Scott's Movie Comments

G.I. Jane

Over the years Ridley Scott has given us some movies with powerful female characters who have become virtual pop culture icons. These include Alien’s Ripley and, of course, Thelma & Louise. Will the press-dubbed “G.I. Jane” be yet another? Or is this merely one more Demi Moore movie that no one wants to see? Certainly the timing of this flick’s release couldn’t be better, what with women in the military, sex in the military, and gays in the military all still prominent in the headlines. The story deals with the first woman allowed to train as a Navy SEAL, but don’t look for the thoughtfulness of last year’s Courage Under Fire. This is a Hollywood movie through and through, which means that Moore is not only equal to all men but is invariably superior to them and also to the cynical politicians who put her in this position in the first place. The plot ultimately resembles An Officer and a Gentleman and Ridley’s brother Tony’s Top Gun. But in those flicks it was Richard Gere and Tom Cruise who had to learn to grow up. In G.I. Jane, it’s everyone except Moore who has to learn their lesson. The film is thus in spirit the feminist equivalent of the Rambo movies. (Seen 30 July 1997)

Galaxy Quest

It’s hard enough assigning stars to movies, but so far I have managed to do so without qualifying them. But I suppose in this case I need to clarify that my three-star recommendation (you know my rating system by heart, right?) may apply only to that segment of earth’s population (94 percent by my last count) which are Star Trek fans. Okay, hedges aside, this flick is largely another vehicle for Tim Allen, and as in The Santa Clause, he plays an ordinary guy who has lost his way but through incredible events finds himself challenged to live up to a popular legend. The formula still works fine, but the true delight is the all-so-knowing satire of the Trek franchise and its rabid devotees. Allen is suitably Shatner-esque as a hammy egotist living off past glory. Alan Rickman displays Nimoy-ian frustration at his lifelong typecasting as an extraterrestrial (plus a bit of Patrick Stewart-ish noblesse oblige). Sam Rockwell radiates that the same deliriousness he showed in Box of Moonlight and The Green Mile as the bit player who, in a fit of Scream-style self-awareness, realizes that he is the expendable crew member. And Sigourney Weaver’s presence is more than a mere Nichelle Nichols/Majel Barrett riff since her busty, blonde communications officer is such an unlikely contrast to her Ripley character of the Alien movies. Writer David Howard and director Dean Parisot display a wonderful knack for lampooning people (in this case, well-known actors and their emulative fans) in a way that is dead-on and yet affectionate. I was not surprised to see that Parisot’s previous credits include the most underrated TV satire of modern times, the wonderfully droll Bakersfield P.D. (Seen 20 January 2000)

Ha-Gamal Hame’ofef (The Flying Camel)

How could you not like a gentle Israeli comedy that depicts a grudging but growing friendship between an eccentric old European Jew and a pushy, younger Palestinian garbage collector? (Almost like a Hebrew version of Chico and the Man!) Old Professor Bauman lives in a shack surrounded by a virtual junkyard. He is obsessed with the past and resents anything too new. Phares determines that Bauman’s shack is on his father’s old orange grove and, while Bauman is away, moves in and makes himself at home. And, just in case, this doesn’t provide enough cultural and religious friction, they soon find a trailer parked on the lot which houses Gina, a Catholic novice from Italy who is attractive enough to turn men’s heads even in her habit. (By the end of the movie, it’s pretty clear why the innocently uninhibited Gina will never make a good nun.) The plot is driven mainly by Bauman’s obsession with re-building an old statue of his father’s, a camel with wings. But the heart of the story is about people of different backgrounds learning to respect each other and to get along somehow. And we can’t get enough of that message these days! The funniest bit, to my mind, is when Bauman drags Phares to a Passover dinner which turns out to have a definite feminist bent. (Seen 25 May 1995)

Gamera: Daikaiju Kuchu Kessen (Gamera: The Guardian of the Universe)

You can tell how this movie is going to go in the very first scene. The captain of a tanker in the middle of the ocean says to one of his officers something like, “I just can’t sleep, thinking what if something were to happen to this shipment of plutonium.” Interestingly, nothing much actually does happen to the plutonium, but plenty else does. Gamera: The Guardian of the Universe is the first Gamera movie in 24 years, marking the 30th anniversary of the first Gamera movie. The thing about monster movies is that they are either so crudely done that you can laugh at them or else they are so well done technically that you are blown away. This movie tries to have it both ways. The monsters look more or less like they always did, which is to say, silly. But the surrounding effects take advantage of 1990s technology. But if the mood is right and it is late enough at night, you can still get into it. But enough of that. Bring on the new Godzilla! (Seen 8 June 1996)

Gangs of New York

There is a strangely morbid but sentimental fascination that New Yorkers have with their own city that can be perplexing to those of us who don’t live there. This movie is a case in point. As Martin Scorsese picked up his Golden Globe for directing this film, he repeated how long it had been a dream of his to make it. So, I guess this makes Gangs of New York to Scorsese what Once Upon a Time in America was to Sergio Leone. It starts with a bloody battle, like Saving Private Ryan, and has an cataclysmic ending with Leonardo DiCaprio at the center of things, so that makes it like Titanic. But it’s more. It’s an Irish immigrant drama with DiCaprio in the Tom Cruise role and Cameron Diaz in the Nicole Kidman role. Daniel Day-Lewis achieves a minor miracle by taking a character that is essentially a caricature and infusing him with life. DiCaprio, on the other hand, takes a character that is essentially a cliché and infuses him with Leonard DiCaprio. Along with Woody Allen, no director is more associated with NYC than Scorsese, and this film is clearly a (bloody) valentine to the Big Apple. The final minute or two features a view of the Manhattan skyline that morphs from the 1860s to the late 20th century, and it is quite moving. Too bad it’s so brief and comes so late, since the rest of the film plays like some post-apocalyptic sci-fi flick in which civilization has broken down, like, say, the Mad Max movies or, dare I say it, Escape from New York. (Seen 23 January 2003)

Garage

This is the movie that followed Once as a surprise Irish winner at a major international film festival. It won the Art et Essai award at Cannes a couple of months ago and turns out to be the rural flipside of director Lenny Abrahamson and writer Mark O’Halloran’s previous collaboration about society’s urban detritus, Adam & Paul. Garage plays mostly like a gentle, warm-hearted comedy—boosted by the considerable talents of Irish comedy institution Pat Shortt, who plays a grown man of limited intellect and more than a little innocence and who relies on the kindness of friends and neighbors to get by. An old schoolmate has employed him forever in a rundown filling station outside of town, providing him with both a home (such as it is) and some income. “The town looks after its own,” says Josie, in one of those self-satisfied platitudes that usually turn out to be true in rural areas but not always. You see, there is another side to life in small places, not-so-subtly demonstrated by a friend, with a bothersome litter or unwanted puppies, who deals with the problem as people in the Irish countryside are wont to do. In that moment, Josie instinctively understands what it means to be part of nature’s excess. As a relative of an approximate real-life counterpart to Josie, I am here to say that Shortt has got the character spot on. It’s a brilliant acting job that, ironically, may be best appreciated by those who don’t live in Ireland, i.e. those who aren’t familiar with Shortt and his repertoire of comic characters. The fact that we know Shortt so well is the only thing that gets in the way of his performance. As for the film itself, because of its ultimate message, it is in the strange position of being easy to enjoy but a little hard to like. (Seen 14 July 2007)

Garfield

At one point in this first screen adaptation of the ubiquitous comic strip cat, the titular feline gives a sly knowing look at the audience, as he gives out about a famous cat on TV being, well, ubiquitous. It was inevitable that Garfield would eventually find his way onto movie screens, and it is just as well that he waited until the technology was such that a CGI Garfield could give us the familiar fat cat that we know from the funny papers, interacting with live actors. And, while much of the cynical flavor of the comic is preserved (thanks in large part to brilliant voice work by Bill Murray), it was also inevitable that, for the sake of movie conventions, Garfield and his human Jon would also have to be sentimentalized. This is basically one of those Disney (spiritually, not literally) family comedies, with Garfield playing the role usually given to Tim Allen or Jim Carrey, learning to adjust his priorities. The movie is harmless fun and leaves us with an interesting (for these politically charged times) final moral message: electric shock torture is justified when directed at someone who is mean to animals. (Seen 07 October 2006)

