The Button Down Blog

Generally speaking, I don’t like sequels. Most sequels seem to be made to squeeze another ten bucks out of the movie goer, and that annoys me. So when Toy Story 2 came out in 1999 I stayed clear. I’d liked Toy Story quite a bit and I didn’t want to taint the memory of a good film with a sub-par sequel.

Imagine my surprise when I found out that Toy Story 2 is one of the extremely rare sequels that is actually better than the original.

This time around, Woody finds out that he was the star of a 1950s kids show after Al from Al’s Toy Barn kidnaps him (it’s a little complicated) to complete his collection. Buzz and the gang set off on a daring rescue across town, through a busy street, and on an adventure through a toy store (Al’s Toy Barn) before narrowly escaping the clutches of the Evil Emperor Zurg.

Meanwhile, Woody meets the rest of Woody’s Roundup Gang (Stinky Pete the Prospector, Jessie the Yodeling Cowgirl, and his faithful horse Bullseye) and contemplates his fate as Al prepares to sell the whole set to a museum in Japan. Woody was already feeling rejected after Andy couldn’t take him to Cowboy Camp because of a rotator cuff injury. Now he faces the prospect of living rest of his life under glass.

There are lots of good laughs in Toy Story 2, but like most (all?) Pixar films, there’s a solid story woven between the jokes that elevates the entire film. From the beginning, Woody is unsure of his role in Andy’s life. After being “shelved” by Andy’s mom, he fears that it’s all over, that his best friend has left him behind.

It’s a brilliant story for the toys to play out; brilliant because it doesn’t take any mental gymnastics for the toys to worry about the issue, and because it’s something that the kids and the adults in the audience have all gone through. I’m sure parents identify strongly with this, but I think it has a broader range than that. Rejection, real or imagined, worries all of us. We experience it on the day we’re born and we experience it (in some form or another) until the day we die.

It’s weird when someone you know starts to get successful. You’re so happy for them and even proud that other people are finding out what you already knew. But then…well, the relationship (even if it’s just chatting every once in a while) starts changing. Their circle of friends grows and you stay the same; not better or worse necessarily, but the same as you were before they started getting successful.

So they’re talking to their new and possibly more successful friends, or maybe just people they have more in common with, which is completely reasonable. That’s the kicker in all of this; nobody’s doing anything wrong, but even still you can get kind of left behind sometimes. Heck, if you don’t react to their work or their family (or whatever they’re successful in) with as much enthusiasm as the new crew does, but the same amount as you did before, sometimes they can perceive that you have a problem with them.

I’m getting melancholy just writing this, but it’s a real issue that people have to face. Through Woody and Jessie, especially Jessie, the issue is explored in a kid-friendly way. I say ‘especially Jessie’ because one of the best, most powerful moments in the movie was hers. The song in which we find out about Jessie’s Real Special Kid punched a hole right through all the walls that I’ve built up around the issue and made me cry.

There, I said it. I cried like a BABY. A TINY LITTLE CRYING BABY. And unless you have a cold, cruel heart of stone, you’ll cry too.

All right, enough of that sentimental junk. Let’s move on to something else. Toy Story 2 is a riot. While the A story plays out with the Roundup Gang, Buzz Lightyear leads his own gang on a mission to rescue their friend. And what a gang it is. Just the thought of getting Tim Allen, Jim Varney, John Ratzenberger, Wallace Shawn, and Don Rickles (DON! FREAKING! RICKLES!) to voice these characters just had to make the folks at Pixar giggle with delight. The five of them were a great comedic team every time they were on the screen.

Buzz’s B story takes an almost-dramatic turn when he meets not only a whole wall of Buzz Lightyear toys, but his arch-nemesis the Evil Emperor Zurg to boot. There’s some pretty funny stuff along the way, including a guided tour of the toy store by none other than Tour Guide Barbie. The placement of the funny certainly wasn’t accidental. With Woody’s story getting downright heartbreaking, the audience needed something to give them a breather from time to time.

Anyway, I’ve prattled on long enough. Everything turned out all right in the end (mostly) and they all (mostly) lived happily ever after. Mostly.

