MY MOVIE SHELF: Romeo + Juliet

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: 157+55 (from our late holiday. Merry Christmas to MEEEEEEEE!) = 212  Days to go: 149

Movie #226:  Romeo + Juliet

If you take the manic energy of Moulin Rouge and insert it into a modern (’90s) retelling of one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays, what you get is this raucous, visually arresting spectacle of Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet. I remember a lot of brouhaha over the idea of placing the familiar tale in a modern city — with cars and guns and everything — while retaining the original Shakespearian dialogue, but the more I watch it, the more it works for me. The movie places kids like Jamie Kennedy (with pink hair) as Sampson and other Montague boys in the position of representing the youth of the day within the context of this classic old tale, thus demonstrating how relevant it still is, and how relatable.

Leonardo DiCaprio is Romeo, in love with being in love and uninterested in his parents’ feud with the Capulets. Claire Danes is Juliet, uninterested in her mother’s designs for her to marry young Paris — Dave Paris, that is (played by Paul Rudd). Both actors are at peak loveliness here, framed in shots underwater and through aquariums and against stunning backdrops that nonetheless can’t compete with the stunning blue of their eyes. Truth be told, when each character speaks of the other’s beauty, this film makes you a believer in it. I’ve never seen such gorgeous leads.

The spirit of the tale is kept intact as well, though. Both DiCaprio and Danes master the coyness, the despair, and the double entendre with aplomb. Even if you don’t understand the words themselves, the expressions of their faces tell all. Tybalt (John Leguizamo), too, is fiercely offended and rage-filled when he goes after Romeo. And when Mercutio (Harold Perrineau, who never once screams “WAAAAAALT”) is dying in Romeo’s place and declares “a plague on both your houses,” his resentment is palpable. Then, when Romeo is in hysterics, shouting at Tybalt “Either thou or I or both must go with him,” insisting Tybalt pay for Mercutio’s death, it’s perhaps the most powerful moment in the film, and his despair is felt.

I love Romeo + Juliet, but I’m totally one of those goofballs who practically itches with anxiety in the final scenes, as all the missed connections lead to the tragic end. How does the Priest (Pete Postlethwaite) not get the message to Romeo directly? How does he not have a backup plan? I get upset — every time — that things aren’t just a second altered in order to things to work out. Look the other way, take another moment, give a second’s pause. In any of a dozen moments, that’s all it would take to completely change the outcome, and yet it never happens. It nearly kills me every time.

“For never was a story of more woe, than that of Juliet and her Romeo.”

MY MOVIE SHELF: Night at the Museum

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: 182  Days to go: 183

Movie #195:  Night at the Museum

When you say you grew up in New York, most people assume that means the city and fail to realize there’s this whole giant state as well. I wasn’t as far away from Manhattan (while still being in New York) that I could’ve been, but back when I was a kid (when speed limits were lower and even major highways had fewer lanes), it took about seven hours to get there from where I grew up. I don’t know exactly, because the only times I went to (or through) New York City from my hometown were a couple times with my mom when I was really young, by tour bus, and again when I was eighteen, by train (but that was during a blizzard, so it took us forever — we didn’t reach our final destination of Washington D.C. until 3 A.M. and we left Syracuse, because our flight had been cancelled, at 1 in the afternoon). I’ve been to the city a few times as an adult, but mostly my memories of it start and end with those two or three single-day tour trips my mom and I took when I was still a little kid. We went shopping, rode up to the top of the World Trade Center, saw Cats, ate gross Manhattan Clam Chowder that made me puke, and visited lots of museums. My favorite, unsurprisingly, was the Museum of Natural History, where that big blue whale hanging from the ceiling was the most majestic and amazing thing I had ever seen.

Night at the Museum takes place in the Museum of Natural History. It’s a mostly fun little movie, though a bit slow and stilted in places. Yes, Ben Stiller (as night guard Larry Daley) can grate and sometimes the comedy devolves a little too much for my tastes, but I still hold a lot of love for this film, and I’m almost positive it’s due to that giant blue whale. It only makes one appearance, spraying Cecil (Dick Van Dyke) with its blowhole, but I adore it just the same.