Garfield: A Tail of Two Kitties (Garfield 2)

The adaptation of Garfield from comic strip to movie screen is just about as good as it can be. The CGI strikes the right balance between reality and the pussy we know from the funny papers. And Bill Murray was born to give the self-absorbed feline voice. About the only thing that doesn’t travel well from newsprint to celluloid is the love life of Garfield’s master, Jon. He is meant to be the perpetual dweeb who never gets a second date. But movies demand that he get a girl like Jennifer Love Hewitt. The sequel’s plot has our heroes traveling to England, where they get involved in a dispute over a manor’s inheritance, involving a host of barnyard creatures, giving the film a strange Babe-meets-Gosford Park kind of vibe. I would like to report that the English setting gives rise to a host of delightful cameos from our favorite British actors, but I’m afraid that, on screen, we get the sort of English actors we are accustomed to seeing in U.S. sitcoms (Roger Rees, Jane Carr). We do better with the voices of the animals, with the likes of Tim Curry, Bob Hoskins, Jane Horrocks, Richard E. Grant, Vinnie Jones and Rhys Ifans. Strangest of all is the role of the Wile E. Coyote-like villain, which seems to have been written for John Cleese but is filled by, of all people, Billy Connolly. In the end, the movie is amusing if not magical. You may not come away believing a cat can talk, but you will be hungry for lasagna. (Seen 5 August 2006)

Gattaca

Any movie that brings together Alan Arkin, Gore Vidal, and Ernest Borgnine would be worth seeing for that fact alone, but this feature by Andrew M. Niccol is also thoughtful, intriguing, and well-made. We’re in George Orwell/Aldous Huxley territory, but it’s all the more chilling because this world doesn’t look all that different from our own and we’re clearly on the threshold of being able to genetically engineer and monitor ourselves in the ways depicted in the film. Ethan Hawke is a genetically “deficient” (i.e. normal) man who passes as superior through old-fashioned means: he works hard at it. His deception gets him into Gattaca (sounds like Attica), which is sort of a futuristic NASA that seems to be run by a conservative insurance company. His co-workers are all genetically perfect, so they have faces and bodies like Uma Thurman’s. Jude Law (Bosie in Wilde) is on hand as another obnoxious elitist twit. More than suspenseful, Gattaca is thought-provoking and haunting. Michael (The Piano) Nyman’s score enhances the mood. (Seen 6 November 1997)

Gaudi Afternoon

In a way, the real star of this film is Antoni Gaudí, the neo-Gothic Catalonian architect who put his mark on Barcelona. Every time one of his structures comes into view in this movie, it gives the picture a definitely needed lift. The film is something of a tribute to Gaudí, not just in the title, but in its complicated, twisting style, winding its way through the narrative and leaving you (for a time anyway) baffled as to where it’s headed or how it’s going to come out. The director is Susan Seidelman, and if you liked her Desperately Seeking Susan, then you will likely enjoy this too, since it has a similar story of an ordinary woman drawn into a series of serio-comedic adventures involving an odd assortment of characters. The cast is first-rate. Judy Davis is an American ex-patriot living in Barcelona and doing translations of Latin American novels. (Her current one is called La grande y su hija.) Recent Oscar winner Marcia Gay Harden looks rather like Elvira, Mistress of the Night, playing the strange woman who offers her an odd job. And Lili Taylor returns to the manic sort of personality she exhibited in I Shot Andy Warhol but as a character that results in her looking like a young Linda Hunt. After a fairly strong first half, the film lags toward the end, once the central mystery has explained itself ad infinitum. But Davis is always interesting to watch, not to mention Barcelona and the work of Antoni Gaudí. (Seen 29 May 2001)

Gazon maudit (French Twist)

I read where France has submitted French Twist for an Academy Award nomination. This amazes me because French Twist is merely one of those amusing but forgettable low-brow comedies that the French seem to enjoy for some reason. (We are, after all, talking about a people who revere Jerry Lewis as a god.) It’s almost as if the United States were submitting Dumb and Dumber for a French award. French Twist has all the main elements of gallic humor: 1) infidelity, 2) people becoming very angry and waving their arms at each other, 3) supposedly titillating sexual situations, and 4) infidelity. The “twist” is that some of the sex involves two women. This way the film can appeal to three audiences simultaneously. Straight men can laugh at Laurent’s predicament because “thank God it’s not me!” Straight women can laugh at how silly the men are. And gays can laugh at how silly the straights are. This was the third of three films I saw at the Seattle International Film Festival’s Women in Cinema series. The cast includes Victoria Abril (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, High Heels) and Josiane Balasko (Too Beautiful for You) who also directed. (Seen 31 January 1996)

The General [1926]

This is considered Buster Keaton’s greatest film, although personally I liked Steamboat Bill, Jr., which he made two years later, a bit better. Based on an actual incident during the War Between the States, Keaton plays a train engineer who is refused enlistment in the Confederate army because of his useful occupation. (Nobody bothers to tell him this is why he has been refused.) But he gets his chance to be a war hero anyway (and, of course, impress his girl) when his train is stolen by the enemy and he single-handedly undertakes to get it back. The plot is a pretext for one sight gag after another, all arranged around trains in constant motion. As always, the elaborate setups and carefully orchestrated choreography, calculated to make everything appear random and accidental or just plain lucky, is a miraculous spectacle to behold. Even in an age where stunts can be enhanced digitally and nothing is impossible in film, it is hard to imagine that computers could generate the fluidity and complexity of Keaton’s stunts. It is all impressive enough to our modern eyes. What must audiences of the time have thought, when cinema was still so young? And all through the elaborate proceedings, at the center of it all, is Keaton who, no matter how much chaos is going on around him, always has that deadpan look about him. He may get worked up about the loss of his beloved train or, secondarily, losing his girl, but nothing really perturbs him. He and that face of his are immortal. (Seen 11 July 2009)

The General [1998]

Once when my future Irish bride was driving me through Dublin’s Rathmines district, she happened to mention rather casually that “a guy was killed on this street by the IRA” in 1994. Now a movie has been made about that guy, and it has garnered a director’s award for John Boorman at Cannes. Martin Cahill was a flamboyant gangster—the sort who would self-confidently break into homes at night and then unblushingly stand in the dole queue the next day. As chronicled by Boorman in glorious black and white, Cahill had a Roddy Doyle sort of childhood followed by a John Belushi sort of adulthood. Indeed, his nemesis (Jon Voight, who collaborated with Boorman on 1972’s Deliverance and who sports here a fine Kerry accent as a cop) is nothing so much like a calmer version of the apoplectic dean in Animal House. Boorman romanticizes Cahill shamelessly, but Cahill is clearly the perfect role for character actor Brendan Gleeson (I Went Down). The film wants to portray Cahill as a victim of changing times, but the truth is all too apparent: Cahill was a major catalyst for the changes that did him in. (Seen 29 May 1998)

Georgia

Georgia is a “small” film about two sisters who have both embarked on singing careers. One is talented, successful, well-adjusted and has a nice family. The other is aimless, talentless, alcoholic and a drug abuser. (And you just know which one we will be spending more time with.) To give you an idea of the premise, it’s kind of as if Ginny Reilly and Courtney Love were sisters and Ginny had lots of fans and Courtney had none. This film picked up an Oscar nomination, but ironically it wasn’t for Jennifer Jason Leigh’s flashy, no-holds-barred portrayal of self-destructive Sadie but rather for Mare Winningham’s understated performance in the title role as supporting actress. The movie is essentially a character study (written by Leigh’s real-life mother apparently based on Leigh’s real-life sister) and presented episodically. The relationship of the sisters is compelling and well dramatized, and there are a number of good actors in supporting roles. Soggy Seattle and its environs make an appropriate backdrop for a rather depressing story. (Seen 13 February 1996)