Toy Story 2 continues to be another huge success for Pixar and Disney, both financially and creatively.There’s talk of another sequel, and while it’s still at least a couple years away, I have some of the same apprehensions as I did with this one. Hopefully Pixar won’t let me down. They do have a pretty good track record after all.

Until next time, insert your own witty tag line here! Hit it Wheezy!

Last December I was looking through the Netflix listings for Christmas movies to add to my queue (214 to go!), and ran across this movie that I’d never heard of. Joyeux Noël was just released in 2005 and the reviews were quite positive, so I figured I’d give it a go.

What I got when I sat down with it was nothing like I’d expected. This film is about events that take place at and depend upon Christmastime, but it certainly isn’t a Christmas movie.

The film revolves around events that (“inspired by actual events” grumble grumble) took place during World War I. On Christmas Eve, soldiers from the French, Scottish, and German trenches agree to call a temporary (and extremely unofficial) truce for Christmas. A Christmas Mass is held, bodies are exchanged and buried, and general festivities ensue. Next day, they grudgingly go back to war having vowed not to speak of this to their superiors, which totally works out for everybody involved.

From the very first frame of Joyeux Noël, it is clear that we were going to be taking a good look at the nature of war. The director ( Christian Carion) made the remarkable decision to start the film with a montage of schoolchildren from different countries standing in front of a classroom and reciting wartime rhymes that extol patriotism through the demonization of the enemy. It’s quite effective in pulling us into the reality of the subject.

I also appreciated the fact that Carion had the actors speaking the proper languages instead of everybody speaking English (or French, in his case). Though some folks have problems with subtitled films, the use of English, German, and French allowed there to be an intangible distance between the armies even when they were together on Christmas. This distance was only closed during the Christmas Mass, offered in the Latin that all would know.

The language barrier also provided a wonderful moment when a local cat appeared and it turned out that each camp had given him a different name and was sure he liked them best. It was humorous (and apparently a true story), but it illustrated the unnatural situation they found themselves in.

And the music is wonderful. Music is the form the armies’ first friendly contact happens, with the Scots singing a simple Christmas carol that everyone in all the trenches knows. As the armies realize their mutual celebration, a German tenor, having been drafted into the army at the beginning of the film (and, through some logistical contortions, is able to spend the night with his lover (Diane Krüger, above) in the trenches) rises to sing Silent Night as he crosses the corpse covered battlefield carrying a small Christmas tree.

Later, the sole feminine voice in Joyeux Noël is heard intoning a lovely new Ave Maria (from Philippe Rombi, the film’s composer) at the impromptu Christmas Mass. To say that this piece is beautiful is an understatement. Shivers went up my spine as Natalie Dessay’s voice came from the lips of Diane Krüger (above) as she stood before the congregation of three warring factions. The fact that Krüger knew how to act like she was singing (a skill that most of Hollywood hasn’t learned) only made the moment sweeter.

As much as I enjoyed the film, there were some major problems. The film’s middle section is beautiful. Just wonderful stuff. But the first third or so is a bit clumsy as we’re introduced to a variety of people in different countries with different opinions of the war. There are so many characters to introduce that all of them get a bit shortchanged in the end. The more subtle nuances of each character’s motivation is left for the audience to fill in, and I’m not sure we’re given enough information to do so.

For example, there are two Scottish brothers in the army, the younger taking his lead from the older. When the older brother is killed (in a development that could be seen a mile away) the younger becomes unmoored without his brother’s guidance. And while Carion tries admirably to make us care about this young man’s nervous breakdown, it really isn’t given enough space to warrant it. I think if the number of major characters had been cut back by at least a third, the smaller bits would have had enough room to be more significant.

The greater problem, though, is the last 45 minutes of the movie, during which it becomes a pretty heavy handed anti-war movie. After a while I wanted to ring up Carion (who also wrote the screenplay) and assure him that we all get it. I won’t spoil most of the endings, but some of them came right out of nowhere. One that I took special exception to was that of the Scottish priest.

The idea that he would turn his back on the church, and on God from the looks of it, because his bishop gave a propaganda filled sermon is a bit of a stretch. That it happened literally three minutes after he told the bishop that the Christmas Mass was the most important Mass of his career made it completely unbelievable.

