MY MOVIE SHELF: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

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: 238 Days to go: 243

Movie #139: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Al Gore may have invented the Internet, but for the billions of nerdy guy fans of this book by Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy breathed life into it. How many Internet things are named for stuff in the Guide, I have no idea.

I know Babelfish was one of the first/best language translators on the web — a perfect use of the moniker first mentioned in the Guide as an alien fish who feeds on brain waves which, when placed in your ear, translates any language into one you can understand.

I also know Trillian is a global instant messaging service, because I used to use it before I only ever needed to chat with people on Facebook or Gmail, but I’m not sure that service correlates to the character Trillian from the book all that well.

And I know that countless online usernames have been lifted directly from the Guide, but I actually didn’t know that at all until I first read the book something like just over nine years ago, just before the movie came out. Hell, I didn’t even know the book existed until less than twenty years ago, and it was already a phenomenon millions of times over by then.

It was just after the split from my first husband, and I was in a fairly toxic rebound relationship that I’m still, truth be told, somewhat upset about (not like, it still weighs on my mind, but if I do happen to think of it, my whole body cringes with “UGH” and I can’t keep from rolling my eyes in disgust). Things weren’t all bad, though. After all, it was because of him I vowed to only ever date tall guys from that point forward, plus he introduced me to the books of Tom Robbins, which I unapologetically adore. I also read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy because he loved it so much (not the first one of my exes to love it, but there was a movie coming out, so), and finally I understood like 85% more of the Internet’s references and inside jokes. Plus it meant I could follow along fairly well with the movie.

The movie, I find, plays better with people who are either unfamiliar with or somewhat ambivalent about the book than it does for people who are crazy in love with it. That’s understandable, because nobody likes having their nostalgia tampered with. However, I think the movie is easier to understand if you’ve at least read the book before, so that creates sort of a demographic Venn diagram nightmare. Oddly enough, though, myself and my future (now current) husband both managed to fall into the center sweet spot, and we both like the movie quite a bit. This DVD is his copy, in fact.

Personally I find Arthur Dent kind of annoyingly nebbish, but Martin Freeman plays him exceedingly well (it’s almost a precursor to his early Lester Nygaard on FX’s Fargo). On the other hand, Trillian (Zooey Deschanel) is bold and interesting, even if her “Let’s go to Madagascar” nonsense does scream MPDG. And Mos Def is someone I would never think of offhand as an actor, and yet he’s a really fascinating actor. His portrayal of Ford is perfectly goofy yet chill. Sam Rockwell, however, is on the complete opposite end of that spectrum as wild and crazy Zaphod Beeblebrox, doing exactly the kind of thing Sam Rockwell should do in every movie, always, because he is a national treasure and a rare gem. Meanwhile, if you don’t instantly fall in love with Alan Rickman as depressed robot Marvin, then you and I are probably not friendship material.

The special effects and graphics are unique and satisfying, the story is adequately condensed without losing any of its trajectory or emotional weight, and the film is really, really light and airy and fun, just as it should be. Honestly, I can’t complain about it at all.

I’m just not that kind of Internet person, I guess. (Don’t panic. It takes all kinds.)

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Green Mile

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: 244 Days to go: 248

Movie #133: The Green Mile

The Green Mile, for me, kind of crystallizes the best tendencies of Stephen King. The story contains elements of the mystical, of justice borne from man and from a higher power, and of proper punishment being meted out one way or another. It’s about a mysterious giant of a man named John Coffey — “just like the drink, only not spelled the same” — played by a dearly departed giant of a man named Michael Clarke Duncan, and the time he spends on death row (the titular “Green Mile”) for the rape and murder of two young girls.