The basic premise of the movie is that divorced dad Larry is a screw up who can’t hold a job and is constantly getting evicted, disappointing and upsetting his son Nick (Jake Cherry), who is really starting to look up to his mom’s fiancée Don (Paul Rudd, wearing four hundred phones on his belt like a douche). As a last-ditch hope, Larry gets an interview at the museum (Stiller’s awesomely funny mother, Anne Meara, plays the employment agency representative) to be a night guard. Larry gets the job — replacing outgoing and aging guards Cecil, Gus (Mickey Rooney) and Reginald (Bill Cobbs) — but finds out on his first night that a mysterious Egyptian tablet belonging to King Ahkmenrah (Rami Malek) brings everything to life at sunset. Chaos ensues, naturally, as everyone from Teddy Roosevelt (Robin Williams) — who has it bad for Sacajawea (Mizuo Peck) — to a skeletal T-Rex to a bunch of Neanderthals start roaming the halls and wreaking havoc. Even the tiny little diorama figurines, led by Jedediah of the Old West (Owen Wilson) and Octavius of Ancient Rome (Steve Coogan), start warring with each other and with Larry. There’s also a gross Capuchin monkey named Dexter who likes to steal keys and pee on things. On top of all that, there’s a secret plot to steal the tablet and other items from the museum that Larry must foil, in addition to keeping the displays under control and not losing them to the dawn (when they will turn to dust if they are outside the museum), and still manage not to get fired by museum director Dr. McPhee (Ricky Gervais). It’s a lot.

Like I said, Stiller tends to grate on me, but a lot of the supporting characters are truly great. The old guards, in particular, are fantastically spry, especially belligerent and pugilistic Mickey Rooney. The T-Rex that acts like a dog is also a lot of fun, and while most of Octavius and Jedediah annoy me, I really like the intercut scene where they flatten the van’s tires and the end scene when they jam to some music in a remote control car. Most notable, though, is how restrained but still utterly charming and funny Williams is as Teddy Roosevelt. He seems to perfectly embody the legend of the 26th president, or at least our modern idea of him, and is a steadying force against the wacky antics of literally everyone else. However, there is one wacky antic I unabashedly love, and that’s Brad Garrett voicing the Easter Island head, because that dum-dum wants some gum-gum.

In general, Night at the Museum isn’t a franchise I’m overly fond of, which is why I don’t own the sequel (despite thinking Amy Adams does a jolly good Amelia Earhart) and have little interest in the third movie coming out later this month. But this first movie is special to me, owing almost entirely to a little girl’s memories of her favorite New York City museum and that gorgeous big blue whale.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Clueless

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: 305  Days to go: 294

Movie #68: Clueless

Oh, Clueless, love of my life. This movie is so much a part of me, I’m not entirely sure anymore whether it reflected back to me who I was or if I became who I am because of it. It’s a very chicken-and-egg situation, except in that case the answer is clearly the egg. The lines are much blurrier with regard to me and Clueless.

I have a confession, though: I never read Jane Austen growing up. Not once. I didn’t even read any in college, either, because by then everybody had already read it. In my defense, though, my mother read sci-fi and trashy romances for pleasure (I drifted toward the latter) and my friends read horror and fantasy. Nowhere in my life was someone to guide me through literature, to tell me to read Austen. I consider it one of the great tragedies of my youth (the other being almost the entire rest of it, in full, but that’s a story for another day). In not reading, Austen, however, when I first watched Clueless (and actually every time I watched Clueless, of the literal multiple dozens of times, up to two years ago when I finally read her), I got exactly none of the references to its inspiration, the novel Emma. The good news being that when I finally did read Emma, I suddenly found I loved Clueless all the more.

Alicia Silverstone is Cher Horowitz, our Emma Woodhouse surrogate. She’s a beautiful, intelligent, privileged teen girl living with her wealthy widower father in a posh neighborhood of Los Angeles who is much more superficial and immature than she realizes, but she has a good, loving heart. And just like Emma, Cher does such a good job setting up her teacher with someone, she sets out to makeover someone she considers a lost cause — the clumsy and awkward Tai being played with verve by the late Brittany Murphy, beautifully working that sort of goofball trashiness she was so weirdly good at. Misguided and blind to the attentions of Elton (Jeremy Sisto, long before I learned to love him on Suburgatory), she tries to match him with Tai until it falls apart horribly. (“Uch, you are a snob and a half.”) And just like Emma with regard to Harriet and Mr. Knightly, Cher is distraught when Tai turns her eye to Josh (the perfect and ageless Paul Rudd, who manages to pull off both intellectual self-righteousness and totally endearing charm), whom Cher is shocked to realize she herself loves.

It’s a stunning remake, both because of its adherence to and deviation from the original work. That is, it keeps all the things that are necessary and still relevant, but it modernizes the story so flawlessly that it could almost be considered a purely original piece. Josh isn’t a brother-in-law by marriage but an ex-step-brother, better to explain his constant presence at Cher’s house and also a wink to the multiple marriage society of the very rich. Christian isn’t secretly involved with Cher’s rival, as Frank is to Emma’s, but he’s equally unavailable in a much more current and realistic way and Cher can be just as intent on him as Emma is to Frank but still remain close friends with him. And while a Beverly Hills high school is not quite the class society of Regency England, teenage cliques can be quite the dividers, with Cher keeping Tai with the “popular” kids and away from “stoner” Travis (Breckin Meyer) just as surely as Emma separated Harriet and Mr. Martin. Meanwhile, Dionne and Murray (Stacey Dash and Donald Faison) are sort of new characters, to split the best friend/successful match role held by solely Mrs. Weston in the book. In today’s world, it’s much less likely that a girl’s best friend would be her teacher, so Cher gets a teacher to set up and a best friend to be a relationship role model. It’s really brilliant overall, and everywhere you look offers a clever peek at how the tale was updated. It could be a Masters Thesis.