Still, Joyeux Noël is a fair film. If the problems I mentioned above had been addressed even by half I’d be begging my friends to see it. As it is, this is a movie to see once and put away. Some memorable performances were given, most notably (to me) by Daniel Brühl, as German Lieutenant Horstmayer and Guillaume Canet as French Lieutenant Audebert. There was some great work between the two and I look forward to seeing more from them. Even if it is subtitled.

Most of us have an example of a teacher who was more than just an instructor, who went beyond that to become a mentor and once in a great while, a friend. It’s a rare relationship, and the character of one such teacher is explored in 1939’s Goodbye, Mr. Chips. As far as it goes, it’s a good film. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go far enough for me.

The thrust of the story is how Mr. Chipping learns to let his guard down and learns to become a friend and mentor to the children of the prestigious Brookfield boarding school, where he teaches. Instrumental to this change in the stoic and reserved teacher are his colleague Max Staefel (played quite well by Casablanca’s Paul Henreid) and the love of his life, the beautiful and charming Katherine. Fast forward thirty years or so and, after a brief stint as headmaster during the war, Mr. Chips (as he’s now known) reflects on his wonderful life with his surrogate family at Brookfield.

I suppose my high expectations are to blame, but I kept wondering when the really good stuff was going to start. I expected more from a film that everyone speaks so reverently of, but there really isn’t much more there. Every time it feels like a deeper level is about to be explored, we move forward in time, usually by at least a decade. For example, when Chips loses his life’s love (for reasons I won’t tell you) we get about two minutes of quiet loss and then dash forward, leaving behind the depth of emotion that was about to surface.The film spends a brief time looking at World War I, but after we learn a quick lesson about the horrors of war and how friendships may extend past that boundary, we’re off to the future.

Understand, I’m not saying Goodbye, Mr. Chips is a bad film. It’s just that it felt like it was on the cusp of being great but never quite reached that level. The performances of Robert Donat and the lovely Greer Garson are wonderful, though I’m not a fan of Donat’s dottering old man, cackling and jumping and chewing up the set. He was much more effective in Mr. Chips’ earlier, more reserved personality.

Sam Wood’s direction is serviceable, but perhaps he lacked the space to tell the deeper story I was expecting. (Or maybe he just didn’t have my expectations in mind when he made the film.) An entire lifetime is a lot to get through in two hours, after all.

Perhaps the reverence with which people treat the film has less to do with the actual production and more to do with honoring the teachers and mentors who have touched the lives of the audience. The flaws (as I see them) are overshadowed by the universal nature of Mr. Chips’ role. Mine was a second grade teacher who like Mr. Chips seemed to know and love all of her students and who, if we were to meet on the street today, I’m sure would remember me (fondly, I hope) and my little second grade quirks.

In that sense, then, Goodbye, Mr. Chips is a success. It’s been remade several times, once with Peter O’Toole in the lead role. It’s been a cinema favorite for nearly seventy years, and will be as long as mentors continue coming forward to help shepherd the next generation of children.

Which reminds me, there’s one thing I really didn’t like about this film. Terry Kilburn (at left), who played several generations of Colley boys, gives the last little line. Holy crap, did that kid freak me out.

Seriously.

I had nightmares.

Season 12, I’m Goin’ to Praiseland
“Goodbye, Mr. Flanders!”

Since starting this blog I’ve discovered that I love suspense movies. LOVE them. Can’t get enough of them. I’m not sure exactly why I never knew that. Maybe it’s because you don’t see them made that much anymore. I suppose it’s much easier to throw some gore and horror on the screen than to construct a taught film to keep the audience on the edge of their seats. Sadly, that means movies like Sorry, Wrong Number are harder to come by.

The story unfolds as Leona Stevenson (Barbara Stanwyck, below), bedridden daughter of a millionaire, sits in bed attempting to get ahold of her husband (Burt Lancaster) by telephone. After abusing the operator for awhile, she is mistakenly connected to an open line and hears two men scheming about a murder to be committed that night. But before she can find out who they are or where, she’s disconnected and cannot be re-connected. The remainder of the movie sees Leona trying to find her husband and the soon-to-be murderer, or at least the soon-to-be victim, before it’s too late.

