MY MOVIE SHELF: Stand By Me

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: 172  Days to go: 121

Movie #266:  Stand By Me

I was just a smidge younger than the four main boys in Stand By Me when it came out, but I still had a pretty hard time relating to it. I mean, I liked it a whole lot — it’s funny and thoughtful and even suspenseful and frightening in places — but these boys were not like boys I knew. Or if they were, then I didn’t know any boys all that well. (My brother wasn’t even born yet when this movie came out, so I never really got to experience boys up close until I was much older.) These boys were worldlier than I was, by far. I don’t know if it’s simply because girls don’t have penises, but I was never aware before this movie that it was important for it to be a “fat one,” or how traumatizing it might be for a leech to be on your balls. I also had never heard swears like these before. I didn’t even know what a pussy was, but it sounded really bad. I’m also not a big fan of barfing, but I suspect that’s just my shocking lack of a sense of humor at work, because clearly, barfing is hilarious.

In their small Maine hometown (because Stephen King, natch), four best friends set out on a hike the weekend before they enter junior high in order to see a dead body. Such is the premise of Stand By Me. It’s a story being narrated (written, as it turns out) by Richard Dreyfuss, the grown-up version of Gordie Lachance (Wil Wheaton). Gordie and his friends Chris (River Phoenix), Teddy (Corey Feldman) and Vern (Jerry O’Connell) find out about the dead body of a boy several miles away when Vern overhears his older brother talking about it with his friend, and the foursome sets out to “claim” the missing boy and maybe get a reward or be on TV. These are lofty goals for a twelve-year-old.

There is a mad dash to beat a train (in a truly heart-racing scene), the aforementioned run-in with some leeches, and a legendary dog who responds to the command, “Chopper, sic balls.” There is also the problem of Vern’s brother Billy (Casey Siemaszko) and his gang of reprobates, led by some street thug named Ace (Kiefer Sutherland), who, once Billy and friend Charlie (Gary Riley) spill the beans about boosting a car and stumbling upon the body, want to claim it for themselves. They’re sort of laughably tame in their thuggery, playing mailbox baseball with actual rules and brandishing a little switchblade like it means something, but when the movie first came out I found them terrifying. No way I would’ve wanted to run into them in a dark alley.

The journey is eye-opening and the conversations are charming and the soundtrack is a treasure trove of oldies but goodies, but the four boys (and the actors portraying them) are what make the film so great.

Jerry O’Connell is adorably dumpy as Vern. He does this weird thing with his mouth when he talks that might as well be subtitled “ah-doi.” It’s really hard to believe the beautiful man he is now really used to be this dopey little klutz. Vern is a bit of a punching bag to the others (literally, in Teddy’s case), but there’s also this sweet naiveté to him, this innocence that hasn’t been corrupted by a whole lot of hardship. I mean, if the worst thing to ever happen to you is that you lost a jar of pennies under your porch, then you’re either living a charmed life or a blissfully ignorant one. In Vern’s case, I’d definitely say it’s the latter, but it doesn’t make him any less likable. He’s a doof, yeah, but he’s a well-meaning, good-natured doof.

Teddy, on the other hand, is pretty dark. He’s aggressive and loud and is fascinated by violence. He’d been horribly maimed by his father, yet he still worships the guy, as if storming the beach at Normandy makes everything else okay. He’s all over the place, really, acting out one minute, being all self-serious the next. Today he’d probably be diagnosed with some sort of mood disorder, but back then he was just an “active” boy or some such. He’s definitely less likable than Vern, but you still see what the others see in him, and that’s quite a balance to pull off. God, remember when Corey Feldman could legitimately act?

Gordie is quiet and small, clearly smarter than the others and also more introspective. He misses his brother Denny (John Cusack) who died a few months prior, and he doesn’t know how to act anymore because of it — not with his parents, or with people who compare him to Denny, or even anyone who just brings Denny up in conversation. He tells a good story, though, and since both Denny and Chris encouraged that talent, he holds onto it. People take Gordie for granted, but he’s not the pushover everyone thinks he is, and he can definitely put Ace in his place. (With the helpful hardware man?) He’s a little shy and a little scared, but he stands by his friends and he sticks to what he believes in. It might be that the story is being told from his perspective, but you’ve got to admire that in a person. Gordie is also, as far as I’m concerned, the best, most nuanced character Wil Wheaton ever played. I really liked Gordie as a girl, and I don’t think anyone picked him out to be the type to crush on, but he was a lot like I was, and I responded to it.