Even if one doesn’t know the book, though, as I didn’t for many years, Clueless has so much to offer. The simple and constant juxtaposition of hyper-intelligent and supremely immature dialogue is a thing of beauty. “I felt impotent and out of control, which I really, really hate.” You could never call Cher stupid, really, because she clearly isn’t even if she can’t pronounce “Hatians,” but she is definitely a product of her environment, sheltered and ditzy and shallow at times. That absolutely describes me, as well as the vast majority of a lot of teen girls I’ve known, past and present. So while Clueless is sort of keenly specific with regard to its characters and setting, it’s also universal in its portrayal of the flightiness and confusion of the teenage condition, which is a delicate balance to achieve. (It should be noted this is something writer-director Amy Heckerling has quite the aptitude for, having also directed the seminal Fast Times at Ridgemont High.)

On top of all that, the movie is a cultural touchstone for anyone who was a teenager in the ’90s. It’s informed our lives and infiltrated our lexicons. (And it continues to influence teens everywhere, thanks to its ubiquitous availability on Netflix and cable and a certain video by Iggy Azalea.) If it were possible to measure the number of times Clueless is quoted around the world on a daily basis, I’m sure the result would be astronomical.

“I totally paused.”

“Whatever.”

“As. If.“

“They’re way existential.”

“Hey, James Bond, in America we drive on the right side of the road.”

“You’re a virgin who can’t drive.”

“That was way harsh, Tai.”

“Cher’s saving herself for Luke Perry.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I hope not sporadically.”

“She could be a farmer in those clothes.”

“You don’t want to be the last one at the coffee-house without chin pubes.”

“Okay, but street slang is an increasingly valid form of expression. Most of the feminine pronouns do have mocking, but not necessarily in misogynistic undertones.”

“I do not wear polyester hair!”

The film is a masterpiece of teen romantic comedy that is smart and funny without being patronizing or trashy. It’s delightful and essential and just really, really great. I’m sorry, but if you don’t love Clueless, you might not even be alive inside.

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Cider House Rules

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order, by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 314   Days to go: 305

Movie #56: The Cider House Rules

First of all, it’s important to point out that I don’t acknowledge that title as being about rules posted in the cider house. In my head, I only ever hear The Cider House Rules in the same cadence and intonation used by the guy in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure who says, “San Dimas High School football RULES!” So I maybe have never taken this movie as seriously as I should.

For one thing, it never really occurred to me that Homer (Tobey Maguire) and Candy (Charlize Theron) fall in love. I always thought she was a silly girl who felt a bit lonely and took advantage of a boy with a crush. And while I still think that to an extent, I also now see the true caring and feelings she has for him. He’s this boy with so much love to give, how could you not love him back?

For another, I never really considered the possibility that Dr. Larch (Michael Caine) might have killed himself or that Mr. Rose (Delroy Lindo) didn’t. I just accepted the given explanations of what happened, not for a moment realizing that there was greater depth there. I suppose if I had been one of the children at the orphanage, I would’ve assumed Fuzzy (Erik Per Sullivan) had been adopted as well.

Given how superficially I watched the thing in the past, it’s a wonder I own it at all, especially given I apparently (according to the sticker on the front of the case) bought it pre-viewed at Blockbuster for $14.99, back when that was a really great deal on a DVD. (Things have changed drastically since.) When I watch it, though, I can’t help but be swept up in Rachel Portman’s touching score or the sweet, sad tale of these people who come to, leave from, and sometimes stay at St. Cloud’s Orphanage.

I completely understand Homer’s rebellion against Dr. Larch, and his eagerness to go somewhere else, to see the world, to reject the medical lifestyle, but I really feel for Mary Agnes(Paz de la Huerta), a girl becoming a woman in this lonely place, left there by a mother who didn’t want her, crushing on a boy who leaves, knowing she’ll never get to go. I think my heart breaks for her a little every time I sit down with this one.

I was also really impressed with Erykah Badu as Rose Rose. She was sassy and knowing, and then innocent and lost and full of fear and sorrow. I think it’s a shame Charlize Theron’s picture is on the cover instead of hers, since Rose is the girl who really shows Homer where his heart is — not Candy.

