — how once you travel into the past, the future is inextricably altered. Things were never going to be just as they were, because things in the past are no longer how they were. It’s like dominoes, everything is connected. Every little piece of our world is balanced precariously on the precise outcome of something else, and the tiniest change cascades a billion different subsequent things until nothing’s the same anymore and it can’t be put back. I love thinking about that. It’s an ongoing theme in my life, contemplating miniscule changes that make all the difference, and I love that Back to the Future shares that interest.

Of course, it also raises the question, if you think about it too long, of whether or not Marty was always there in the past, because he always traveled there from the future. The majority of the plot doesn’t bend in that direction, of course, but one of the clocks Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd) owns at the beginning of the film (pre-Marty’s time travel) is an exact replica of him hanging off the town’s clock tower when the lightning struck (post-Marty’s time travel). It’s a tiny detail, and it’s never explored in the film, but it makes my mind do cartwheels, imagining the significance of such a piece in Doc’s collection.

There are things, too, that don’t add up. Like, in what world is ten minutes a significant amount of time to save someone from Libyan terrorists? Or how do you collect the pieces of a note that you’ve torn to bits and scattered to the wind moments before a huge storm? Or why in the world are these people still in contact with Biff? But I’m willing to overlook all of those for the simple fact that I love Back to the Future, I love Rube Goldberg alarm clocks, I love Jennifer’s floral print jeans, I love that Doc says gigawatt with a soft g, and I love that, in this movie at least, the promise of the sequel actually depended on something having to be done about their kids, before the next one went and ruined that completely.

“Now why don’t you make like a tree, and get out of here?”

 

MY MOVIE SHELF: Who Framed Roger Rabbit

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: 135  Days to go: 94

Movie #303:  Who Framed Roger Rabbit

A lot of these movies that were innovative and amazing back when they came out are naturally a bit outdated now, but Who Framed Roger Rabbit still impresses the hell out of me. It sets the bar, really, for this time of seamless integration of cartoon animation and live action. I mean, I haven’t seen Space Jam, but I’m willing to bet Who Framed Roger Rabbit is better.

For one thing, Who Framed Roger Rabbit has a solid plot and is an entertaining movie outside of its gimmick. It’s an old school P.I. story with a film noir wink. Eddie Valiant (Bob Hoskins) is the washed up detective roped into a case that turns out to be more than he bargained for. Dolores (the impeccable Joanna “I’m right on top of that, Rose!” Cassidy) is the good woman at his side, despite his downward spiral since his brother’s murder and his subsequent fall into the bottom of a bottle. Roger (Charles Fleischer) is our wronged husband, set up for murder. He just happens to be a cartoon. And his wife, Jessica (Kathleen Turner) is your basic femme fatale, only without the fatale part. (She’s not bad, she’s just drawn that way.) Judge Doom (Christopher Lloyd) is the scary hardass arm of the law out to get them all. It’s the type of movie that has a format and a formula, but the notes it hits don’t feel like tropes because of the creativity and the freshness brought on by the angle of toons living amongst us, and Toon Town being a real place that they’re all from.

Who Framed Roger Rabbit doesn’t just adopt the feel of a forties mystery, though. It also adopts the style and feel of a classic cartoon. There are sight gags and the physics are fluid and stretchy (particularly in Toon Town) and there are jokes, jokes, jokes. The movie is silly and joyful, even when it’s dark. There are heroes and villains, but the stakes are delightfully cartoonish. (Most of the time. Dip is pretty scary, especially considering the brutal way Doom straight up murders that shoe.)

My favorite parts of the movie, though, are the little things. When Roger puts his hand on Eddie’s brother’s chair, he leaves a mark in the dust on it. When Roger peeks through the hidey hole at the bar, his eyeballs knock over a beer bottle. When Eddie is hiding Roger in his sink and lets him up to breathe, he spits water everywhere. I love all these tiny details. And I love Bob Hoskins. And I love Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

“You mean you could’ve taken your hand out of that cuff at any time?”

“No, not at any time, only when it was funny.”

 

MY MOVIE SHELF: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

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: 175  Days to go: 178

Movie #202:  One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

When AFI released its 50 Greatest Villains, Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher) was right there at #5. Now, make no mistake, Nurse Ratched is a cold, exacting bitch who manipulates and stealthily, maliciously torments her patients, all while wielding a soothing voice to hide her disdainful stare, but I think it’s about time there was some real talk about One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. That being, specifically, R. P. McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) is a real asshole. And an irresponsible asshole at that. That’s not to say that McMurphy deserves everything he gets — I would never say that — but let’s not delude ourselves that Ratched isn’t at least a little bit justified in her hatred of him.

I first became fascinated with One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest because it was on one of those lists of Things From the Year of Your Birth that you get at novelty stores or whatever. It was awarded the Best Picture Oscar that year, and I’ve always felt a little bit connected to it as a result — long before I ever watched the thing. Then when AFI’s Top 100 Films of All Time came out and I set about trying to see as many as I could of the ones I hadn’t yet, there it was again. I watched it, and I loved it. It really is a phenomenal picture. The Academy wasn’t wrong. (It also won Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Director, all deserved.)

