MY MOVIE SHELF: Monsters University

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: 29 Days to go: 22

Movie #411:  Monsters University

(Apparently, the alphabet is hard. I blame my kids.)

For me, Monsters University was Pixar’s full return to true form after the regrettable foray into Cars 2. (There was Brave in between, which I liked fine, but which I won’t be discussing in length because I don’t own it.) It’s a terrific film, expanding on the universe of Monsters, Inc. by taking things back to a prequel and telling the story of when Mike (Billy Crystal) first met Sully (John Goodman).

The first twist in the film, a subverting of expectations, is when it’s revealed that Mike’s scare major roommate — and potential lifelong best friend — isn’t Sully at all, but eventual nemesis Randall Boggs (Steve Buscemi). Both are small, geeky, and perhaps not cut out for scaring (though Randall has an edge). Sully, on the other hand, is a huge dynamo, a legacy, and a cocky bastard. He sails through classes on the strength of his roar and his family name, not bothering to put any work into his craft. For Mike, this is despicable, as he has had to work for everything.

The two start out as adversaries, and through some circumstances in which Mike’s superior knowledge of the subject matter outshines Sully’s lackadaisical attitude, become bitter rivals. When Dean Hardscrabble (Helen Mirren) expels them from the scare program, their only way to get back in is to join loser fraternity Oozma Kappa and enter the Scare Games. If they win — a near impossibility, given their company — Hardscrabble has agreed to readmit them to the program. Through this, they become reluctant teammates, though they still struggle with putting aside their bitter feelings.

I really love the story for this movie, not only because it’s a decent plot structure (who would care if there was no conflict?), but because their friendship builds out of time and shared experience, of working together and seeing each other’s strengths. It’s a strong reminder that relationships (friendly or romantic) take work to sustain, to develop, to maintain. They come from breaking down the self-interest that we’re all born with and looking at life through another’s eyes. And this process is most open and pliable in college, when you’re newly grown and open to a whole new world of experience. And Mike and Sully both grow over the course of the film.

Mike is not a scary monster — has never been, as the prologue scene showing him on an elementary school field trip to the scare factory shows — and yet it’s his overwhelmingly positive outlook that convinces him to go after his dreams. This is a trait he delightfully displays in the first film, and it’s nice to know he comes by it organically. And while his dreams of becoming a scarer may never come to fruition, he still remains incredibly positive about his potential to do great things. Which is something you discover in college too — where your real gifts are, and where you can succeed in life.

Of all the Pixar sequels, so far, I actually think I like Monsters University the most. Not that the Toy Story ones are GREAT, but Monsters University really makes me belly laugh, over and over again. (Charlie Day as Art is my FAVORITE. And that Cute-Me Kappa picture is to die for.) As far as Pixar movies go, I really couldn’t ask for more.

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Big Lebowski

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: 80 Days to go: 55

Movie #360:  The Big Lebowski

How overrated is The Big Lebowski? It’s revered by people young and old, fans of its absurdist nature. It has a cult status, and any number of people — both expected and not — will quote it to you. But is it deserving of all that praise? I think not.

Now, to be clear, I don’t hate The Big Lebowski. I just don’t think it’s the greatest, funniest film of all time like some people seem to treat it as. I think it’s okay. Funny in parts, unnecessarily surreal in others (perhaps to seem more artistic — more important — than it actually is). Basically, it’s like the hipster of movies, overly self-aware of its own image and somewhat derisive of anyone not cool enough to “get it.”

That amount of manufactured coolness is tiresome to me. I’d rather just enjoy the funny parts of the film and ignore the rest — the result of which is that I’ve seen The Big Lebowski probably four or five times at this point, and I never remember a single signifying thing about it until I see it again. It goes completely in and out of my brain, leaving no mark whatsoever. This fact frustrates my husband no end, because he loves to quote it and I’m always looking at him like, “What are you talking about?!” Sorry, honey.

