MY MOVIE SHELF: Ghost

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: 255 Days to go: 255

Movie #122: Ghost

Every once in a while a movie comes out that revitalizes an old song and suddenly kids are into music they’d never go near otherwise. The first time I had a date to a school dance (I had to go outside my school, with one of my friend’s brothers, to find someone willing to dance with me, despite going to every dance ever held at my own school up to that point) “Unchained Melody” was the final song of the night — the slow dance to stir all our romantic longings and promote sloppy make-out sessions. I didn’t make out with my date then — we saved that for the backseat of his sister’s boyfriend’s car during the ride home — but we danced to the song. My first slow dance and my first overly wet kiss at the age of fifteen (a late bloomer, perhaps, but I made up ground quickly after that), and suddenly “Unchained Melody” was the most romantic song I’d ever known and Ghost (a movie I’d liked but not really cared about one way or another before that point) became a touchstone of my adolescence. Memories are weird that way.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve largely replaced that first kiss memory with the memories of much better kisses over the years, but Ghost remains a key symbol of that time. It made pottery wheels sexy, it gave Whoopi Goldberg a consolation Oscar for her supporting role as Oda Mae Brown to make up for losing out on The Color Purple five years earlier, and it gave us all a catchphrase to use for the rest of time. (No, not “ditto.” If you’ve never cocked an eyebrow and told someone, “Molly, you in danger, girl,” we might not have much in common.)

It also had a clear vision of an afterlife and what heaven and hell were like. The representation of hell as having your spirit dragged away, screaming, by encroaching and wailing shadows is just about the most terrifying image of it ever concocted for the screen. The image of heaven, while nice enough with its bright, warm light and silhouettes of people to welcome you, doesn’t carry anywhere near the same weight and visual or psychological impact as the shadow demons. Those things are still scary.

Ghost also gave us “Autumn Sunrise,” the quasi-lesbian canoodling of Molly (Demi Moore — the prettiest crier in human history) and a Sam-(Patrick Swayze)-possessed Oda Mae, plus the realization that Tony Goldwyn (as Carl) was a seriously bad guy long before he started murdering people on Scandal.

And I’ve been known to sing Sam’s version of “I’m Henry the Eighth I Am” many times in the shower. Now that’s a song that should’ve gotten a second life.

MY MOVIE SHELF: A Few Good Men

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: 268  Days to go: 262

Movie #109: A Few Good Men

Nobody remembers the beginnings of movies, do they? I mean, you remember the big moments, the climaxes, the great lines. And if you catch it on TV, you almost always miss the very beginning. At least I do. So I put on A Few Good Men excited to see the gorgeous opening of naval officers doing their patterned, ritual marching and gun exercises on the lawn. Only that’s not how the movie starts. It starts with the night-time attack on William Santiago (Michael DeLorenzo) at the Guantanamo Bay marine base. Director Rob Reiner did that on purpose. He’s letting the audience know that with all the pageantry and code of the military to come, this movie is about the death of a young man. Writer Aaron Sorkin knows the importance of that as well, which is why he gives us the character of Sam Weinberg (Kevin Pollak). He may joke that he has “no responsibilities here whatsoever,” but it’s not true. As he says, “I believe every word of their story, and I think they ought to go to jail for the rest of their lives.” His responsibility is to be the conscience, to say that even if Dawson (Wolfgang Bodison) and Downey (James Marshall) were ordered to attack Santiago, they should’ve known it was wrong. They should’ve protected him instead, whatever the cost.

Let me back up.

A Few Good Men is about the trial of Marines Harold Dawson and Louden Downey for the murder of their fellow soldier William Santiago. It’s about a gifted yet lackadaisical Naval attorney named Daniel Kaffee (Tom Cruise) with a history of fast-talking insouciance and plea bargaining, sent to cover a murder case the military would most definitely like to go away. It’s about a passionate and intelligent attorney from the JAG Corps named JoAnne Galloway (Demi Moore) who is the backbone of the defense’s case and their most vocal supporter, despite being inexperienced as a litigator. It’s about the culture of a Marine base that encourages the discipline of soldiers by other enlisted men, of hazing and torture as means of “training” their troops. It’s about the blurred lines between truth and the law and the gray area that exists between right and wrong.

Aaron Sorkin definitely has a reputation for letting his biases take over his storytelling, but I think A Few Good Men succeeds as his most measured and even-handed piece. Yes, Colonel Jessup (Jack Nicholson) and Lt. Kendrick (Kiefer Sutherland) are portrayed as fanatical and arrogant and wrongheaded, but most of the military members are not — not even most of the Marines. It’s the (admittedly) rare moment when Sorkin has something thoughtful to say about an institution that is absolutely honorable and should absolutely be respected, but which at times conducts itself in ways that aren’t honorable at all and should not be tolerated or respected at all (not just hazing either — he also manages to slip in the lazy, categorically ignored instances of sexual harassment toward JoAnne, though the movie doesn’t deal with that issue). And, beautifully, the court members — the jury, in this case — are able to parse the difference. Just like Sam Weinberg, they know Dawson and Downey are not guilty of murder or conspiracy to commit murder. But they are guilty of conduct unbecoming a United States Marine and that they should be punished accordingly. (Not with prison for the rest of their lives, but accordingly.)