Get Bruce

This documentary about Hollywood comedy writer Bruce Vilanch will have you rolling in the aisles. Never mind that Vilanch is one of the most-sought-after gag writers in the industry, you can’t help but laugh just looking at his mischievous grin peering out from under an impossibly curly bush of hair. When Donny Osmond met him, he told Vilanch he looked like a Muppet and he was right. Then there are Vilanch’s vast collection of tee-shirts, which proclaim things like “My other body is in the shop” and “Will work for liposuction.” Virtually every comedian and quite a few actors sing the praises of this man for the camera. His forte seems to be those quips that celebrities make at awards shows, and we get a large sampling of the best ones. His successes and occasional failures run the gamut from Billy Crystal’s hilarious song-and-dance numbers at the Academy Awards to Bette Midler’s serenade to Johnny Carson on his last Tonight show to Ted Danson’s disastrous turn in blackface at Whoopi Goldberg’s Friars roast. Only toward the end of the movie do we get an insight into the demons that drive Vilanch, when this gay man speaks emotionally of the many friends he has lost to AIDS. Worth the price of admission all by itself: Robin Williams’s impromptu rendition of Jack Benny and Rochester in The X-Files! (Seen 16 May 1999)

Get Real

A real crowd-pleaser from start to finish, this feature debut by Simon Shore is more or less everything a teen romantic comedy should be. Its strengths are Patrick Wilde’s witty script and the movie’s extremely engaging lead actor, Ben Silverstone, who is endearing and attractive as a gay sixteen-year-old. Despite being so young, Silverstone’s character is extremely unconfused. He’s already quite sexually active and secure in his identity, although he keeps his orientation and “love life” secret from everyone except his closest friend. Complications ensue when he makes the transition from anonymous encounters to a real romance with a popular older student. Mostly, the situation is played for laughs, and there is one particularly funny scene involving the two boys slow-dancing with their dates at a student ball. Inevitably, since this is a “gay-themed” film, the issue turns out to be not so much the romance but the politics. And by the end, we literally get a lecture emphasizing the usual message: being in the closet is bad, being out is good. (Seen 28 May 1999)

Get Shorty

I guess it shouldn’t be surprising how many movies are about, well, movies. After all, that’s what filmmakers know best. Get Shorty falls into this category. Sure, it has John Travolta playing a hood somewhat similar to his role in Pulp Fiction, but don’t be fooled. This flick really has more in common with The Player (including a few cameos and walk-ons by uncredited stars and other people in the business), although it is not as dark as Altman’s film. It is directed by Barry Sonnenfeld (best known for the Addams Family movies) and features Gene Hackman who does his usual great job, this time as a sleazy Roger Corman-esque director. This film is very easy to take, and it is one of those refreshing movies where smart people come out on top and stupid people generally get what is coming to them. (Seen 1 November 1995)

Getting to Know You

Director Lisanne Skyler co-wrote Getting to Know You with her sister Tristine, and its a labor of love that paid off. Their idea was to make an omnibus film of Joyce Carol Oates stories. They took their idea to Shadowcatcher Entertainment, which had produced Smoke Signals, and were told that the movie would be more salable if the stories could somehow be combined into one, à la Slacker or Chain of Desire. And the result has turned out wonderfully. It is clear why Smoke Signals had impressed the Skyler sisters, as the running theme through Getting to Know You is child/parent estrangement and guilt. Sixteen-year-old Heather Matarazzo (of Welcome to the Dollhouse) has just the right quality as the lonely central character who has been carrying a secret. Michael Weston makes a good impression as the young man who chats her up in a bus station and engages her with his endless stories about the strangers who come and go. And Bebe Neuwirth, an accomplished stage performer, shows that she is more than just Frasier’s ex on TV with her accomplished turn as a sad and bitter wife and mother. (Seen 20 May 1999)

Ghost Town

At one point in this delightfully screwball comedy, Ricky Gervais’s dentist asks Greg Kinnear’s lately deceased adulterer why he is in formal attire. Kinnear doesn’t bother to answer, but film buffs know the answer. This is one of a number of nods to the classic 1937 fantasy comedy Topper, which starred Cary Grant and Constance Bennett. This is one of those rare comedies that openly acknowledge their forebears but do not rely on the memory of them instead of on originality. And for once the joys of the movie derive less from special effects or manipulation but mainly from the dialog. The banter between Gervais and the wonderfully quirky Téa Leoni is so strange, oddly timed and enchanting that we would expect that it was written by some indy auteur type. Instead it was dreamed up by powerhouse screenwriter David Koepp (who also directed), who usually pens for the likes of Steven Spielberg (War of the Worlds, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull) and Ron Howard (Angels & Demons), and John Kamps, whose previous writing credits are for kids movies (The Borrowers, Zathura: A Space Adventure). Leoni is one of those screen dames whom we just don’t see often enough in the movies. She may have been meant more for the era of Carole Lombard and Myrna Loy than for our current epoch of plastic entertainment. For years she has been criminally under-used or misused, although her talents have shined in movies like Flirting with Disaster and You Kill Me and her little-seen 1992-93 sitcom Flying Blind. Gervais, on the other hand, is the most unlikely of romantic leads, but he is the consummate misanthrope, which works perfectly for this flick. His delivery of sarcastic zingers is so dead on that he nearly wins us over to his deliciously sour point of view. (Seen 13 November 2009)

Girls Town

My high-concept shorthand for Girls Town is: Thelma and Louise (and a friend) meet MTV’s The Real World. First-time director Jim McKay goes for a cinéma verité style; his actors contributed to the script in a workshop, resulting in the impression that some scenes are made up as they go along. The story deals with three high school students who must come to grips when their close friend Nikki commits suicide with no apparent warning. They eventually learn that this act may have been precipitated by a rape that Nikki suffered. In their feelings of sorrow and guilt, they wind up becoming something of a vigilante group, not only punishing Nikki’s presumed rapist but at least one other male chauvinist pig. Included in the acting ensemble is Lili Taylor (I Shot Andy Warhol, Cold Fever) who seems to be doing a John Travolta imitation. It is explained that Taylor has been held back more than once, to explain why someone her age is still in high school. Presumably, her friends were held back as well. (Seen 7 June 1996)

Gladiator

This movie gives every indication of wanting to be a high-minded historical epic celebrating the human spirit, like Stanley Kubrick’s classic Spartacus. But it’s really a bloody, escapist revenge movie in the vein of Mad Max. Its redeeming qualities include Russell Crowe, who makes a dandy lead. His voice, looks and demeanor suggest a young Richard Burton. That evocation of a vanishing generation of talented, hard working and hard playing British and Irish actors is appropriate, given the presence of a very old-looking Richard Harris and a fine performance by Oliver Reed (who died during the filming), whose role eerily requires him to make lots of speeches about death. Hopes for the production were high, given director Ridley Scott’s track record with Blade Runner and Alien, but the action scenes here look like a video game. Where lots of action movies use slow motion for effect, Scott oddly speeds things up at crucial times, so that it’s hard to follow what’s going on. Is this a ploy to boost eventual DVD sales because people will have to buy them to be able to see the action scenes at a reasonable speed? As for the plot, well, the villain is a draft-dodging head of state with inappropriate sexual longings, who consolidates his power with a populace distracted by games and mindless entertainment and who can be neutralized only by a group of wise senators. Who wrote this anyway? Ken Starr? A strange thing: during much of this flick there are red petals floating everywhere. Apparently, DreamWorks had a lot of them left over after American Beauty. [Related commentary] (Seen 5 May 2000)

Go

What a great idea. Take Shakespeare’s classic tragedy King Lear and set it in present-day Los Angeles as a slacker comedy. Of course, Go doesn’t do actually that, but I’m sure that some movie will real soon. As for this movie, it is Doug Liman’s follow-up to his previous paean to Los Angeles nightlife, Swingers. I gather from the film that the word “go” is now slang for that most exhilarating (and, for young males, brief) of human experiences, which more or less captures the rousing feel of this youthful, urban, shaggy dog story. Inevitably, the plot structure is borrowed from Pulp Fiction and also inevitably, it involves the sort of characters who think that it is a really cool idea to rip off a drug dealer or to shoot a Las Vegas bouncer. But its unabashed preoccupation with sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll make the whole thing a lark, something like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off meets Jackie Brown. John August’s script is quite amusing, and director Liman provides great visuals to go with it. Standouts in the cast include former child actor Sarah Polley (The Sweet Hereafter), who is definitely all grown up now, and William Fichtner, who looks unnervingly like Christopher Walken. Best-known cast members Scott Wolf and Jay Mohr play ironically on their TV fame. The insight on the “Family Circus” cartoon strip alone is worth the price of admission. (Seen 11 April 1999)

God Said, “Ha!”

