The Blackness Of My Belt Is Like The Inside Of A Coffin: Beverly Hills Ninja (1997)

It was only a matter of time before I came across a movie during this marathon that I had a less than stellar reaction towards.  Which is fortunate because I was beginning to form a rather intense bond to the genre and as it stands I am far too invested in a ton of different films movements, genres and eras to afford picking up another.  Of course, the movie in question is Beverly Hills Ninja so maybe it is a bit unfair to let it speak to a bad moment within the genre, because at face value it is indeed just a comedy that happens to involve ninjas, who occasionally engage in martial arts.  Yet, knowing that I had never encountered the film prior and had a great experience with Tommy Boy, I figured given my liberal consideration of genre that it would be a perfect movie to include.  Tragically, where it could have benefitted from the slapstick comedy of Chris Farley or the entrenchment within the martial arts genre the film cowers away, only marginally exploring the various themes or tropes, whereas it feels far more inclined to spend excessive amounts of time exploring the woes and absurdity of Beverly Hills decadence.  Sure these moments are funny, but they are also a rehashing of jokes and observations that had already occurred to great excess in films like Clueless.  Indeed, where other parodies would succeed in perfect respect to the genre through clever revisionism, Beverly Hills Ninja only uses the themes to skirt over vague considerations of the style and tropes, ultimately, failing to even capture the vaguest of humor or pertinence.  Trust me, I wanted Beverly Hill Ninja to be a great film, I am on a constant quest to find a handful of nineties comedies that can create a cap in my understanding of its evolution, but this simply was not one worth including.  The name Dennis Dugan has come to be a black mark on Hollywood comedies as of late, and deservedly so, because he and Adam Sandler have clearly stopped trying, but there was a time when films like Billy Madison defined the eras comedic output.  With this in mind, Beverly Hills Ninja stands as the perfect middle ground between Dugan's early work and the complete nonsense that he now releases.  It is neither a bad film, nor is it particularly great.  Instead, it is so run-of-the-mill as to be understandably forgotten.

The narrative of Beverly Hills Ninja begins much as any kung fu/martial arts film does by introducing a mysterious dojo hiding in the mountains of Japan.  The clan of ninjas are foretold of the coming of a white baby who will prove to be the greatest ninja their dojo has ever seen, a prophecy that rings true when a large white baby floats onto their beach via a chest, causing great hope and admiration amongst the clan.  However, as years pass it becomes evident that the boy is far from the expert ninja the prophecy suggested.  Indeed Haru (Chris Farley) is the epitome of everything that is not ninja-like, whether it be his inability to wield a weapon without either hurting himself or an ally, or his general lack of stealthiness due to his considerable weight.  Of course, he is still fondly loved by the members of his clan, although when it comes time to appoint the ninjas with their respective garb, Haru is passed over due to his lack of skill and is instead placed on duty to guard the dojo.  This task immediately brings him into contact with Sally Jones (Nicollette Sheridan), who hopes to hire the ninjas to discover why her boyfriend Martin (Nathaniel Parker) has suddenly taken to disappearing for great lengths of time.  With the "help" of Haru, Sally discovers that Martin is indeed involved in a large counterfeiting scheme one he is willing to kill for without hesitation.  The murder, however, leads to trouble with the clan who are suspected of being involved, nonetheless, Haru takes it upon himself to engage in the quest to help Sally, who later  reveals the name to be an alias.  Realizing that Haru will certainly face an  imminent death if he is not protected, Haru's master sends his best ninja Nobu (Keith Cooke Hirabayashi) to serve as a guardian angel of sorts, one that looks out for Haru but never makes his presence known.  Eventually, Haru makes it to Beverly Hills where the culture is considerably different from that of his clan's world, in that many people are expressly mean or dismissive of his presence, until he reveals himself to be quite wealthy.  Along the way Haru also befriends a young bellhop named Joey (Chris Rock) who also wants to be a ninja.  Eventually, with the help of his master and a revealing of the aid of Nobu, Haru tracks down Martin and his gang, after diffusing bombs and fighting off various guards.  As such, Haru returns to his clan having fulfilled the prophecy, even if in the most indirect of manners.

I guess I can attempt to glean some various points of critical theory out of this film, but it got rather tough to watch after awhile as I realized the film, despite being eighty odd minutes was dragging on incessantly.  One of the major elements in the film that I did enjoy in regards to social commentary was the notion that race could exist in some space beyond pigmentation or physical identifiers, in so much as Haru is treated as an Asian person in Beverly Hills based on his clothing, as opposed to his skin tone.  This is most evident when he is dealing with the attendant at the hotel desk who assumes that he will be paying in something aside form American money, or any form of Asian currency.  However, these themes falter and indeed are betrayed when Haru's race is called into question, particularly when those dismissive of his ninja abilities ask questions like "aren't ninjas supposed to be Asian?"  This question while absurd does call attention to essentializing culture, which is one of the more pertinent themes in the film and probably where it is strongest narratively.    It suggest that Western influences are almost entirely at blame for such stereotypes, showing that in a place like Beverly Hills there is only one type of way to live, involving blonde hair and sports cars, a culture that exploits people like Joey to allow for a guise of perfection.  The scene where this essentialist issue comes to the forefront is when Haru, attempting to spy on Martin and one of his business partners, dresses as a chef at a Japanese steakhouse, one indicative of a Benihana's, appropriating the over-the-top mannerisms of the cooking art to a slapstick degree.  His outfit, however, is some wild combination of an Italian chef and a Mongolian warrior, suggesting that such places of business are tapping into an Asianness that is not only archaic, but heavily infused with Western ideologies.  Furthermore, considering that Haru comes from a ninja clan with its own social mores and practices, the notion of a type of "Japaneseness" existing in a place of Western consumption is problematic, because it not only essentializes one country,  but even one group within that space.  The film also deals with some gender performance and layers of gaze, but they were probably accidental so it is not worth considering too heavily.