Paul Edgecomb (Tom Hanks) is the narrator of this story, relating it to his friend in a retirement home in the present. He tells how he was the head guard on death row of Cold Mountain Penitentiary, Louisiana back in 1935, when John Coffey came to stay. He tells of John’s sweet submissiveness, his meekness, of how he’s afraid of the dark. He tells of a spiteful and petulant guard named Percy (Doug Hutchison) — with ties to the governor, he always throws his weight around and is likely only working this job for the repugnant pleasure of watching a man die up close — who has a particular grudge against inmate Eduard Delacroix (Michael Jeter). He tells of a violent, calculating and remorseless criminal named “Wild” Bill Wharton (Sam Rockwell) who came to stay on the mile as well, and who has an untold history of his own. He tells the story of the warden’s (James Cromwell) wife (Patricia Clarkson), who is dying of a brain tumor but is miraculously healed. He tells the story of a marvelous little mouse.

John Coffey is a simple but miraculous man. If someone is ailing, he can “help it.” If something happens to hurt someone, he can “take it back.” He heals Paul’s bladder infection when it’s so advanced Paul can barely stand. He draws in the negative energy and coughs it up into the atmosphere. He heals the mouse when Percy steps on it out of spite for Delacroix, who was keeping it as a pet. And one night the crew takes him out of the prison to heal the warden’s sweet wife. But things don’t go as expected that night, and the evening ends with both Percy and Wild Bill being justly punished for the things they’ve done.

Duncan was a big man in his own right, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I spend most of the movie wondering how they made John Coffey so huge compared to everyone else. I have to assume he was always on a platform of some sort, six inches tall or more. I also can’t watch this film without thinking Sam Rockwell is one of the greatest character actors of our time. (“Why should we give you any?” “‘Cause I’ve got a big pecker.”) He’s so evil, so foul and so coldly unrepentant in this film it’s honestly unsettling.

Tom Hanks is also good, as always (as are David Morse and Barry Pepper as guards “Brutal” and Dean), bringing real sincerity and weight to the moral dilemma of killing a man who has such a miraculous gift, but it’s not really one of his stand-out roles. Back when the movie came out I was working in the payroll department of a national company, and since we often had overnight deliveries to make, we interacted with the guys from the mail room several times a week. One of those mail room guys bet me twenty dollars Tom Hanks would get yet another Oscar nomination for this role (back then it certainly felt like he got one every year, but that wasn’t quite true), and I assured him it would never happen — it just wasn’t the right role, wasn’t the right performance. Understanding the peculiarities of the Academy can be tricky, but I’d been doing it enough I felt confident in my stance. I was right, of course, but that guy had left the company by then. So if you’re out there, John from the mail room, you still owe me $20.

What I really love about The Green Mile is how easy and deliberate it is. It tells a story as calm and collected as Paul and his guards, with a handful of tense sequences to make your heart race. I love how it treats its prisoners as people, how that’s the philosophy of the guards on the Mile. And I admit I like a story where the antagonists get what’s coming to them.

I also appreciate how things end for John Coffey, because as good as he is, as miraculous as he is, those things can’t survive in this world for long.  So it’s best to appreciate them and be grateful for them while they’re here.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Galaxy Quest

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: 258 Days to go: 256

Movie #119: Galaxy Quest

There’s not enough love for Galaxy Quest in the world. It’s a super smart, super funny, super wry comedy about a group of actors from an old sci-fi television show (called Galaxy Quest) reunited for a fan convention nearly twenty years after its heyday that get pulled into a real live interstellar battle defending the last of the Thermian race from the evil Sarris (Robin Sachs). It’s a layered story of fantasy and adventure filled with plenty of inside jokes about space travel shows, about sci-fi fans, and about actors. Even Patrick Stewart likes it, so you know it’s good.

Jason Nesmith (Tim Allen) plays Commander Peter Quincy Taggart, and is the arrogant, swaggering star of the show. He loves the attention and the fame Galaxy Quest has afforded him, though he does get a bit despondent when he feels he’s not as respected and revered as he thinks. He even gets a little short with adorable fanboy Brandon (Justin Long, who is right in his wheelhouse of awkward enthusiasm here), who asks questions about the technical aspects of a ship that never existed. When Thermians, led by Mathesar (Enrico Colantoni), come to Jason requesting he negotiate with their tormentor Sarris, he thinks it’s just another paying gig until he travels in a slimy pod through a black hole back to Earth.