A couple of years ago tragedy befell Julia Sweeney, and I’m not just talking about her movie It’s Pat. Amazingly, out of it all came a one-woman stage show, which then became a one-woman “concert movie.” Ordinarily, you wouldn’t expect that watching someone standing around for an hour and a half talking about a couple of people with cancer to be very fun, let alone outright hilarious, but somehow Sweeney pulls it off. There is pathos and humanity in her first-hand account of her brother’s illness and her own, but what will stick in viewers’ minds is her dead-on descriptions of what it is like for someone in their 30s suddenly to have her parents living on top of her. The generational cultural shock here is every bit as recognizable as it was in Albert Brooks’s Mother. Personally, I was relieved to learn from her anecdotes about her news-junkie father that I am not the only NPR listener to be intrigued by what Cokie Roberts wears during her morning chats with Bob Edwards. This winner of the 1998 Golden Space Needle Award from the Seattle International Film Festival also includes a couple of subtle and poignant reminders of the unusual number of tragedies that have befallen alumni of Saturday Night Live: a character voice clearly borrowed from Gilda Radner and a passing reference to Sweeney’s mentor, Phil Hartman. (Seen 5 April 1999)

Gods and Monsters

Surprisingly, neither of the people who read these rantings of mine has been so rude as to question me as to how in my Oscar predictions I could reasonably opine that Ian McKellen was deserving of the Best Actor award for Gods and Monsters—before I had even had a chance to see the movie! Well, some things you just know. And now that I have seen it, I know I wasn’t wrong. McKellen is simply a treasure, and the role of English-born filmmaker James Whale in his final days is perfectly suited to him. He is so much better here as a young man’s (kinder, gentler) preyer and seducer than he was in Apt Pupil that it’s not even worth making a comparison. As for director Bill Condon, he is totally deserving of his Oscar (for screenplay) as well. While the story has more than a little in common with Sunset Boulevard, Condon is wise to downplay that angle and to instead concentrate on weaving in a most touching way the themes and images from Whale’s Frankenstein movies. Thanks to this film, we will never look back on those Universal “horror” classics quite the same way again. (Seen 31 March 1999)

Godzilla

The reason all the critics have been dumping on poor Godzilla is that the (other) critics are all grown-ups and for some reason they think that Godzilla was made for them! All it took was one glance at the audience in a Tralee multiplex to discern that the average age for appreciating this film was only marginally higher than that of the crowd seeing the purple dinosaur next door. Sure, this movie has a singular lack of tension, dramatic or otherwise, and the leads (Matthew Broderick and some woman) are so bland that you feel like tearing into a package of Wonder Bread for a thrill. But the real problem is that we have all been indoctrinated by Steven Spielberg (notably with Jurassic Park and its sequel) to expect something more intense—sometimes too intense for rugrats. Anyway, the special effects are good, and the kids cheered when Godzilla was winning and grew quiet when he suffered his setbacks. The main difference between this flick and Roland Emmerich’s earlier success, Independence Day, is that while watching Independence Day we actually wondered what we would do if flying saucers really did appear in the sky. Watching this movie, it never occurs to us once to wonder what we would do if Godzilla showed up for real. (Seen 17 July 1998)

Gold in the Streets

Imagine if the characters on the TV series Friends were young Irish people who were mostly in the U.S. illegally and you’ve got a little bit of the flavor of Gold in the Streets. It’s also a bit reminiscent of Barry Levinson’s classic young buddies flick Diner. This is an Irish production directed by Elizabeth Gill and based on a play called Away Alone. Since the characters are Irish, they drink a lot, smoke a lot, swear a lot, and get homesick a lot—when they’re not in full-blown depression over the state of their lives. The group’s de facto leader is Richard Harris’s son Jared, who played the titular victim in I Shot Andy Warhol. The point of view is the doe-eyed innocent Liam (who looks strangely like Andie MacDowell), just arrived from the Irish countryside hoping to make his fortune in New York City. As melodramatic as this flick gets, it’s not on quite the same level as, say, El Norte as an immigrant drama. All in all, America is a grim place for these lads. The only one of them to get any shot at all at the vaunted “American dream” does so only by trading on his Irish-ness for rich, sentimental Yanks. (Seen 20 March 1997)

The Golden Compass

It’s official. I am a terrible father. I dragged my seven-year-old to this movie which, depending on your country, the powers that be say she shouldn’t be seeing for five or six more years. On top of that, it will probably make her grow up to be an atheist. But, of course, my real concern was: is she old enough to deal with seeing Nicole Kidman in full ice queen mode? Actually, it was the Munchkin who dragged me to the movie. Authority is somewhat inverted in our household. I will confess to knowing next to nothing about the English author Philip Pullman or the series of books which has spawned this film and its coming sequels—other than what I have gathered from the media. Pullman’s aim is allegedly to argue against either religion in general or Christianity in particular. Call me ignorant, but I’m not sure that a story full of miraculous acts, mystical prophecies and a young messiah is the best way to me to argue against Christianity. Sure the religious figures in the movie seem to have been borrowed from The Da Vinci Code and, as in that movie, they seem a throwback to the age of the Medicis. But, as one radio wag I heard pointed out, if the people who run your church are like the Magisterium, you probably should be in a different church anyway. Taken strictly as a movie (which it is, after all), The Golden Compass is a fine entertainment—the kind that movies were originally invented for. Young Dakota Blue Richards is a dandy heroine, the plucky kind of girl who advances quickly from facing down neighborhood bullies on her street to facing down vicious warriors and talking polar bears in frozen wasteland. Thanks to the state of the art of technical effects, this fantasy world comes alive in a way that wasn’t really possible just a few short years ago. In that regard—in fact in almost every regard—this movie is like The Chronicles of Narnia, right down to its attendant religious kerfuffle. My cynical side makes me suspect that this is not entirely a coincidence. Just as it seemed to me that The Bourne Ultimatum and Live Free or Die Hard were essentially the same movie but aimed at different politically-inclined market segments, the Narnia and His Dark Materials movie series seem like they’re the same flicks but aimed, respectively, at the religious and irreligious. [Related commentary] (Seen 16 December 2007)

Goldeneye

There is something comforting in being told the same story over and over. That’s why children make you read their favorite books to them again and again and correct you if you get anything wrong. Practically every James Bond movie is the same exact film, so it becomes a question of: how well did they tell the story this time? (Answer: the best in quite a while.) In watching Pierce Brosnan’s delayed maiden outing as 007, one is reminded that Bond really was a direct precursor to contemporary action movies, and the series can only benefit from the latest technology. (The opening sequence is great, and there is a pretty cool car-tank chase through St. Petersburg later on.) But, as one NPR reviewer has noted, cultured Europeans like Bond are now usually the bad guys in American movies like Die Hard where the hero is a beer-guzzling blue-collar type. In a way, James Bond is the cinematic equivalent of Playboy magazine. What once seemed cool and sophisticated is eventually revealed as pure adolescent fantasy. But, hey, it’s still fun to go back and take a peek every now and then! (Seen 17 November 1995)

Goldfish Memory

Not to worry, this isn’t some memoir about a beloved childhood pet. It’s a sophisticated modern romantic comedy along the lines of They All Laughed or About Adam. The title refers to one character’s oft-repeated assertion that a goldfish can only remember the previous three seconds, explaining why it doesn’t die of boredom swimming around a bowl. A similar principle ostensibly explains why people keep falling in love despite all their previous bad experiences. So the film is in the end a celebration of the trials and tribulations and highs and lows of all kinds of lovers. Writer/director Liz Gill is scrupulous in ensuring that every gender combination of lovers is included, with many of the characters willingly switch-hitting as they move from one partner to the next. In this film, Catholic Ireland is an extremely open-minded and politically correct place (or at least its capital is), where same-gender relationships raise fewer eyebrows than serial dating the student body of Trinity College. Much of the film’s pleasure comes from watching attractive people combining and recombining in intimate relationships, but its theme of romantic hope triumphing over hard experience is also very welcome. Sean Campion is particularly convincing as the professor who finds, nearly from one day to the next, that he has become too old to keep on dating his students. (Seen 11 July 2003)