Women come to the St. Cloud’s Orphanage to either bring a life home, or to leave one there. Dr. Larch delivers their babies and cares for the ones that are left behind. He also performs abortions, because he knows that if he — a licensed and skilled physician — doesn’t do it, these desperate girls will go to any other idiot, or even try to do it themselves, which is far more dangerous. As Larch says, though, he doesn’t promote the service. He sees women come in over and over to have these babies they can’t care for, bringing one orphan after another into the world, but he doesn’t say anything or give them any advice. He just helps them as best he can, whatever their choice. Homer objects to performing the procedure himself, which is understandable, but when faced with the reality of Rose’s situation, her desperation, and her complete lack of options, he knows he should offer his help. Because her life is too precious to risk. I wish everyone could see that, the way Homer does — the way Dr. Larch does. This is not intended to be a political post, of course, but the movie deals with this very political topic, so I felt I should touch on it as well. I love the way it humanizes it, and makes it both a personal and a medical issue above all else. To me, that’s how it should be, and I’m always struck by how clear The Cider House Rules makes that to me.

Watching tonight, however, I was mostly struck by two things. One, that I miss Heavy D. As Peaches, he doesn’t have many lines, but he has the best one: “The roof is the best place to have lunch!” And two, Paul Rudd has a portrait of himself somewhere, old and decrepit. He’s 30 years old in this movie, and he looks exactly the same as he did when he was 26 in Clueless or 44 in Admission. The man is an immortal or something, it’s creepy. Maybe he’s in cahoots with that chick Lisle from Death Becomes Her who follows the spring. I wouldn’t be surprised.

In a way, this whole movie feels kind of lost in time, the same way Paul Rudd is. It makes me think maybe that orphanage is still hidden up there in Maine somewhere, cut off from the world, lost in time, with a hundred lonely souls growing up to be of use and to find their places in the world. Perhaps I’ll dream of them tonight. “Goodnight you princes of Maine, you kings of New England.”

 

 

MY MOVIE SHELF: Anchorman

This is the deal: I own around 350 movies on DVD and Blu-ray (I’ll know for sure how many at the end of this project). 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 #17: Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy

Confession: I can only take so much Will Ferrell. More often than not, in the movies of his I enjoy, it’s the supporting cast that wins me over, and that’s the case here. Whenever I feel Ferrell’s portrayal of Ron Burgundy teetering over the edge into unwatchable, Paul Rudd (as Brian Fantana), Steve Carell (as Brick Tamland) or, most of all, Christina Applegate (Veronica Corningstone) is there to reel me back in. Applegate, especially, is the star of this show as far as I’m concerned. Her haltingly proper, overenunciated delivery of every single line is contained enough to level out the manic antics of everyone else on the film while still being absolutely hilarious in its own right.

What else works? The news crew gang fight (Tim Robbins in a Mike Brady perm as the public news anchor is my favorite cameo here), the animated rainbow love scene, singing “Afternoon Delight,” Sex Panther, the Burgundy/Corningstone physical fight (“Knights of Columbus, that hurt!” is the only Burgundy outburst that really makes me laugh), post-sign-off insult exchanges, some little girl on the street telling Burgundy off, Fred Willard (as news director Ed Harken) on the telephone to various people about his character’s son’s escalating violence, and the running teleprompter gag. “Go fuck yourself, San Diego,” still makes me laugh my ass off.

What doesn’t work? Well, like I said, I can only take so much Will Ferrell, so a lot of his mugging bores me to tears. I can do without the shirtlessness, the Jazz flute, the screaming and crying jags, the Jack Black scene, and the entire relationship with his dog Baxter. I also don’t understand his intelligence level. One minute he’s correcting someone on his team for saying something ridiculous, the next minute he has no idea what words mean. I know it’s meant to be funny, and I’m sure a lot of people will tell me I’m uptight for not thinking it is, but it just strikes me as inconsistent and weird. Carell’s Tamland is never not stupid, and he’s consistently one of the funniest characters in the whole film. I think Burgundy could’ve been hilarious (and Anchorman as a whole just as much of a success) if Burgundy had simply been arrogant and sexist with a tin ear for tactful conversation without being a bumbling idiot. I know idiocy is kind of Ferrell’s schtick, though, so I guess we’re stuck with it.

On a whole, I do like the movie (as I mentioned, there are lots of really funny things about it), and there’s no denying it’s secured a place in pop culture history. The only real mistake surrounding it was the decision to make a sequel, not only because it sucked, but because the original ends with a perfect epilogue, letting the audience in on the futures of our featured players. The sequel completely undermined all of that, but luckily we don’t have to go into that here, because I don’t own it and never will.

With any luck, maybe in five or ten years no one will remember that anything but this one Anchorman movie ever existed.