MY MOVIE SHELF: Men in Black

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: 198  Days to go: 203

Movie #179:  Men in Black

Funny story: This movie was mis-alphabetized on my shelf because its spine says MIB, so now I’m going to be upset forever that my entire project is screwed up, like having a freakin’ bubble caught in your phone’s screen protector. Goddamn bubble. At least I don’t own the other two, or I’d have been super irked by this. I mean, more than I am already.

And now you know exactly how neurotic I am.

Men in Black was maybe the first movie that made me realized I didn’t mind alien sci-fi if it was funny and clever alien sci-fi. I am hugely anti-Independence Day, so Men in Black was the first movie of Will Smith’s (as Agent J) I could really get behind. And it’s such a great movie. Secret government agencies are not a new theme, and neither are aliens living among us or alien invaders threatening to destroy Earth, but Men in Black makes those well-worn paths seem new and fresh. The agency, their weird egg-shaped chairs, the firefight test where J shoots little Suzy with the Quantum Physics books, the various aliens and all the gadgets — especially the neuralizer — come together to make the film interesting and fun and different from anything done before.

Will Smith is great the whole way through, but the absolute best part is in his introductory scene when he’s chasing down the alien through the streets of New York. He’s sharp and witty and funny while also being a bit of a badass. The rest of the time, fumbling through a new world, he exhibits more of a goofiness mixed with his natural swagger, but the beginning is all confidence. It’s great.

As for MIB proper, Rip Torn (as Agent Zed) runs the agency with a gravelly voiced monotone that drips arrogance and authority. He’s a lot of fun. And nobody does cantankerous straight arrow like Tommy Lee Jones, though here he gets to use his niche to a decidedly comic effect and it works great.

Linda Fiorentino makes for a somewhat stilted and off medical examiner, I think, but that might be all the flashy things she’s gotten over the years. And no lie, Vincent D’Onofrio’s Edgar suit was the creepiest, grossest, scariest thing I’d ever seen up to that point. Blech.

Tony Shalhoub as Jeebs is another highlight, and his head getting blown off was one of my favorite surprises in the film. It’s even better when he regenerates and his eyes are crossed in new ways. All of the featured aliens, in fact, are clever and unique, each different and unusual in their own ways.

As much as I enjoy Men in Black, though, the thing that secures it deep within my heart it the final image. As J and L (Fiorentino) drive off through the city, the camera pulls back to an aerial view of the city, of the earth, of the solar system, of the galaxy, all fitting within a marble currently being played with by an alien in some other world, who places our galaxy marble into a bag full of other galaxy marbles. It’s a flight of fancy, and yet it’s not entirely implausible. Our world — our entire universe — could’ve been created inside the dense center of a black hole which exists in another, larger universe. This is actually a thing. And this flight of fancy speaks to that, to the incomprehensible vastness of the universe, to the unheard of possibilities that lie beyond the limits of our knowledge of space.

How freaking great is that to be touched on by a silly little popcorn movie? It’s seriously so great. The others are fine little follow-ups (and I do hold a special place in my heart for the third movie, even though I don’t own it, because it deals with time and changing history and alternate timelines), but the first is simply incomparable.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story

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: 288  Days to go: 277

Movie #89: Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story

“Donde esta la biblioteca, Pedro?”

Dodgeball is a really funny movie that holds up to multiple viewings. Pondering why this might be today as I watched, I realized pretty quickly that it’s because Dodgeball is positively stacked with jokes. Jokes upon jokes upon jokes. Whatever your style of jokes preference is, Dodgeball has a joke for you.

Dry joke partisans will appreciate Vince Vaughn as Peter LaFleur, playing the straight, low-key guy against all the craziness around him. With the pop of an eyebrow and a one-liner at the ready, LaFleur is the king of the wry observation. Given Vaughn’s history of being both inclined to and in danger of taking things overboard, putting him in this role successfully reins him in and uses him to the movie’s best advantage. As a complement to Vaughn is Christine Taylor as Kate Veatch, a tough girl, a baller athlete and a consummate professional, she puts everyone in their places with cutting remarks. It’s the kind of stuff keen observers and dry wits appreciate.