Gone to Earth

There is a story behind this 1950 movie. It was directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, the legendary British team which did a slew of highly regarded movies like The Red Shoes and Black Narcissus. It was produced by Hollywood’s David Selznick and stars Jennifer Jones, who was to become Mrs. Selznick. Mr. Selznick had artistic differences with the directors, however, and ended up re-shooting a lot of the movie and releasing it in the U.S. as The Wild Heart. So the film festival presented a rare opportunity to see the English version. Technically, the film cannot be faulted. The story, however, was met with some derision by the audience. Somewhat reminiscent of Wuthering Heights, it concerns a wild gypsy girl named Hazel who, in a fit of anger against her father, vows to marry the first man who proposes. The lucky guy turns out to be the parson, who is not exactly exciting. Meanwhile, the squire (a dastardly cad who all but twirls his mustache) has a hypnotic attraction for Hazel. This film proves once again that old movie maxim (which I’ve just made up): if a bottomless pit is introduced in the first reel, someone will surely fall into it in the last reel. (Seen 4 June 1987)

Gonggongeui Jeok (Public Enemy)

It’s hard to know what to make of this Korean police thriller cum comedy by Kang Woo-Seok. The hero, if you can call him that, is the proverbial law enforcement loose cannon. But he is so far off the law-and-order scale that he is a virtual parody of a rogue cop. Detective Kang has been so busy for 12 years collecting bribes and beating people up that he has never made a single arrest. But then, pressured by an internal affairs investigation as well as a personal vendetta against a yuppie serial killer, he suddenly begins seeking justice—with a vengeance. It’s as though a cop from a Police Academy movie were on the trail of American Psycho. There is a definite nod to an entire history of Hollywood flicks about cops who who rub everyone, including their superiors, the wrong way because they alone know how to catch an impossibly super-human villain. But even Clint Eastwood never had to solve a case after being busted to traffic cop, as Kang has to. The movie provides some gut-wrenching thrills, as well as confirming what we’ve always suspected about fund managers. (Seen 10 March 2003)

Gonin

If you have been entertaining any thoughts at all about ripping off the Yakuza (Japanese mafia), seeing this film will certainly dissuade you. This is essentially a caper film that bears a passing resemblance to The Usual Suspects. Five men (one’s an ex-cop), all down on their luck in one way or another, come together to pull off one big score. But there the similarities end. This film, directed by Ishii Takashi, is so damned stylish that it takes a good 15 or 20 minutes to even figure out what’s going on. After that, it’s just a matter of seeing things work their way to their inevitable, bloody conclusion. But nothing happens quite the way you expect it to. And the imagery is truly haunting. While the world already has a few too many gangster films, this one is quite well done. (Seen 20 May 1996)

Gonin II

One of my favorite films at the last Seattle film festival was a stylistic and violent Yakuza flick called Gonin. Unfortunately, my friend Darlene and I were about the only ones who liked it. So imagine my excitment when I saw that there was a sequel in this year’s festival! Then imagine my consternation when Ishii Takashi’s directing style turned out to be very different this time around. Rather than enigmatic MTV-style photography and elliptic plot development, this time we have a more conventionally told gangster story. Again, the plot involves a group taking on the Yakuza, but this time they are all women who all happen to be in a jewelry store when the Yakuza rob it. On the spur of the moment they join together to rip off the mob. At least the action is satisfying in a Hong Kong sort of way. Or as my friend Michael said of the main characters, “They have this Energizer bunny/Charlie’s Angels/Wild Bunch thing going.” (Seen 25 May 1997)

Good bye, Lenin!

This is one hit European movie that won’t quickly be snapped up by Hollywood to be remade in America. (If it is, the hero will probably be played by Toby Maguire, although the star Daniel Brühl is actually a dead ringer for Matthew Lawrence.) The film’s premise is one that pretty much only works in Germany, circa 1989-90. The plot sounds like a wacky idea that Hollywood might have indeed come up with. A Berlin woman, a strong supporter of the East German government, goes into a coma just before the Berlin Wall is about to fall. When she wakes up months later, the doctors say that a bad shock could kill her. So her devoted son goes about creating the fiction that East Germany still exists and is in fact flourishing. This provides ample avenues for laughs, not to mention a fair amount of nostalgia for former East Germans. But the film is way more than that. It is a wistful and emotional elegy for a state that no longer exists and which, after all, was founded on some pretty high ideals—even if they weren’t actually realized. By the end of the film, we realize that young Alex Kerner has been creating the fiction of a triumphant East Germany even more for himself than for his mother. (His elderly neighbors also come to see the Kerners’ apartment as an oasis from a scary new reality.) And when Alex meets the father he hasn’t seen for years (but who was living just a few miles away in West Berlin), we also experience the tragedy, injustice and estrangement caused by the division of Germany. This is one of the deftest mixtures of comedy and melancholic regret we have seen in some time. (Seen 10 July 2003)

Good Bye Solo

Here is an excellent example of how a “small” movie by a single young filmmaker about friendship and mortality can put big Hollywood movies like The Bucket List to shame. In a chat after the screening, writer/director Bahareh Azimi, in asking the audience to spread word of mouth, joked that his film would get little attention because it doesn’t star Will Smith and Gene Hackman. The sad thing is that a Hollywood remake of this lovely gem probably would. Filmed in Azimi’s native Winston-Salem, North Carolina, it stars Senegal-born actor Souleymane Sy Savane as the titular Solo, an outgoing and friendly cab driver with hopes of improving his lot. He insinuates himself in the life of one of his fares, a crusty old man named William who has organized well in advance a one-way journey to a steep drop-off in the mountains. William is memorably played by Red West, who was a boyhood pal of Elvis Presley and later his bodyguard and then a stuntman and actor. After scores of TV and movie roles, this is his first star turn, and he is an impressive, grizzled screen presence. The story of these two men is moving but not maudlin and speaks volumes about the human need for connection. (Seen 13 October 2008)

Good Dick

They say there’s someone for everybody, and this movie certainly makes the case for that aphorism. The young woman played by writer/director Marianna Palka seems bound and determined to have no one in her life. And the young man played by her real-life boyfriend Jason Ritter (son of John) seems, for some reason, equally determined to have her in his life. She is a regular renter of porn tapes in the Los Angeles video store where he works. It is the kind of place where the young staff spend their free time commenting on each others’ lives, discussing the coming apocalypse and using the word “dude” a lot. There are a number of amusing bits and some genuinely moving ones. Anyone who has ever pursued a relationship against tough resistance will certainly relate, although I would say that few go to the lengths that Ritter does. In the end, this is a contemporary fairy tale, and as usual the damsel needs to be rescued. Watch for a nice cameo by Charles Durning. Most inexplicably funny line: “It’s a Scottish movie.” (Seen 18 October 2008)

The Good Girl

I’ve read several articles that tell how Jennifer Aniston had to work really hard to learn how to slump her shoulders for this role. She does a pretty good jump of slumping, but you don’t really notice because Jake Gyllenhaal does an even better job. With this and Donnie Darko, he really has that not-quite-mentally-right-young-man thing down really well. And with this and Lovely & Amazing, he really has that bedding-a-bored-older-woman thing down really well too. Directed by Miguel Arteta, this Madame-Bovary-in-a-small-Texas-town story has a lot of truths in it. (I can personally attest that telling-a-woman-you’re-a-writer thing actually does work sometimes.) The early scenes establishing Aniston’s boredom with her life could easily be an American version of a Mike Leigh film. But Aniston’s wacky coworkers (Zooey Deschanel is very good as a young woman who does her best to keep things interesting) also tend to make this feel like a sitcom. (Seen 12 October 2002)