For my money, the best parts of the film are the characters, but not all of them are equally great. The top one unsurprisingly comes from Julianne Moore. As Maude Lebowski, the fierce, fearless, outspoken millionaire artist with the sensible intellectualism and dry monotone, Moore is fully committed to whatever goofy thing her character is doing, be it painting while swinging from wires or dance-bowling in an operatic viking costume. I would kind of love to see Maude as a mother, and if there ever was a call for a sequel, I hope it would be solely about that. I bet her child read Nietzsche at eight years old and was the human centerpiece of a very successful art installation at twelve. She probably grew up to be Sia.

On the other end of the spectrum, my least favorite character actually comes in the form of Jeff Bridges as the Dude. Bridges is just as committed to his role as Moore is to hers (or perhaps too committed, as he doesn’t seem to have really abandoned the role in the seventeen years since he took it on), but it’s the character in general I dislike. There is nothing — NOTHING — appealing to me about some gross, stoned slacker who dresses in Zubaz pants and writes checks for less than a dollar at the grocery store and who is not a 19-year-old college student. Be zen, be alcoholic, be whatever the hell you want. Just do it somewhere else. (Thankfully, I feel confident that the Dude doesn’t care about my opinion, and we can both happily exist in the world without ever having to interact or interfere with one another. It takes all kinds.)

John Goodman as Walter is kind of both one of the best and one of the worst characters, fully confident in all things at all times, to the point where he is a raging asshole more often than not. In a way, he’s the complete antithesis of the Dude, and yet the two of them are joined at the hip. Why is this? What draws these two together? Is bowling really that much of a uniting principle? Or is the Dude simply the only person drunk and passive enough to (mostly) withstand Walter’s constant Vietnam rants? Whatever the reason, some of the best moments in the film are when Walter’s militant forcefulness erupts all over the Dude’s previously uncomplicated life. Like with the “ringer.” Or the multiple times Dude’s car got trashed. Or Donny’s (Steve Buscemi) ashes all over the Dude’s face. That’s my favorite.

I also really like — in her tiny little role — Tara Reid as Bunny. She’s young, outrageous, and purposefully provocative before that became her public persona. She drives like a maniac, runs off on a whim, and sings “Viva Las Vegas” at the top of her lungs. Plus, as Walter predicted, she keeps all her toes. I kind of feel like Brandt (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and the Big Lebowski (David Huddleston) deserve her.

The movie is definitely funny. I like it fine. I just don’t love it. And that’s my prerogative. The Dude still abides, regardless.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Mr. Deeds

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: 191  Days to go: 192

Movie #186:  Mr. Deeds

I don’t get this movie at all. It’s supposed to be sweet but it falls pretty flat. It’s supposed to be funny but it’s not all that funny. And there are about a dozen plot points that never actually go anywhere.

Adam Sandler is Longfellow Deeds, a small town all-around nice guy who is the last living relative of billionaire Preston Blake (Harve Presnell). He inherits $40billion but for some reason he only gets it if he sells his shares of stock to the other board members of the company Blake owned. This part doesn’t make any sense, because the guy was obviously rich outside the company (he owns the New York Jets, for one, but that’ll come up later), but no explanation is given as to why he has to do this.

Winona Ryder plays Babe Bennett, a tabloid reporter for an Inside Edition-esque show who goes undercover as some helpless school nurse from Iowa in order to get close to Deeds. No idea why she has to do this either, but okay. She streaks her hair blonde for the purpose, though, so it must be really important. Of course, when footage leaks from their dates that only “Pam” AKA Babe could’ve taken, Deeds is completely dumbfounded as to how the tabloid show got it. He’s also apparently never read a book or seen a TV show, because Babe’s cover story is thin.