Of course, not even I was immune to the sexy pre-adolescence of River Phoenix as Chris Chambers. I may have been the most like Gordie, but wounded bad-boy-trying-to-make-good Chris set off all my instinctual attraction triggers, even then. He was quiet, too, and thoughtful, but he had a tough exterior and a hard life that he was always trying to escape. People in town may have thought he was shit, but deep down in his heart he was a good person, and that came screaming through his tight little white t-shirt. It’s incredible to me that both — Chris and River — would die tragically, well before either one of their times. More than any other of River’s films, this one makes me nearly cry to think about the talent and potential that was lost. He was just so good here.

All the boys were great, in fact, and somehow each one of them managed to portray a character that perfectly fit the description of their older selves the narrator gives at the close of his tale. And the line about Chris, “Although I hadn’t seen him in more than ten years, I know I’ll miss him forever,” is perfect. I wish he would’ve ended the story right then, in fact, because the actual last line that he types, about never having friends again like he did when he was twelve, then “Jesus, does anyone,” is a horrible pile of schockly hack crap. Is that how Stephen King closes his novels? Fingers crossed that whole last paragraph gets edited out in the revision phase.

Now go play with your kids.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Scream 2

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: 196  Days to go: 138

Movie #242:  Scream 2

“There are certain rules that one must abide by in order to create a successful sequel. Number one: the body count is always bigger. Number two: the death scenes are always much more elaborate – more blood, more gore – carnage candy. And number three: never, ever, under any circumstances, assume the killer is dead.”

That was Randy (Jamie Kennedy), back again as our horror movie aficionado, describing the ways in which Scream 2 will be harder-better-faster-stronger than the original. It’s a sequel, see, and sequels have rules too. But once again, while the Scream films abide by the rules, they also uproot them.

It’s two years since the Woodsboro killing spree of Billy and Stu, and our intrepid reporter Gale Weathers (Courteney Cox) has written a book that’s been turned into a movie called Stab, with Tori Spelling playing Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell), just like Sidney sarcastically predicted in Scream. In an ever-growing attempt to change the boundaries of the horror genre, the movie starts with cameos by Jada Pinkett Smith (pre-Smith) and Omar Epps as Maureen and Phil, Windsor College students out for the night with free passes to an advanced screening of Stab. They simultaneously mock and thwart the lack of African-American representation in horror flicks, only to get brutally murdered in the movie theater (in which Heather Graham is like a naked Rollergirl — she will always be Rollergirl — version of Drew Barrymore’s Casey). (Luke Wilson, it is revealed later, is the movie’s Billy. He has laughably exaggerated bangs in an attempt to mock good old Skeet.) Instantly, the movie tells you the volume has been turned up, and it’s not backing off.

Our next victim comes in the form of Cici (Sarah Michelle Gellar), another random cameo part given to a big named star for the sole purpose of dying a gruesome death. Sequels really are something.

We also have Jerry O’Connell as Sidney’s new boyfriend Derek, because apparently Sidney hasn’t considered lesbianism yet, Timothy Olyphant as another movie guy named Mickey, Elise Neil as Sidney’s roommate Hallie , Duane Martin as Gale’s new cameraman Joel who did not read her book before he took this job, Laurie Metcalf as small town reporter Debbie Salt, Rebecca Gayheart and baby Portia de Rossi as ditzy sorority girls, and even Joshua Jackson shows up pre-Dawson’s Creek. And returning for another time around are Cotton Weary (Liev Schreiber) looking for a little fame and fortune to make up for being falsely accused and convicted of murder — how about that Diane Sawyer interview, Sidney? “Consider it done.” — and Deputy Dewey (David Arquette) rescued from the edge of death in the last film but with significant loss of movement due to nerve damage from his injuries.

Just as Randy says, the deaths are bigger and grosser and there are lots more of them. The scope is more epic, the motives more elaborate and yet more simple. It actually does a really great job of employing the creative mythos of Scream and turning it up to 11. I wouldn’t say it’s better than the original, but it’s quite good. Maybe it’s really more of the second installment of a trilogy ….

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.”