Good Morning, Babylon

This U.S.-French-Italian co-production is a loving homage to films and filmmaking and to being brothers and to being Italian. Which is only natural since it is made by two filmmaking Italian brothers. Paolo and Vittorio Traviani have made Padre, Padrone, Night of the Shooting Stars, and Kaos. Their films always seem just a little bit magical, almost like a fairy tale, even when dealing with the most common of events. The story concerns two brothers who leave Italy for America in the early part of this century, hoping to make enough money to save their family’s business. The family, consisting of dad and seven sons, are all craftsmen. They restore beautiful Romanesque cathedrals. In America, the brothers don’t find any Romanesque cathedrals to restore, but they do wind up in Hollywood building sets for legendary filmmaker D.W. Griffith (played by Charles Dance, who was Meryl Streep’s husband in Plenty, but probably got seen by more people as the bad guy in The Golden Child). They help build the sets for Griffith’s Intolerance, a film telling four different stories that demonstrate the futility of war (and making up for The Birth of a Nation, which didn’t exactly go a long way toward furthering civil rights). The secret to the brothers’ success is their commitment to being equal in everything. But when that equality is upset, all hell breaks loose. In fact, World War I breaks loose. The parallels are clear. The Tavianis consider filmmaking as worthy an art as the cathedrals in Italy. And people are only going to go on making the art as long as they don’t destroy it through war and intolerance. And that’s only possible as long as we are all brothers (or sisters too, I suppose) and agree that we are equals. Vincent Spano, who previously has mainly played teenagers (Baby, It’s You, Rumble Fish, Creator) does a nice turn as one of the brothers. This is another lovely film from the Tavianis. (Seen 7 June 1987)

Good Night, and Good Luck.

After (finally) watching this movie, I came out of the cinema needing a smoke and scotch. That’s the kind of movie it is. If All the President’s Men (which this film emulates in theme, if not in style) was journalism history dressed up as a 1970s paranoid thriller, then this flick is journalism history dressed up as a 1950s paranoid film noir. As director, George Clooney evokes the era brilliantly in black and white with stark lighting, attention to detail and the contrived but welcome presence and jazz stylings of singer Dianne Reeves. The term “McCarthyism” entered the language long ago, although many people who throw the term around at times seem to have forgotten, or perhaps never knew, exactly what Senator Joseph McCarthy did. This movie provides a history lesson, although we understandably find out much more about Edward R. Murrow and his CBS colleagues than about McCarthy. This raises the question: why hasn’t someone like Oliver Stone already made a movie about the infamous Wisconsin senator? Clooney clearly intended to draw a parallel between the McCarthy era and our own time but, in America’s current polarized political culture, it is hard to imagine the country being cowed by a such a demagoguing politician. In the 1950s there weren’t 10 million bloggers, ready to jump on every public utterance by a politician or a journalist. (To their chagrin, CBS and The New York Times, which are deservedly the heroes of this particular story, learned that when they offered up a demonstrably bogus memo as part of a story about President Bush’s National Guard service.) Many people are nostalgic for a time when 1) journalists showed backbone and took on powerful figures and 2) everyone believed everything journalists said. Unfortunately, the press could not credibly do both simultaneously for long and, besides, people only like an aggressive, advocate press when they happen to agree with it. There is much, much more to say on this topic, and maybe I will get around to it one of these days. In the meantime, it is worth remembering what Hollywood was doing back in those days. To be sure, there were some thoughtful and powerful movies in the 1950s, but what many of us remember is that, coinciding more or less with the Communist witch hunt, there was a bunch of a paranoid scifi flicks about Martians and pod people taking over people’s minds and threatening our existence. See, George, Hollywood isn’t always out of touch with the rest of the country! [Related commentary] (Seen 14 March 2006)

Good Will Hunting

If you’ve been wondering why this Matt Damon guy has succeeded Matthew McConaughey as the magazine cover boy du jour, you can get a pretty good idea by seeing Good Will Hunting. This is a much better place to see his work than in The Rainmaker. By comparison his Will Hunting character makes his earnest young John Grisham lawyer look like the two-dimensional cardboard cutout it is. And in Good Will Hunting, it isn’t just Damon’s acting talent that is on display. He wrote the screenplay with his good buddy Ben Affleck, who had the lead in Chasing Amy and who here (imaginatively enough) plays the good buddy. Damon turns in an impressive performance, evidenced by the fact that he holds his own with Robin Williams, playing an older, burned-out version of his Dead Poets Society teacher. The director is Gus Van Sant, but this is not quite like anything he has done before; his familiarity with troubled youth and young male bonding (e.g. My Own Private Idaho) definitely gives the film resonance. This flick is light years better than Phenomenon or Powder, which it sort of resembles. And it is one of those rare films that will appeal both to men (a fair amount of drinking and swearing) and to women (some hugging and crying). And it just might be the first film where we hear Minnie Driver using her own accent. (Seen 10 December 1997)

A Good Year

If you are looking for surprises out of left field and unexpected plot twists, then this is probably not your movie. In fact, if you have seen even one romantic comedy starring Hugh Grant, then you have a pretty good idea of what to expect. (You know the drill: events and people cause charming but self-absorbed English twit to readjust his shallow priorities.) But this is way better than a Hugh Grant movie because 1) it doesn’t have Hugh Grant in it and 2) it is lovingly filmed in Provence. It is based on a novel by Peter Mayle, who spurred hordes of Anglophone readers to flock to southern France with his memoir A Year in Provence. This movie is likely to propel another wave. How strange that this lovely movie is made by the same director/star team that gave us Gladiator, Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe. Surprisingly, Crowe is quite good, in the dapper romantic hero tradition of the two Grants (Cary and Hugh). The real star of the film, however, is Provence, with its glowing landscapes and its way of life, both real and mythic—as well as the eternal cultural love/hate relationship between the English and the French. Albert Finney is on hand as the beloved uncle who leaves the château to Crowe, and Freddie Highmore plays Crowe’s character as a child. It’s a testament to the charm of this flick that, even though it was my third movie of the day, I simply didn’t want it to end. (Seen 13 October 2006)

Goodbye Mr. Chips

There is something about people trying to make musicals of James Hilton’s novels. They certainly make for good movies. After all, Frank Capra’s Lost Horizon and Sam Wood’s Goodbye, Mr. Chips (starring Robert Donat) are classics. The 1973 musical version of Lost Horizon is a different story altogether. At least the musical version of Mr. Chips, released four years earlier, wasn’t as bad. Actually, the 1969 version, starring the magnificent Peter O’Toole, barely seemed like a musical at all. The songs aren’t really integrated into the story except as occasional musings of the characters—and one big stage production featuring co-star Petula Clark. That leaves the movie, directed by Herbert Ross and adapted by Terence Rattigan, feeling not quite like a real musical but not really a non-musical. There are times when one wishes they had gone all the way and cast Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews in the lead roles. But, no, they would have been better off to play it all straight like the 1939 film. The movie is most definitely not a waste of time. (Watching O’Toole never is.) His delivery of the lines of the bookish, anal retentive title character is always a delight. But it all feels a bit too predictable and a bit too inevitable. Also making the movie worthwhile is O’Toole’s then-wife Siân Phillips, who steals all her scenes as Clark’s outrageous actor friend. (Seen 9 July 2008)

The Goonies

Seven years after he directed the first Superman movie, two years before he made the first Lethal Weapon movie and three years before he directed Scrooged, Richard Donner made this jolly kids adventure movie under the auspices of Steven Spielberg and with a screenplay by Home Alone/Harry Potter maven Chris Columbus. The movie is as much fun as that makes it sound, although there is some strange dragging of the pace toward the end, just when things should be the most exciting. The cast of kids (featuring then ubiquitous Corey Feldman and future Hobbit Sean Astin) harks back to the days of Our Gang and Little Rascals, with a very young Josh Brolin as the hunky older brother. The imposing Anne Ramsey (Throw Momma from the Train), Robert Davi and Joe Pantoliani make a dandy trio of villains. Just to make sure the movie appealed to kids, the filmmakers loaded it up with regular gross-out gags and a fair amount of swearing. More than those movies starring Freddie Prinze Jr. and Sarah Michelle Gellar, this one actually captures the spirit of the old Scooby-Doo cartoons. All that and photogenic Astoria, Oregon, too. (Seen 27 December 2008)