Now, Adam Sandler is dodgy enough in romantic comedies. I’ve only ever seen him successful in ones with Drew Barrymore, presumably because Drew is incredibly charming, the two have obvious affection for one another, and the pairing brings out the best things in Sandler. Winona Ryder, on the other hand, should not make romantic comedies. It’s not that she can’t be funny or that she isn’t an honestly talented actress, it’s just that she doesn’t have the particular type of comedy gene that works in romantic comedies — she’s not the right combination of sweet/jaded/wacky. If anything, Winona’s comedy genes are far more wry, erudite and self-deprecating, with a smattering of naiveté. It works in something like Mermaids or Beetlejuice or Heathers or even Reality Bites, but not in the kind of goofy-sweet films Adam Sandler attempts. It’s a poor combination.

Mr. Deeds features all sorts of odd casting, though. John Turturro is “very, very sneaky” butler Emilio, who is perhaps closer to Blake than anyone suspected — all possibilities of which are bizarre, no matter how you slice it. Peter Gallagher is ambiguously nefarious board member Chuck Cedar, who it is clear wants Deeds to sell his company shares for malicious purposes, but those purposes are never really clarified, nor is it clear why the acquisition of companies Cedar supposedly wants would require all the company’s fifty thousand current employees to be fired. But I guess conflict has to come from somewhere? It’s really dumb.

Conchata Ferrell is also around, mostly as a lovely friend and coworker from Deeds’s hometown, who near the end is needlessly turned into a punchline about having wanted to be a man. And Steve Buscemi wears horrible contact lenses that give him huge, wandering eyeballs that are frankly unsettling. But, boy is it hilarious when he doesn’t know where he’s looking! (Warning: Not hilarious at all.)

The movie is scattered and ambiguous at best, really. There’s the whole black foot Deeds got from “wicked bad frostbite” that is little more than an oddity on its own, but when seen in conjunction with Emilio’s foot fetish it’s as if the writers honestly couldn’t think of anything funnier than feet. Then there’s the Jets quarterback who comes in cussing about his contract, about which Deeds beats him up and then fires him, but nothing really comes of it at all except for the quarterback being forced to call and apologize by his father. It’s not a loose end, per se, but it feels like an incredibly elaborate set up for such a weak pay off. And of course, Chuck Cedar conspires with the tabloid show host (Jared Harris) to — do what, exactly? Expose that Pam is really Babe? I’m not sure how that’s supposed to help either the show or Chuck, but the movie paints it as if it does.

There is just time after time after time that the film makes incredibly dumb or nonsensical choices — even for a silly comedy engineered to be that way — and it honestly ruins the character of Longfellow Deeds who is actually a sweet, honorable and trusting man who is, truth be told, sort of a refreshing stretch for Sandler. Why the filmmakers would undermine that, though, is beyond me.

I don’t get this film at all, and I’m not sure why we have it.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Monsters, Inc.

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: 194  Days to go: 199

Movie #183:  Monsters, Inc.

I would watch a musical about the events in Monsters, Inc., which makes me really glad they put a production of it (“Put that thing back where it came from, or so help me! So help me!”) post-credits. Such a clever little addition.

Pixar movies are full of little payoffs like that, from “outtakes” to inside jokes. It’s one of the elements that makes them such a  high quality production. Monsters, Inc. is no exception. In my opinion, it’s definitely one of the best of all the Pixar properties.

Based on the long-held fears of children everywhere that there are monsters in their closets, Monsters, Inc. says yep, there are. And those monsters live in their own world that needs the screams of children to power it. The power company employs “scarers” to enter the closets through portal doors, collect screams, and be gone without touching any toxic children. Their best scarer is James P. Sullivan, AKA Sully (John Goodman) and his coach/assistant/best friend Mike Wazowski (Billy Crystal). The duo is on track to break the all-time scare record, despite rival Randall (Steve Buscemi) being hot on their tails, when Sully happens upon Randall working after hours and a little human girl (who Sully dubs Boo, voiced by Mary Gibbs) makes her way into the monster world.