What a great setup. Think of the possibilities with a subject who, confined to one room with one connection to the outside world, learns more and more about a murder that hasn’t yet happened but will very soon, with no one believing her or able to help her. The tension, emphasized marvelously with the use of shadow and circling cameras, makes me smile even now.

And it was a pretty good movie, too.

A couple problems kept Sorry, Wrong Number from being great. First, Stanwyck’s acting is a bit over-the-top for my taste. It was eye-rolling material for the first half of the movie, but as we came closer to the climax and Leona became more desperate, the performance became more and more appropriate.

Secondly, too much of the film was shown in flashback. Regularly moving the focus from that what’s going on in that one bedroom almost neuters the effect of her desperation. Instead of the audience sharing Leona’s panic, we spend time learning about the her and her husband’s past. Their courtship and other details of their lives are fitted between horrific calls and desperate pleas. Rather than focusing like a laser on what’s going on in that panicked moment, the film relaxes into the past, and while we learn important information from the past, there certainly must have been another way to do it that achieved a tighter feel.

I say that because I know it was done tighter. Sorry, Wrong Number started life as a 30-minute radio play with Agnes Moorehead (left, later of Bewitched fame) in the lead role and little other cast. After success on the radio, writer Lucille Fletcher expanded it to three times its original length to fill out a film’s timing (accounting for all the flashbacks). In the radio version, we know very little of Leona’s husband and spend all of our time in the bedroom as she dials and redials (and redials) the operator. Moorehead is fabulous in the lead role and repeated the performance on the radio several times over twenty years.

My suggestion would be to go with the radio program for the original version of the story. podango (a site that old time radio fans should explore). It’s about 30 minutes long. Take a listen by going here.

Without giving away the ending to everyone who didn’t listen to the audio (you know who you are), I will tell you that it blew my mind that they had the guts to do it. I sat there, eyes like saucers, thinking Did they just do what I think they did? Blew. My. Mind.

I love that feeling.

More so than with any other movie, whenever I tell people I haven’t seen A Christmas Story, their reaction is almost universally “Wha?!? ZOMG WTF YOU HAVE TO SEE IT!” I’m not sure why I never saw it. I just didn’t. I checked with the family to see if maybe they rented it years ago and I was sick that day, but my parents and one sister hadn’t seen it either. So I brought the DVD over about a week before Christmas and we all sat down to watch it together.

What an amazing movie. It centers around Ralphie, a nine-year-old boy in 1940ish Indiana who wants a BB gun for Christmas, in a story told in voiceover by Jean Shepherd, Ralphie’s older self and writer of the film. The rest of the characters, his parents, brother, friends, bullies, and his teacher all exist for the sole purpose of telling Ralphie’s story. Such focus is certainly part of the movie’s success.

One of the strengths of A Christmas Story is its use of universal themes to connect with the audience. For example, Ralphie doesn’t want just any BB gun. He wants “a Red Ryder BB gun with a compass in the stock, and this thing which tells time.” He puts the specific description in his schoolwork; he asks Santa for it by name; he puts an ad for it in his mother’s copy of Look magazine.

I had really specific Christmas wishes too, and even though I’m from a different generation and my list never included anything like a Red Ryder, the story rings true to me because of that common experience of wanting something SO BAD that you could TASTE it. My lists were more of the video game variety, and oh how I remember that glorious Christmas when we got Super Mario Bros. 3. I’ll never forget it, and I’ll never forget the heartless way my parents made us go to church before we played it. Like it was Jesus’ birthday or something. (He’d've understood, I just know it.)

As Jean Shepherd ambles masterfully through Ralphie’s Christmas story, he touches on other things too. Ralphie has parents who manage to be real even while they have some fairly stereotypical traits. Shepherd never names them (Mom is just Mom and Dad is The Old Man), but they’re just as important to Ralphie’s life as they should be, but he’s starting to need his space too. I loved the way Mom knew when to punish, when to comfort, and when to cover for Ralphie. His little brother is a nuisance and relies on Ralphie, perhaps a little more than he wants.

Then there’s the completely separate world of Ralphie at school. His teacher, the dowdy Miss Shields, holds a place of reverence, but not so much that he doesn’t try to get away with stuff. His relationship with his friends is awkward, the way kids are at that age when they’re figuring out that how to deal with people they like who aren’t their family.