Gosford Park

When Ian McKellen stepped up to the podium at the Golden Globes (unfortunately not to receive one himself), he quipped that he was the only British actor not to appear in Gosford Park. It nearly seems to be true, although I had thought that Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone had cornered the market on well-established British acting talent. What’s amazing is the fact that there is so little overlap (with the notable exception of Maggie Smith and the less notable exception of Geraldine Somerville) between the large casts of the two films. Of course, apart from their sprawling Brit casts (with a couple of Yanks in Gosford Park), the films have nothing at all in common, except the fact that they were both directed by Americans. When I first read about Gosford Park, I thought it might be essentially an English variation on Robert Altman’s under-appreciated, eccentric-character-populated tale of intrigue, conniving and sudden death, Cookie’s Fortune. And that’s definitely one way to view it. Another way is as an homage to all those British TV exports that so many Americans have become addicted to, the way earlier generations of non-Americans became addicted to westerns. Indeed, this could pass as an Agatha Christy adaptation, except that instead of Miss Marple or Hercule Poirot, we get a very droll Stephen Fry, as the most inept detective since Inspector Clouseau. Another way to see this film is as an acting showcase. And who comes out on top? Ms. Smith stands out for having and executing many of the best lines. But any acting prize would have to go to Helen Mirren, who is impeccable as the coldly efficient, perfect head housekeeper. In the end, she makes the most of the best (if not flashiest) role of the piece. (Seen 29 January 2002)

Gothic

Altered States early 19th century style. Ken Russell’s latest. Ostensibly about the night Lord Byron, Percy and Mary Shelley and a couple of other people got together to tell ghost stories. Things get out of hand. Ghosts. Vomit. Leeches. Homosexuality. Heterosexuality. Bisexuality. Drugs. Food. Dead babies. This one has it all. A wonderful film for the whole family. (Seen 16 May 1987)

Grace of My Heart

Grace of My Heart isn’t just like an old-fashioned movie. It’s like three old-fashioned movies. It’s reminiscent of those old musicals about energetic songwriters on Tin Pan Alley. By the end, it’s like one of those fawning TV movie-of-the-week biographies—even though its protagonist, Denise Waverly, is fictitious. Oh yeah, and it’s a smidgen like A Star Is Born. This is Allison (Gas Food Lodging, Mi Vida Loca) Anders’s affectionate homage to women pop songwriters of the late 1950s and 1960s, and it definitely has nostalgic charm. Illeana Douglas, a wonderful actress whose face would seem to relegate her to wisecracking best friend roles, makes the most of the lead as a Philadelphia heiress who matures into an artist with social consciousness. John Turturro (who eerily resembles Ron Silver on the old Rhoda TV series) is her abrasive but lovable boss/mentor. Matt Dillon is on hand as a Brian/Dennis Wilson composite. (Seen 27 September 1996)

La Gran final (The Great Match)

The landscapes are exotic, breathtaking and majestic and represent the kind of cinematography that we are used to seeing in historical epics. But the humor and incongruity in coexisting cultures are reminiscent of the art house comedy hit The Gods Must Be Crazy. Directed by the Spaniard Gerardo Olivares the movie tells three simultaneous stories about men in far-flung corners of the globe going to some bit of trouble to see the final match of the 2002 World Cup, which was played between Germany and Brazil. In Mongolia, a group of nomads “borrow” power from an electrical line for their television and must contend with the authorities, who happen upon them. In the sandy desert of Niger, men in a camel caravan make a deal with the driver of a (sort of) bus to detour to, not a tree, but a tall monument that marks where a tree once stood, to use it as an antenna for their telly. And, in the Amazon rain forest, a group of tribesmen go to great lengths to get a satellite dish to work from a tree before being forced to find another TV to watch. In one of the most amusing of many funny moments, they approach a supposedly American missionary (the most obese actor that could be found, obviously) who drinks Coca-Cola and can’t be bothered to switch his TV from a baseball game. The movie is fascinating for the glimpses it gives us of worlds we rarely, if ever see, in the movies, and it makes us feel that, for one day every four years anyway, soccer really does bring the world together. (Seen 14 July 2006)

Grand Theft Parsons

This is a flick I had been wanting to see for a long time. The late country-rocker Gram Parsons has all the prerequisites for legend-dom, and it’s strange that he hasn’t been immortalized to the same extent as, say, James Dean or Elvis, or at least Jim Morrison or Jimi Hendrix. After all, he was very talented, had a major fan base during his life, was wild-living and good-looking and, most importantly, he died young. He seemed long over-due for a film treatment, and this movie deals with one of the odder and most legendary parts of his life: the part right after it ended. In 1973, Parsons expired at the age of 26, after a drug and drink binge in Joshua Tree, California. Apparently, acting on a wish once stated by Parsons, his road manager Phil Kaufman and a friend managed to spirit Parson’s body away from Los Angeles International Airport and bring it back to Joshua Tree for an improvised ritual burning. The story is downright mythic in 20th century music history, so it is a bit of a let-down that this movie by David Caffrey (the Irish director who made Divorcing Jack and On the Nose) makes the whole incident a fairly standard caper comedy. It doesn’t help that we learn precious little about Parsons himself or what there was about his brief life that would inspire such a bizarre tribute. Johnny Knoxville (of Jackass fame) plays Kaufman, and Christina Applegate has the blonde bitch role as Parson’s scheming girlfriend. Robert Forster turns in a dignified performance as Parson’s father, although in real life it was actually Parsons’s stepfather who was trying to bring Parsons’s body to Louisiana, for less sentimental reasons than portrayed here. (Seen 17 December 2004)

Grease

The Missus said something interesting after we saw the 20th anniversary re-release of Grease. She opined, “I think I liked the first one better.” Even though this wasn’t actually a remake, she has a point. Grease is a much different movie in 1998 than it was in 1978. Its attraction always was (and still is) the schmaltzy 1950s-style songs and the loopily energetic dance numbers—sort of a latter-day Bye Bye Birdie with a nod to West Side Story and a wink at (the non-musical) Rebel Without a Cause. What was different then, however, was that people (stoked by American Graffiti and Happy Days) couldn’t get enough of the lame stretches between musical numbers featuring supposed leather jacket cool. Ironically, what had been threatening and dangerous in its time was now a comforting, nostalgic reminder of a more innocent time! But is Grease supposed to make us nostalgic for the 1950s, which it was lampooning, or for the 1970s, when popular musical tastes became flashy but simplistic? In any event, the movie is still harmless fun. (Seeing it again certainly beats seeing Grease 2.) And, more than getting an early look at John Travolta, it’s worthwhile for getting some of our last looks at the likes of Eve Arden and Joan Blondell. (Seen 22 July 1998)

Great Expectations

If William Shakespeare can be modernized, moved to Florida and made into a date movie for the ‘90s, then why not Charles Dickens? But if Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet is MTV, then Alfonso Cuarón’s Great Expectations is definitely VH1. As the young Finn (Pip in the novel), Jeremy James Kissner brings a youthful charm not unlike Ethan Hawke’s in Joe Dante’s 1985 movie Explorers. Unfortunately, as the adult Finn, Hawke runs the gamut from dim to obnoxious so that next to him Gwyneth Paltrow’s snobbish Estella doesn’t seem all that bad—even if she has grown up to get engaged to Michael Kinsley’s clone. Robert De Niro pops up (literally) as a kinder, gentler version of the homicidal maniac he played in Scorsese’s Cape Fear remake. And Anne Bancroft gets to chew scenery as (more or less) Norma Desmond, making it possible for us to hear 50 different versions of the song Bésame Mucho. (Seen 30 January 1998)

The Green Mile

On New Year’s Day it seemed safe to come out of my Y2K bunker and see if the world had survived, and thankfully it had. That means it’s time to finally start catching up on all of the end-of-year movie releases. The critical opinion on The Green Mile has been sharply divided between those who love it and those who hate it. And it’s easy to see why. This flick does a job on the imagination and on the heartstrings in the best Hollywood tradition. And the creative team—Frank Darabont (director) and Stephen King (source novel)—is the same one that gave us The Shawshank Redemption, a sentimental favorite of mine since I saw it on my very first date with The Missus. But, while this prison movie has echoes of Darabont’s earlier one, it piles on a lot more movie reverberations from other films, like To Kill a Mockingbird and The Birdman of Alcatraz and the deservedly less well known Powder. And by the time Gary Sinise shows up for a chat with Tom Hanks in their best Southern drawls, we can’t help think about Forrest Gump too. In the end, the film comes off like an elaborate indictment of capital punishment, but it’s a much more emotional and less reasoned one than the admirable Dead Man Walking. The Green Mile’s stirring power is undeniable, but its effect tends to fade afterward under the weight of logic. Could prison guards and death row prisoners really be this goofily lovable and convivial? The truth is that The Green Mile comes awfully close to doing for death row what Hogan’s Heroes did for Nazi war prisons. (Seen 1 January 2000)