The film offers a new twist and unique perspective on an idea that’s been around for ages, and it makes the monsters fun, lovable and relatable — giving them a wide swatch of personalities and characteristics. And despite being an animated character, Boo is just about the cutest little girl ever. In fact, if I ever have cause to say Mike Wazowski, I have to say it the way Boo does. (Her “kitty” is also fun.)

The nefarious plan behind Randall’s scheming is even worse than anticipated, but the solution turns out to be a hundred times better. (The comedy routine has even been turned into a pretty great attraction at Disney World.) The conspiracy is long-reaching and the chase is both thrilling and funny, but the overall film is about the friendship of Mike and Sully and how it is challenged by their different priorities but emerges stronger because of their mutual love and respect.

There’s some great supporting voice work in the movie, from James Coburn as Mr. Waternoose, Pixar favorite John Ratzenberger as the Abominable Snowman (fabulous reference) and human squeak toy Jennifer Tilly as Celia. But Mike and Sully are definitely the best things about the film, with Crystal and Goodman infusing the characters with real heart and frustrations and passions. Their chemistry is electric and their friendship is strong and authentic. And I particularly love, despite his seeming aggressive personality, how loving and optimistic Mike is. He’s super affectionate with Celia and never upset when his picture is obscured on magazines or TV. He’s so happy to be part of something, he never gets down by things that others would be bummed about. I love him.

Now if I could only get this paperwork filled out.

 

MY MOVIE SHELF: Con Air

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: 301  Days to go: 290

Movie #72: Con Air

Con Air was actually the first movie I saw with my previous husband — we bonded over “Sweet Home Alabama.” Some people might call those two items “clues,” but we’ve already established I was completely fucking stupid at 22. It all worked out in the end, anyway, though, because we have a great son together, my ex is a good dad, and even though he’s not my favorite person, I wish him mostly well. And, to be clear, I neither bought nor kept Con Air out of some sort of sentimental attachment to that first viewing.

I’ve held onto Con Air all these years because, frankly (obviously), I hold on to all my movies. Sometimes I look up on my shelf and don’t see one I know I used to own, but I have no idea how it got lost, since it’s really rare for me to part with them under any circumstances. (I suspect it might be one of those breath-stealing gremlin-trolls from Cat’s Eye. Those things were creepy as hell.) As to how I wound up buying Con Air in the first place, I don’t know. I suspect it has a lot to do with John Cusack and Steve Buscemi.

1997 was a bit of a resurgence year for John Cusack, and a much-appreciated one at that. He managed to transition in that time from his former cute, crushworthy teen/twenty-something roles into full-fledged adulthood. And something like Con Air is not anything one would’ve expected to see him in — brandishing weapons, being a smart yet kickass U.S. Marshall, going on honest-to-god action movie car chases against criminals. It’s a fun diversion from a lot of the more hyper-intellectual things he usually does. And it winks at maybe his goofy sense of humor, because I find it hard to believe anyone took this movie seriously, except maybe Nicolas Cage.

Steve Buscemi, on the other hand, has always done offbeat stuff, and his portrayal of Garland Greene in Con Air is definitely that. It’s this ridiculous parody of Hannibal Lecter, with the crazy restraints and the face mask and the eerie, intelligent calm. He didn’t eat a census taker’s liver, but he wore some woman’s head as a hat. He makes biting observations about those around him. He doesn’t kill the little girl (which, the entire scene with the little girl is easily my favorite of the film), despite the early implication that he might. And he manages to slip away into the casinos of Vegas without a trace, a lucky shooter indeed.