Pre-puberty but post-little kid, Ralphie’s at an age where he has one foot in both worlds. His fascination with The Old Man’s major award, “the soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window,” is interrupted only by Little Orphan Annie on the radio. He knows enough about grade fixing that he tries to bribe Miss Shields, but he wants to go see Santa Claus at the department store. He wants to help The Old Man change a tire, but isn’t old enough to say the F-dash-dash-dash word. A Christmas Story walked the line on that characterization exceptionally.

Finally, there’s the daydream sequences. The movie wouldn’t have been as wonderful without them. Ralphie saves his family from cartoonish criminals (with his Red Ryder, of course), goes blind from soap poisoning (to make his parents sorry for washing his mouth out with soap), and my personal favorite, writing the best Theme the world has ever known. It’s poetry. Sheer poetry. The movie, I mean.

I’m trying to think of something negative to say about A Christmas Story, but I’m coming up empty. I hate fawning reviews, but this is one good movie. My new Christmas favorite, in fact. If you haven’t seen it, ZOMG WTF YOU HAVE TO SEE IT!

srsly

A slight break in purpose today. Reno 911!: Miami isn’t important or influential. It’s simply a movie that I was looking forward to, and since I’ve got this blog thing sitting here collecting dust I figure I might as well give my opinion of it.

First of all, I love the TV show Reno 911! almost as much as I love Little Debbie Marshmallow Supremes. For the uninitiated, Reno 911! is an improv comedy show produced by three members of The State. The basic gist is that it’s COPS except with really, really, really bad cops. My telling it isn’t going to help you too much, so do yourself a favor and get the first season on DVD. It’s very good.

Sadly, the same cannot be said for the movie. So much is lost in the transition from TV to film. The direct parody of COPS is lost (though they did get to use the theme song at one point), leading to a somewhat odd movie, trying for a vérité look and feel, but also wanting to look like a big motion picture. Secondly, instead of feeling natural as in the show, the interaction between the officers and the perps seems distracted. Perhaps the problem is that the short bits of improv were fighting for screen time with the plot. Robert Ben Garant (Travis Junior, right) is listed as director of the film, but I really can’t blame him for its faults. I think this is just a case of having the right idea in the wrong medium.

That’s not to say that there aren’t good things about the movie. There are lots of cameos and guest stars, including every member of The State, which is pretty cool. They also got Danny DeVito, The Rock, Paul Reubens, Paul Rudd, Patton Oswalt, Mindy Sterling, and a whole truckload of semi-regulars from the series. Ooh! One of the DVD extras is a long uncut bit between Mindy Sterling and Patton Oswalt. Make sure you watch that. It’s great stuff.

The major players were masterful as usual. In fact, that may be part of the problem; the movie feels too much like the series. I’d suggest starting with the TV series and catching the DVD if it’s your cuppa tea. In the end, the movie is okay, but only if you’re a fan of the show.

Before I close up, I’d like to talk a little about a certain Ms. Kerry Kenney-Silver. For my money, any scene with her is one to watch over and over. Her comic timing is second to none, and she’s willing to do ANYTHING for a laugh. Her scenes are always at the top of my list of favorites. She is, in short, faaaabulous.

Exhibit A is Season 1, episode 109. That’s the one where Officer Trudy Weigel (Kenney) tries to commit suicide. Except . . . not. Among other things, this episode sees her milk the resulting suicide watch so Dangle will spoon her, marvel at plastic pearls while investigating the break in of a craft store, and tell her Mom how nice everybody’s treating her. (That last part is a lot creepier than it sounds.)

Exhibit B is the following video. This is one of four promos presented as real Public Service Announcements before movies that were out right before Reno 911!: Miami. They’re all included on the DVD (unrated version). I firmly believe that this one should play before every movie, or at least the ones rated PG13 or higher.

(Language warning! Headphones on, cube dwellers!)

Now come on. Tell me that’s not the work of a genius.

This is one of the movies I’m almost ashamed of not having seen. I’m not really sure why I never saw it. It’s quite possible that my parents never rented it in the 1980s because of my sister’s averse reaction to Bambi. (She still refuses to rewatch it.) Whatever the reason, it’s 2007 and I’ve finally seen Old Yeller. It’s a pretty good movie, too.