The Groomsmen

Ever since Fellini’s I Vitelloni, it seems to be a given that every few years we will see on the big screen yet another generation of men trying to come to terms with how women, children, jobs and responsibility in general keep infringing on their youth, which was supposed to be eternal. The classic of the genre, for Americans anyway, is Barry Levinson’s Diner, and this movie may well remind you of that flick. This time the thirtysomethings coping with life are longing for their high school glory days in the 1980s. And they live in the working class Irish-American New York milieu that is familiar from earlier films written and directed by Edward Burns (The Brothers McMullen, She’s the One). Burns plays Paulie, whose wedding is fast approaching, as is the birth of his daughter. Not only is he having trouble accepting the major changes looming, but his four groomsmen have picked this already-stressful time to act out their own various emotional, medical and identity issues. Oh, yeah, and they’re getting the old rock band back together for the wedding. (The first of their old covers they try out for the occasion is Greg Kihn’s “The Breakup Song.”) Fortunately, the cast (including such familiar faces as John Leguizamo, Jay Mohr, Matthew Lillard and Brittany Murphy) is generally watch-able and keep things entertaining. But the plotting is a bit too schematic and the various plot strands get tied up a bit too neatly for this to be considered much more than a diverting comedy, punctuated with a few bits of drama. (Seen 20 February 2007)

Grosse Fatigue

Grosse Fatigue is not only the title of this movie, but it also describes my physical state after attending 40 film festival screenings in twelve days. Oh well, the festival is now halfway over, so I’ll just mainline some more espresso and keep on going. Anyway, Michel LeBlanc is a comic actor who is well known in France. Carole Bouquet is model/actor who first got noticed in the title role of Luis Buñuel’s That Obscure Object of Desire and has been seen in other movies and lots of Chanel commercials. (She has an English speaking role in A Business Affair which was also seen in this festival.) LeBlanc and Bouquet play themselves in this silly comedy which LeBlanc directed. They clearly have a great time sending up their own screen personas as well as their public images. The premise is that someone is taking over LeBlanc’s life by pretending to be him. As LeBlanc’s nightmare becomes crazier and crazier, he and his double eventually trade places entirely. At one point he tries to get work as his own celebrity look-alike and is rejected. There are many hilarious bits in this movie, as well as cameos by lots of French film celebrities. The film also gets some good shots off at Hollywood and at Gerard Depardieu. (Ironically, this is one of the few French movies I have seen in 20 years that does not include the ubiquitous Depardieu.) The gags get kind of lame in the second half, but they are worth enduring for the film’s end which features unexpected appearances by Phillippe Noiret and Roman Polanski. The film ends on just the right note with a loving nod to French cinema. (Seen 30 May 1995)

Grosse Pointe Blank

What could be more traumatic than being a young woman stood up on prom night? How about being the guy who stood her up and returning to face her ten years later? If that’s not scary enough, what if you found yourself attending your ten-year high school reunion and it was in Grosse Pointe, Michigan? This wry, ironic comedy nicely captures the mixed emotions that come from returning home and facing old ghosts at the end of one’s young adulthood. One’s ten-year reunion typically comes at a tricky time because, well, it comes at that age where lots of rock stars die suddenly. Cleverly, the movie exaggerates this experience by giving its protagonist, John Cusack, the ultimate isolating profession: professional assassin. As the love interest, Minnie Driver is strangely Julie Kavner-ish. Other delights in this film are Alan Arkin, Dan Aykroyd, and John’s sister Joan in humorous supporting roles. (Seen 22 September 1997)

Grumpier Old Men

This sequel to Grumpy Old Men (which I never saw, but that doesn’t seem to matter) is basically an extended situation comedy about a couple of old farts in a small town in Minnesota. As a comedy, it is episodic and largely character-driven. The plot, to the extent that there is one, seems an afterthought. It’s great to see old pros like Walter Matthau, Jack Lemmon, Ann-Margret, and Sophia Loren doing their stuff. But it’s 88-year-old Burgess Meredith (playing Lemmon’s crusty 95-year-old father) who steals the most laughs with his crude double and single entendres. Also, watch for Ann Guilbert (Millie on the old Dick Van Dyck Show) as Loren’s Italian nightmare of a mother. While not a fabulous film, Grumpier Old Men is perfectly harmless. (Seen 22 December 1995)

Guantanamera

What we have here is your basic Cuban screwball road comedy. Directed by the same team that gave us 1995’s Strawberries and Chocolate (Juan Carlos Tabio and the late Tomás Gutierrez), Guatanamera tells the story of a group of people escorting a corpse from one end of Cuba to the other and of the two truckers whose journey continually intertwines with theirs. A guantanamera, by the way is a woman from Guantánamo. (Bet you didn’t know that when you were singing the song back in the 1960s.) Anyway, the guantanamera of the title is Gina who is married to a jerk named Adolfo, a bureaucrat who hopes to reverse his sagging political fortunes with a complex nationwide funeral scheme. One of the many twists and coincidences of the story is that an old student of hers, who always had a crush on her, is on the same road. The film is alternately funny, touching, whimsical, and magical. And definitely worth the trip. (Seen 18 May 1997)

Guiltrip

The husband in Guiltrip makes Winston Chao’s character in Red Rose, White Rose seem like Phil Donahue! Liam is a corporal in the Irish army and he doesn’t treat his wife Tina nearly as well as he does the troops. (And he doesn’t treat them very well either.) This is one of those movies where the main characters can’t get across a room without experiencing a flashback. But that’s a good thing because there wouldn’t be much of a movie without the flashbacks. As the film opens, Tina is trying to hook up a portable CD player while waiting for Liam who is extremely late arriving home. Through the flashbacks, we learn that Liam and Tina both have had eventful days and, unknown to both, their days were intertwined. Also, both of them have something to hide. This first feature by Gerard Stembridge is clever and involving, although the ending is somewhat less than satisfying. (Seen 29 May 1996)

A Gun, a Car, a Blonde

Tom Epperson, who co-wrote this movie with director Stefani Ames, explained that it was “title-driven,” meaning that the idea came from a comment that any movie could be sold if its title mentioned a gun, a car, and a blonde. (Apparently not, however, since this film has yet to find a distributor.) Epperson and performers Billy Bob Thornton and Jim Metzler previously collaborated on 1992’s One False Move. In this film, Metzler plays a man with spinal cancer who is convinced by his best friend (John Ritter) to use fantasy to deal with his chronic pain. This leads to extended black-and-white fantasy sequences that essentially parody (quite nicely) films noirs of the 1940s and 1950s. People in Metzler’s real life become characters in his imagined life, putting this film in the company of The Singing Detective and The Wizard of Oz. The blonde of the title is Andrea Thompson, who should be best remembered as a telepath in Babylon 5 but who I understand is also on some TV show called NYPD Blue. Her voice and shoulders are made for this type of role. And in one memorable scene we see a lot more than her shoulders. All in all, this movie is a satisfying entertainment. (Seen 3 June 1997)

Guwak Tsai Sam Tsi Jeksau Jetin (Young and Dangerous III)

Everyone keeps worrying about what is going to happen to Hong Kong’s economy and political liberties when China takes over. But what about Hong Kong action movies? Are the dastardly Communist bureaucrats going to ruin them by insisting that the English subtitles actually consist of coherent sentences? Or that the stories involve things that could actually happen in real life? That remains to be seen. In the meantime, we have Young and Dangerous III, part of trilogy(?) of films, all made in 1996. (If only George Lucas could work that fast...) This is about gang warfare, fighting, deception, fighting, revenge, and lots and lots of fighting. And it doesn’t seem to matter one bit whether or not you’ve seen the first two movies. It’s frightening to think that the world could be deprived of this cultural resource. Please write the United Nations and express your concern today! (Seen 18 May 1997)