The rest of the movie is absolutely absurd. I mean, right from the start. What veteran in Alabama is going to get jail time for defending himself against a drunk maniac with a knife and his two friends? I feel like even the worst lawyer in the state would manage to get Cameron Poe (Cage) off for that. Secondly, the DEA agent they sneak onto the plane is supposed to gain a criminal’s trust and manage to get some sort of taped confession in the span of a single flight? It seems like they really could’ve come up with a better plan than that. Poe’s friendship with Baby-O (Mykelti Williamson), meanwhile, is based in Sno-Balls (not a euphemism), but he risks his life for it with the worst plans ever, one after another. Good thing, then, he’s able to divert attention from his clear convict-subverting motives with some cheeky quips directed at black militant Diamond Dog (Ving Rhames).  And while I appreciate that the lady guard wasn’t brutally raped by Danny Trejo’s Johnny-23 (clearly, they didn’t want the movie to get too dark, as that tends to undercut the jokes), it’s pretty funny that murderous psychopath Cyrus the Virus (John Malkovich) is morally opposed to it to the extent that he is. Honestly, there’s just nothing in the movie that holds up to any sort of rational examination, so it’s best if you just laugh at it and leave it there. I recommend the part where Cameron SuperPoe charges the cockpit while getting jumped and shot at — he barely flinches and doesn’t alter course at all — and the one when Cyrus takes a giant wooden stake through the ankle, pulls it out, and doesn’t even limp while continuing to fight Poe on the top of a fire engine — despite shattered bones and almost certainly bleeding out, it takes crashing through a raised walkway and landing on live power lines to kill him.

I suppose I would be remiss not to also mention the very funny Dave Chappelle as Pinball, but honestly everything he does in this movie grosses me right the hell out. Or maybe it’s just the whole gross mouth thing he does, but that one thing is disgusting enough to dampen my appreciation for him. Sue me.

At the end of the day, of course, Cameron Poe has, in fact, “saved the fucking day,” as promised, but it’s still pretty ridiculous. The only thing I can’t decide, though, is if Cage knows it’s preposterous and likes to play camp, or if he considers himself a serious action star and sees his character as an honest-to-god hero. It’s a mystery of our times.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Airheads

The long and the short of it is, I own well over 300 movies on DVD and Blu-ray (I’ll know for sure how many at the end of this project). Until 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 #9:  Airheads

I’m no music historian, but in my life, in 1994, right after Kurt Cobain’s suicide (the movie was filmed before and released after), grunge had peaked and rock was coming back into vogue. Not the hair metal of the late ’80s and early ’90s, but rock with a harder, more serious, darker edge. White Zombie was on the scene, Soundgarden had matured into their Superunknown album, Stone Temple Pilots had hit their sweet spot, The Cranberries were about to crush it, The Offspring were kicking ass, and Green Day had just completely flipped the script with Basket Case. (I was 19, so take my music taste with a grain of salt.) Into this thin window of time, Airheads came out in theaters.

It was a time when Brendan Fraser (Chazz) was a heartthrob, thanks in no small part to MTV VJ-phenom Pauly Shore’s film career and most especially a flick called Encino Man. It was a time post-Reservoir Dogs, but well before Steve Buscemi (Rex) was a renowned and celebrated actor. Adam Sandler (Pip) and Chris Farley (Officer Wilson) were still young Saturday Night Live standouts, both a couple years from their breakout blockbuster films. Beavis and Butthead made a voice cameo. MTV News anchor Kurt Loder was contractually obligated to appear as himself in every single movie having to do with music. And Amy Locane (Kayla) was still the poor man’s crazy Christina Applegate.

With all these things in play, the movie itself is sort of inconsequential, really, and that’s a good thing because it’s pretty dumb. Chazz, Rex and Pip make up a band called The Lone Rangers (that it’s the plural of something that’s, by definition, solo, is a running joke that only barely works) who are having no luck getting heard by anyone in a position to make them successful, so they break into the Rebel Radio station and wind up accidentally taking everyone there hostage with toy guns filled with pepper sauce in an attempt to play their demo on the air. Like I said, it doesn’t matter. It kind of intentionally doesn’t matter, in fact, as the so-called killer song in question isn’t even heard until the closing scenes, in the background of the actual action. The movie itself is more of a conglomeration of the pop culture fads in my life that year, and as such is much more meaningful to me as an artifact of that time.