The story begins in the 1869 as Jim Coates (played by Fess Parker, the future Daniel Boone) prepares to leave his family in their Texas frontier home for a three month cattle drive. His wife Katie (left, with Travis) is left with their two sons. Travis is of course expected to be the man of the house with young Arliss left to be the annoying little kid with anger management problems. A stray dog arrives on Travis’s first day and warms the hearts of all who meet him, though they never get around to giving him a proper name.

Old Yeller came along right around the time that Disney was producing a lot of nature films, and that influence is evident here. There are several scenes that are included for the sole purpose of showing the magnificent surroundings. It’s kind of cool to see, but there’s some fairly clumsy storytelling that goes with it. For instance, there’s the scene where Travis (in front of green screen) marvels at the chipmunks while a deer he was supposed to be hunting sneaks up on him. It was a rather awkward way to show the dual role he had to take.

And that’s the real story in Old Yeller, the adjustment Travis makes as he moves from childhood to maturity, with Old Yeller serving as his teacher. In the beginning of the film, Travis is short-tempered, bossy, and makes every attempt to act like his father. His mother does a good job of nudging him in the right direction, but Travis, ever the strong-willed pre-teen, responds by pouting and throwing fits.

Yeller comes along to pick up the slack while Travis learns that maturity isn’t something that you can act (believe me, I’ve tried), it must be genuine. Yeller immediately takes over the protector role, then slowly releases it back to Travis as he comes to understand the responsibility. First Yeller saves the family from the attack of a bear while Travis looks on. Then Yeller saves Travis from a wild boar attack. Then Travis, in his first go round in the protector role, saves Yeller from the result of the attack. Finally, Travis mirrors Yeller’s first act of selflessness and saves the family from the rabies-infected Old Yeller.

Crap. I should have warned you about that. But we all know how it ends, right? I mean, it’s not like I’m spoiling the ending by saying that Travis shoots the dog. Everybody knows that, even if they haven’t seen the movie.

What we tend to forget, though, is that this first act of Travis’s maturity was not a simple matter of pulling out his rifle and shooting that darn dog (as he had previously threatened). It was a heart-wrenching, painful, adult decision. Tremendous acting from Tom Kirk (above) in that scene, by the way. It was very well done, and that performance is probably why this film is so revered.

Old Yeller does have some problems, of course, like young Arliss, who was a bit too much in need of a paddlin’, and the creepy daughter of the neighbor, who I kept expecting to say “I’m not going to be ignored, Travis.” Still and all, it’s a movie that’s well deserving of its reputation and place in American pop culture.

(Old Yeller comes packaged with the sequel Savage Sam. The sheer amount of awful crammed into the sequel made me vomit in my mouth a couple times. Now let us never speak of it again.)

Season 3, Dog of Death

Also:

Season 14, Old Yeller Belly

I’ll be honest with you, I was a bit down after I watched all those dramatic films from a few weeks ago. A man can only take so much drama. So when it came time to queue up a new movie, I decided I needed a good old fashioned comedy. Not some romantic comedy date movie, a real comedy. So I did what any self- respecting child of the eighties would do. I rented Three Amigos.

Now this is comedy. Steve Martin and Martin Short, two great tastes that taste great together. And Chevy Chase. . . nah, we’ll deal with him in a moment. All in good time.

Here’s the synopsis in 50 words or less: Three silent movie stars get fired. A woman from a Mexican village sees their movie, thinks they’re real heroes, and asks for their help. They think she wants to pay them them to put on a show. Hilarity ensues.

Oddly enough, hilarity really does ensue. All three actors play to type and have awesome names. Steve Martin (an old favorite of mine) is Lucky Day, the frustrated leader surrounded by idiots. Martin Short is the clumsy one, this time a former child star named Ned Nederlander. And Chevy Chase is Dusty Bottoms as played by … well, Chevy Chase.

Most of the movie comes from a simple misunderstanding (the meaning of the word infamous), and with masters like these, the movie holds onto the funny for the whole time. The chemistry the three have is wonderful, and I think a lot of the funny comes from the fact that they’d worked together so much and knew each other’s beats and when to get out of each others’ way. I love it when comedians know how to do that. It’s a skill all its own.