Those looking for absurdist comedy, however, won’t be disappointed either. Dodgeball is practically bursting with it. From the cheerleading Donkeys to the Average Joe’s carwash, to the entire concept of a Dodgeball tournament, the whole film is silly and goofy and weird. There are also characters Patches O’Houlihan (Rip Torn) and Steve the Pirate (Alan Tudyk), whose entire existence is bizarre, not to mention the steaming ball of crazy named White Goodman (played by steaming ball of crazy Ben Stiller). White is a treasure trove of wackadoo, self-abusing (literally and figuratively) with food, obsessing over his appearance and throwing his nonexistent weight around in the biggest (haha) Napoleonic complex you’ve ever seen.

White is also constantly misusing idioms and mangling language, which is intellectual humor at its finest. Another great intellectual joke? There is a chest full of money at the end literally labeled “Deus Ex Machina.” These are the jokes not everybody gets, but the people who do love them all the more for their obscurity. Stiller is unsubtle enough with his stuff that it’d be hard to miss here, but it’s still pretty artfully and smartly done. White’s use of a deep, raspy voice when he wants to sound profound is hilarious, especially when what he actually says is nonsense. And yet, White’s surplus of funny doesn’t stop there.

Physical comedy fans have a lot to look forward to in Dodgeball, and White Goodman’s performance of “Milkshake” over the end credits is a major highlight. It’s not the only one, though. Stephen Root is a delight as awkward, dorky Gordon, and I’ve long been a fan of Justin Long’s hapless earnestness (or earnest haplessness). Long, especially, has been a favorite of mine since his turn in the TV show Ed, and here, playing the character Justin, he’s just as lovable, just as jittery, and just as uncomfortable in his skin. His cheerleading routines and his workout attempts are great, but him getting hit in the head with that wrench (“If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball.”) is gold. Another skilled purveyor of physical comedy is Missi Pyle, who is always willing, in every role she’s ever taken, to completely forsake her own vanity for the good of a role. She’s like Melissa McCarthy and Anna Faris in that way, only she gets far less recognition for it. Here, Pyle stars as Fran, some Eastern European Slavic athlete with a fierce unibrow and jacked-up teeth. With a deep voice and a terrifying mole, she’s the scariest player on any team.

The place Dodgeball really shines, though, is as a sports parody. Not just a sports movie parody — though it does touch on the clichés of the passionate coach, the intense training montages, the underdog victories, the noble cause, the huge setback, playing with The Force, and the motivational speech — but a parody on all aspects of sports. There are the Dodgeball Dancers, the hilarious fan signs in the crowd (“Joe’s Knows Balls.”), ESPN 8 “the Ocho,” the tagline “Go Balls Deep,” the intricate and confusing rules, the silly little red penalty rope the ref dangles in front of White for a warning, the overblown introductions of all the teams, and the two commentators played by Gary Cole (as the play-by-play man) and Jason Bateman (in a huge and fabulous departure from the kinds of roles he usually plays, as the flighty, rockstar color commentator). Cole is gloriously self-serious, dropping brilliant lines about the Helsinki championship of 1919 and the perfect, “Do you believe in unlikelihood?!” Meanwhile, Bateman is distracted and cavalier, making the kind of useless and nonsensical comments any sports fan knows aren’t too far off the mark from the things real commentators say.  (Watch a game sometime — any game. You’ll see what I mean.)

I first saw Dodgeball in the theater with my brother — one of the few times we’ve hung out together, just the two of us, given our big age difference and the substantial geographical distance between us — and it’s a memory I really treasure because of that. I always think of him when I watch it, but I also enjoy the movie on its merits. Those merits being lots and lots and lots of jokes. I always appreciate funny.

“Fuckin’ Chuck Norris.”