Allen and Colantoni both excel in their roles, unearned cockiness being something Allen has built a career on, and Colantoni getting to be as self-seriously silly as he can possibly get, funny, stilted voice and all. And Justin Long is perfect, as always. “I know there’s no beryllium sphere, no digital conveyor, no ship.” “Stop for a second. Stop. It’s all real.” “Oh my God, I knew it. I knew it! I knew it!”

The rest of the cast is delightful as well. It features Sigourney Weaver as Gwen DeMarco, who was on the show as sexy Lt. Tawny Madison — a busty computer officer who basically just repeated and paraphrased everything the computer said. “Look! I have one job on this lousy ship, it’s stupid, but I’m gonna do it! Okay?” Alan Rickman is the classically trained actor Alexander Dane — he played Richard III (“There were five curtain calls.”) — who has been forever typecast thanks to his Galaxy Quest role as Dr. Lazarus, an alien crew member with superior intellect. He wants nothing more than to regain a little dignity and recognition for his talent, which nothing to do with this show will ever afford him. (“You will go out there.” “I won’t and nothing you say will make me.” “The show must go on.” “Damn you.”) Daryl Mitchell is Tommy Webber, the grown-up who used to be the show’s token child prodigy, Lt. Laredo, and there is nothing better than the moment the Thermians expect him to drive their ship (modeled entirely on the Galaxy Quest ship, with flight controls based specifically on Laredo’s movements) out of dock and he scrapes it against the wall of the spaceport, leaving a huge mark along the outside. Then there’s Tony Shalhoub as Fred Kwan, who played Tech Sgt. Chen, but unlike Star Trek‘s Scotty, Fred is eerily calm and zen about everything that happens — shooting through space in a gel pod? “That was a hell of a thing.” — except maybe his blossoming interspecies romance with Thermian Laliari (Missi Pyle, who continues to be Up For Anything in every conceivable role. She is so fabulously game). And Sam Rockwell gets to ham it up as Guy Fleegman, an extra on the original broadcast (“It’s … another shipmate!”), certain he’s going to be the first to die on this actual mission, just like in his role on Episode 81. “Guy, Guy, maybe you’re the plucky comic relief. You ever think about that?”

No sci-fi trope is left behind in the film, from needlessly elaborate chompers in the middle of the ship (“This episode was badly written!”), to a countdown clock that stops at one second left because that’s how it always happens on the show, to adorable childlike aliens who turn into vicious monsters in an instant (“Let’s get out of here before one of those things kills Guy.”). There are alien planets that are somehow habitable for humans. (“Hey! Don’t open that! It’s an alien planet! Is there air? You don’t know!” “Seems okay.”) There’s a transporter system that doesn’t always work. (“The animal is inside out.”) There is super advanced time-displacing technology nobody quite understands. (“Activate the Omega 13!”) There are shields and guns and enemies getting shot out into space, and there’s a perfectly executed ploy to get the better of the bad guy at the end. (“What you fail to realize is my ship is dragging mines!”) It even has a mantra: “Never give up. Never surrender.” And for good measure, there’s a big spaceship crash, a somersaulting gunshot, and a ton of exuberant fans at the Galaxy Quest convention. It’s a roaring good time, all around.

And if you care to look for a message, it has one of those too. Jason Nesmith and crew are as big a group of phoneys as can be, and yet when they have people believing in them, they’re able to be just as heroic and brave as they’ve pretended to be in the past. It’s the affirmation that faith in oneself, and faith in others, can lead to unimaginable success. Honestly, what’s not to love about that?