R.P. McMurphy is a petty criminal who gets in a lot of fights and never plays by the rules and stirs up trouble as a general rule. He’s not a bad guy, exactly, but he’s not a hero either. He’s a jerk. He’s obnoxious and selfish and rude and he has absolutely no respect for authority. So as a way to game the system, he’s decided to act crazy in jail in order to get transferred to the state mental hospital. He thinks it’ll be a cakewalk. He’ll have a little fun, get out from under the thumb of the prison guards, and go back to his life when his sentence is over. Joke’s on him, though, because the hospital ward is Nurse Ratched’s domain, and she and the doctors there can extend his stay as long as they see fit. He’s been committed, you see, and while she knows (as the doctors do) that he’s not crazy, he’s made a point to be a pain in her ass, so she votes to keep him under their care for the time being rather than send him back to jail.

McMurphy is pissed at this, naturally — not that he knows she voted to keep him there but when he finds out his sentence won’t run out in 68 days like he thought — but he still makes no effort whatsoever to toe the line. He’s spent all his time on the ward riling up the patients — most of whom are there voluntarily because they have extreme depression, anger or other social anxieties — gambling away the few privileges they have, and constantly trying to escape. Then he throws a huge party in ward one night, sneaking in booze and chicks before he runs away for good, but manages to pass out drunk before he runs away, and he’s caught again. It probably wouldn’t be the end of him if he didn’t then try to strangle Nurse Ratched for her cruel and unrelenting treatment of a fellow patient following the night’s debauchery. Attempted murder is not going to win you any favors, it turns out.

So if McMurphy isn’t the hero of the story then, who is? If Nurse Ratched is the villain, then someone must be the hero, right? The hero, it turns out, is Chief (Will Sampson). He’s a large, looming Native American who appears to one and all as deaf and dumb. McMurphy treats him as a pal, though, despite the claims that Chief has no idea what McMurphy’s even saying. It doesn’t matter. Mac plays basketball with him and jokes around with him and makes him feel like part of the group, and eventually Chief reveals he can hear and talk just fine. The two become good friends, and Mac tries to convince Chief to run away with him, but Chief is there (and faking a serious disability) because he can’t face the world, can’t talk to people, can’t leave the security of the ward. He’s afraid of it all and plays the role of the deaf-mute because it prevents him, then, from having to try to engage and to talk and to interact with others. Chief’s triumph at the end, therefore, is truly inspiring and heartwarming. He’s lost his friend (well before Mac returns to the ward, it turns out, making what happens next more an act of mercy than anything else), but he still finds the strength to go, to leave the confines of the ward, with all its safe and familiar routines, and to head out into the great expanse of the distant mountains. It’s a lovely ending.

The ward is filled with notable performances from a lot of recognizable and renowned actors, as well. There’s a really young Danny DeVito as Martini, a lanky and bald Christopher Lloyd as Taber, Sidney Lassick as Cheswick, Vincent Schiavelli as Fredrickson, and prolific character actor Brad Dourif in his first credited role as the tragic and adored Billy Bibbit. While most of these patients still won’t leave the ward after McMurphy’s time there (and poor Billy’s is cut short by circumstances brought on by both McMurphy and Ratched, despite McMurphy’s view of things), he did bring confidence and verve back into their lives. He made them a little more open, a little more sure of themselves, a little more alive — at least for a time. So maybe McMurphy is a hero in his own right. A tragic hero, perhaps. One who never really lived up to his potential, was fouled by his own colossal screw-ups, and one who ultimately lost everything, but one who made a little bit of a difference — who made things just a little bit better for a while.

It’s a thought, anyway.

 

MY MOVIE SHELF: Clue

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: 306  Days to go: 295

Movie #67: Clue

It has to be a difficult task to make a movie based on a board game. I assume that’s why it’s rarely attempted and only ever moderately successful this once, with Clue.

To clarify, Clue was not at all successful in theaters. I remember when it came out, and while I saw it and a bunch of my friends saw it — more than once, to see all the different endings — mostly it was mocked and derided for being stupid and silly and gimmicky for having multiple endings and being based on a board game. It didn’t make a lot of money, but for several children of that era — and the many children who’ve come after, catching it on TV several times a year — it achieved a certain revered status.

The reason, I believe, for this status — this success, as it were — is twofold. One, the movie employs some of the best and most respected absurdist comedic actors of the previous ten years, at least: Tim Curry, Madeline Kahn, Michael McKean, Christopher Lloyd, Eileen Brennan and Martin Mull. All were skilled at and at ease with improvisation, rapid-fire banter, and physical comedy, plus they brought Lesley Ann Warren into the mix, who was both sexy and funny. Two, nobody took this seriously. This isn’t Battleship, where there’s some grave worldwide crisis threatening all mankind that must be solved. Clue is playful and ridiculous — not even the setup or the motives or the endings make a whole lot of sense — and incredibly fun to watch.

One thing I think makes this one board game somewhat easier to adapt than any other is the fact that it comes pre-packaged with characters and a storyline. Six people — Miss Scarlet, Colonel Mustard, Mrs. White, Mr. Green, Mrs. Peacock and Professor Plum — are all present in this mansion when Mr. Boddy is killed, and one of them did it, in one of the rooms, with one of the six provided weapons. It’s a basic framework for a narrative already — who are these goofy people with these weird names and why are they all suspected of murder? It’s a structure that the talented actors and writers (including John Landis) could play with.

My favorite, unsurprisingly, is the clever wordplay and double entendres bandied about throughout the film. If there is a double meaning to be had or a misunderstanding to be made, Clue exploits it. “Why would he want to kill you in public?”

Then there’s “one plus one plus two plus one, not one plus two plus one plus one,” and Madeline Kahn with “flame, flames, flames — on the side of my face.” Not to mention the greatest last line of any frivolous movie ever, “I’m gonna go home and sleep with my wife.” Way to go, Mr. Green.