My husband and his brother were having a conversation recently about the numerous claims of late all over the news of police overstepping their bounds with regard to force and detaining citizens and whatnot. While I think my brother-in-law had a point about not courting trouble and the law enforcement professionals being due a lot of respect for their sacrifices, the idea that someone can be handcuffed and detained simply for not “respecting” the police to an adequate degree doesn’t sit well with me. Yes, police officers — and members of the military, for that matter — put their lives on the line every single day for the good of the country and its people. But that’s just it: They’re there for the good of the people. Their mission is to protect and to serve. A police officer is literally a public servant (as is any government official), so while I feel they deserve respect, I also believe they need to earn it by respecting the people in their towns and communities — by being patient with and understanding of those in their jurisdictions, those they’re meant to protect. Not to bully them or boss them around or otherwise abuse their power in any way. A Few Good Men understands that. In fact, it’s its primary lesson. In the words of Dawson (the true heart of the film), “We were supposed to fight for people who couldn’t fight for themselves. We were supposed to fight for Willy.”

In the middle of everything else: Kaffee thinking better with his bat, Markinson (J.T. Walsh) killing himself in full dress uniform, Jessup wanting to be asked nicely, Sam telling Danny to wear his (“effety” — Trademark, Veronica Mars) white uniform, Jo getting authorization from Aunt Jenny, Jack Ross (Kevin Bacon) being “a lousy fucking softball player,” all the gorgeous marching drills, Sorkin favorite Josh Malina doing stellar work as the guy who’s going to call the President for Jessup so he can surrender their position in Cuba, and reciting every single one of a billion great lines, the thing to remember is that soldiers are there to fight for the powerless. Above all else, that’s what matters. Anything less is conduct unbecoming.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle

This is the deal: I own around 350 movies on DVD and Blu-ray. Through 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 #49: Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle

I suppose when you have a completely airheaded original movie, the sequel is almost required to be somewhat more substantive, and that’s definitely the case with Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle. Don’t get me wrong — it’s still frothy, silly fun, but the plot is more cohesive and weightier than its predecessor. And yet it also manages to have the expected more-ness of a sequel — more explosions, more flash, more goofy costumes, etc.

First and foremost, Demi Moore makes a perfect villain. She’s entirely believable both as a former Angel (Madison Lee) and a ruthless killer. Her friendly, excited exchange with Natalie (Cameron Diaz) at the beach and her tearful, angry exchange with Charlie (John Forsythe) are two sides of a spectacular coin. Plus she’s gorgeous and her body is rockin’.

Justin Theroux is also terrifying as Seamus O’Grady, Irish mob leader and ex-boyfriend of Dylan (Drew Barrymore) back when she was still Helen Zaas (!!!), put him in jail, and went into witness protection. He’s smart, ripped, sexy, and unmerciful. Plus, that Irish accent he adopts is to die for. (He even looks good/scary in flashback braces and a mullet.) While not exactly working in concert with Madison Lee, they make a lethal tag team.

Two additions that don’t quite work for me are Shia LaBeouf as Leo/Max and Bernie Mac as the new Bosley. I understand there were personality clashes with Bill Murray in the first movie, and I definitely agree Bernie Mac is hilarious, but he seems to distract more than he should by doing his own schtick through all of his scenes. There’s one point where Alex (Lucy Liu) can’t stop giggling at him in a scene where the Angels are supposed to be more composed. And yes, this was back when LaBeouf was a normal person and a semi-popular child actor, but he’s still awkward and seems out of place — like even then, he didn’t know how to be goofy/funny in the same way as everyone else.

Full Throttle has more great cameos, though: Bruce Willis as a justice department head who gets assassinated by the character his ex-wife is playing, Eve and the Olsen twins as potential future Angels, Jaclyn Smith reprising her original TV Angel role of Kelly Garrett, Carrie Fisher as a really weird nun, Pink as a dirt bike race chick with unbelievable abs, Luke Wilson’s older brother Andrew as a somewhat incompetent cop, John Cleese as Alex’s dad who thinks she’s a prostitute, and once again the incomparable Crispin Glover as the mysterious Thin Man.

If you watch the extended cut of this movie, there’s a scene in which Glover’s character has disappeared from the alley where he supposedly falls to his death. I wrote an entire treatment for a third Angels movie to deal with the backstory and return of the Thin Man, complete with Dylan romance, based on that one throwaway shot. I still really want to produce it. Kickstarter, maybe?

Of course, while I say the plot is more substantive, I still wouldn’t recommend putting too much analysis toward it. It’s not that substantive, but it is still a lot of fun. It’s still punny and quippy and flashy and goofy and I still really love it a lot — I’ve never disliked Cameron Diaz after this came out, which is really quite an accomplishment. There’s the cock and the beaver, the ferret, Helen Zaas (!!!), Cameron Diaz in a mullet as the Angels do some elaborate CSI bit, floating titanium rings in champagne (Diaz pulling off her knife-opening party trick long before What Happens in Vegas), using broken pieces of wood as skateboards down a ship line, and Alex introducing Dylan to her father as the head of gynecology (Drew’s face is priceless).

I totally love it; I’m not ashamed.