MY MOVIE SHELF: Charlie’s Angels

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 #48: Charlie’s Angels

Here’s some interesting math. I’ve had a lifelong affinity for Drew Barrymore. Like the weird guy who did the My Date With Drew movie, only I never had any interest in stalking her. I can’t explain it, really, I just think she’s awesome and our birthdays are close together and I’d really like to hang out and be friends with her. Whatever. On the other side of that coin, I really detested Cameron Diaz ever since The Mask. Again, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but she was just so … false, maybe? I found her completely and utterly annoying. BUT! If you take my huge affection for Drew, add Lucy Liu, who I was kind of neutral-positive on (she wasn’t all that well-known at the time, though she’d had small roles in lots of things for several years), multiply it by my love of quippy, flashy movies (to the very concept of a Charlie’s Angels reboot-th power), and add the square root of at least half a dozen clever cameos plus a killer breakout performance by Sam Rockwell, it actually MAKES ME LIKE CAMERON DIAZ. Only in this one movie at first, but after the sequel it was completely cemented. Weird, right?

There’s not even anything to this movie, except quips and flash. The plot is somehow both convoluted and thin, and it apparently exists only to give its three stars the opportunity to vamp it up in crazy costumes. It’s silly and punny and charming and I absolutely love it. I love Matt LeBlanc as a big time action movie star (it’s almost as if Joey Tribbiani finally made it). I love Tim Curry as a pervy billionaire. I love Melissa McCarthy as the overfriendly office worker. I love L.L. Cool J (all the ladies love Cool James, you know) going meta in the opening scene by complaining about cheesy TV shows being made into movies and then turning out to be one of Drew’s costumes. I love Drew’s ex-boyfriend Luke Wilson and current (at the time) boyfriend Tom Green both showing up as romantic interests — Wilson as Pete, for Diaz’s Natalie, and Green as Chad for Barrymore’s Dylan aka Starfish. (Drew really seems like the kind of woman who becomes friends with all, or at least several, of her exes — which seems like a theoretically great way to be, though I could never pull it off with any kind of aplomb.) And I love love love love love Crispin Glover as the creepy thin man who escapes death at least twice in this movie alone (spoiler — he’s in the sequel).

The Angels themselves are also just perfect, as far as I’m concerned. Natalie with her dance sequences, Dylan’s transparent interest in Knox (Rockwell) (she wants to shake, not bake), and Alex constantly flipping her “goddamn hair” in slow motion. In the same way women like to tell you which Sex and the City character they are most like, I compare myself to these particular Angels, and I am all of them. I am a weird combination of flighty and brilliant and I can be very easily amused (Natalie). I’m an offbeat girl with a sometimes harder edge who likes the risk, sexiness and excitement of a bad boy but is always looking for a sense of belonging (Dylan). And I’m a matter-of-fact woman who knows what she wants and makes plans to go out and get it, sans bullshit (Alex).

I really enjoy a lot of this film: the singing yodel-gram girls, Dylan at the speedway in a va-va-va-voom jumpsuit with tons of ’70s porn star blonde hair and cleavage licking a steering wheel, Alex as a dominatrix efficiency expert, Alex as a masseuse with a french-tip  pedicure (the first time I’d ever seen such a thing, and suddenly it was huge), and Natalie in the driver’s ed vehicle with head-gear and Princess Leia buns, among other things. But let’s circle back around to the magnificence that was Sam Rockwell’s performance as his character Eric Knox reveals himself to be the bad guy. Ostentatious, sexy, and magnetic all of a sudden, he’s completely transformed from his previous bumbling aw-shucks guy. He dances, he flirts, he simmers. It’s spectacular. I really wish Sam Rockwell had an entire movie just to do that kind of thing in, but then I’d be afraid of getting another Confessions of a Dangerous Mind or something.

So somehow with a movie that has almost no substance whatsoever, I have found a million and one things to talk about, and could go on for quite some time about the campy fun of it all — I didn’t even touch on Bill Murray’s utter Bill Murray-ness — but instead I will leave you with a final thought: “The Chad is great. The Chad is great. The Chad … is stuck.”