Randy Newman did the music for Three Amigos, and he did a beautiful job of it. Two pieces in particular, My Little Buttercup and Blue Shadows have stuck in my brain like Randy Newman songs tend to do, and for once I don’t mind it. My cube-mates think I’m a bit loony (what else is new), but doggone it, I like humming the songs. They should just be relieved that I don’t do the dance like I do at home…I mean, like I don’t do anywhere.

I haven’t said much about the plot so far, and to tell the truth, the plot is almost irrelevant. Sure, there’s stuff going on with Lucky falling in love with Carmen (played by the beautiful Patrice Martinez), and the townsfolk are terribly frightened by the horrible, evil, murdering, villainous monster infamous El Guapo, but the plot is really just a punchline delivery system, and it gets out of the way when it’s time for the joke.

Now, let’s talk a little about Chevy Chase. I’m not a fan. He always plays the same guy, and his delivery is always a self-conscious “Hey, I’m doing something funny!” thing, and that just grates on my nerves. Somehow, though, it works in Three Amigos. In fact, there were a couple laugh-out-loud moments from Chevy, and no one was more surprised than me. His standard delivery actually worked in the Invisible Swordsman scene (great fake-out punchline, by the way). And the scene in the desert when he was gargling the water was hilarious. I watched it a couple times. Very good work.

There are so many other good things I could say about this movie, and so many more great bits, but I’ll spare you. Watch it for yourself and be prepared for a silly, wild ride.

Oh, and on my 40th birthday? I want a sweater.

I’ve been putting this review off for about a month now. When I first watched A Beautiful Mind, I liked it a lot. The story was engaging and moving, and I appreciate the way Ron Howard didn’t go too far into Sappyland. The big reveal (I won’t spoil it) took me by surprise, and that was good. The effects were … well, effective and generally low-key, which I appreciate. The story’s resolution was a reasonable one.

The problem, I suppose, is that the further I got from watching it, the less I liked it.

Let’s get the biggest problem out of the way first. When I’m watching a film that’s been advertised as biographical but not a documentary, I don’t expect it to be 100% true. It wasn’t made to be a historical document, so I try not to judge it by that standard. At the same time, I do expect more than a passing similarity between the movie and its subject. And that’s what we got in A Beautiful Mind, a passing similarity.

I’m hardly a John Nash scholar, but I knew enough about him (and had heard enough grumblings about the movie) that I did a very little bit of looking on the internet. Screenplay writer Akiva Goldsman took out whole truckloads of real life drama (Nash’s first son, his homosexuality in the 1950s, the divorce from his wife) and put in new stuff (intense competition amongst his peers, Wheeler Labs, that pen ceremony) to make it look better. I also thought it odd that they never gave his son’s name in the movie. Even when he was an adult, the son has no name. (Someone correct me if I missed it.)

Moving past that, though, there were other problems. There’s a calculated feel to the whole affair. The golden glow through which the entire film is viewed, the overly-lush musical score, the sheer earnestness of the film. It’s all designed to win Oscars, and I cannot understate how much I hate that. I wish directors would just tell the story the best they can, and forget about the important awards that, in the end, mean right next to nothing.

All right, enough complaining. There were, after all, some things I liked quite a lot. I loved that the we joined the story with John making friends (and enemies) at Princeton and then after he moves on, they slowly fade into his past. This would have been easy to get wrong, either by having the friends disappear abruptly or stick around too long.

While the music was a bit weepy at times, I appreciated the choice to accompany the big chase scene in Parcher’s car with a smoother non-action scene score. That was one of my first tip offs that something was not what it seemed, and I appreciate the innovation.

My only complaint about the principal cast is that Jennifer Connelly (right, with Russell Crowe) didn’t have enough to do. Loathe as I am to mention the Oscars, she absolutely deserved recognition for her work in A Beautiful Mind. The middle of the night scene in the bathroom was wonderfully done, and Howard made a smart move by filming it in profile instead of head on. That could very well have ruined the scene.

In the end, A Beautiful Mind is an okay film, but it could have been great. I guess that’s my biggest issue with it.

Season 15, My Mother the Carjacker

(It’ll be a few years before the season’s released and I can get a screencap, but Homer sees codes in the newspaper like John Nash did.)