Key Scene:  Haru's montage of growing up as a ninja is pretty funny, but the film does not manage to keep the pace much longer.

Honestly I would avoid this film.  There are better Chris Farley movies, and there are certainly better martial arts comedies.

Fat Guy In A Little Coat: Tommy Boy (1995)

I am full knowledgeable of the dismissive attitude many cinephiles have to the entirety of comedy for the decade of the nineties.  Sure a ton of it is entirely entrenched within toilet humor and crude, terribly thought out jokes, or in the opposite spectrum the films are too highbrow and pretentious to the point of being distancing to anyone who is not an English major at a prestigious Ivy League school.  Fortunately, the era was not a complete wash and occasionally a film would come along that meets the middle ground on the comedic divide, one such film that I have championed for on this blog was Stuart Saves His Family in its clever commentary on the nature of familial trust, self-help and depression, while also being uproariously funny.  From the same year, the Chris Farley and David Spade vehicle Tommy Boy exudes the same thrill and fascination, allowing for it to be both a staple of mid-nineties yuppie disillusion, as well as a larger film about friendship and moving beyond the shadow of one's predecessors.  Tragically, anything with Chris Farley has come to take on an unfortunate life of its own,  considering that his last months before an untimely death were fueled with wild drug use and an irreversible downward spiral of self-loathing. Here in Tommy Boy, however, Farley is at his finest, I would argue even more so than in his iconic "van down by the river" sketch, moving between the wild and unruly antics that would earn him his comedic reputation and delivering some poignant and moving  lines of dialogue that show a very real understanding of frustration and failure.  It also helps that the film is not so invested in an on-the-nose commentary about the nature of small business as to become shadowed by its sweeping sense of importance.  Sure it is a great narrative about sticking it to the big cats and supplanting corruption, but that is secondary to the pseudo-coming of age tale that unfolds for the title character.  It also does not hurt that the film seems to have an uncanny resemblance to the world of Twin Peaks, and if all else fails one cannot help but love the iconic moment of Farley dancing about in Spade's sports jacket, it is clear in this scene, as well as many others, that at the very least the two were having the time of their lives making this film.

Tommy Boy focuses, obviously enough, on the experiences of Tommy (Chris Farley) a recent college graduate who had been on the "seven year plan," which involved heavy drinking and drug use, although with an inspired D+ on an American History final he succeeds in finishing  with his degree, subsequently planning to return to work for his father Big Tom Callahan (Brian Dennehy) at his auto parts factory.  Of course, Tommy is extremely inept at anything remotely productive, however, he is adored by all the factory workers, particularly Michelle (Julie Warner) the shipping manager for Callahan's who seems to see past Tommy's foolish demeanor for the stand-up guy beneath.  In the opposite view stands Richard (David Spade) Big Tom's righthand man who had been prepping to take over his position, assuming that Tommy would never complete college.  Both Richard and Tommy are taken for a spin, however, when Big Tom has a heart attack during his wedding to his new young wife Beverly (Bo Derek) leading to the bank demanding that the company account for their loans.  In an act of thoughtful desperation, Tommy offers his shares in the company and the factory as leeway on the loan asking that he and Richard be provided time to sell the necessary shipments to pay off the loan.  Richard is fearful of the success of such a wild plan, as well as for his life, knowing the reputation Tommy carries along with him, which is asserted during their first sales pitch, which literally goes up in flames.  It is not until the duo get into a furious argument on the side of the road that Tommy appears to have a wake-up call, one that ignites a suppressed ability to sell his product, without entirely relying on the crutch of his late father.  It then appears as though Tommy and Richard will save the business, however, a shipping error that is onset by Beverly's son Paul (Rob Lowe), who turns out to be far closer with his mother than anyone expected, results in the company, nonetheless, going bankrupt and being bought up by the competitor Zalinksy (Dan Akroyd).  At this point, Richard assumes defeat, yet Tommy refuses to give up after he has come this far and uses his idealistic antics to worm his way into Zalinsky's office, while also uncovering the duplicitous nature of Beverly and Paul in the process.  Tommy saves the company, forms a real friendship with Richard, gets the girl and fondly remembers his father, which is a stark contrast from the figure that emerges in the opening moments of the film.

While I hesitate to overanalyze something as seemingly simple as Tommy Boy, I do find there to be a real consideration of the relationship between authenticity, salesmanship and ethics working throughout the film.  The obvious examples emerge in figures like Zalinsky, who claims to be a working class man selling working class parts to working class people, but when confronted with his own statement, he clearly rejects that notion and only cares about his own personal advancement.  Indeed, it is what one seeks in personal advancement that seems to play into notions of authenticity in this film, Paul and Beverly are seeking unethical gains therefore their relationship as a mother and son is not only lacking n authenticity it is completely contradictory to their actuality.  Yet for characters like Richard and Tommy it is far harder to claim that either is lesser apt for the job than the other, because while Richard certainly knows the parts and business of Callahan's he is a stiff suit who is going through the motions and is completely oblivious to the amiable nature necessary to sales.  Tommy is highly likable and extremely friendly, however, it is impossible for him to really comprehend the guidelines for proper salesmanship, ones that are arguably breakable, but not to be completely ignored.  Indeed, it is not until the duo realizes that their respective approaches to proper salesmanship possess degrees of the authentic that business begins to boom.  However, there is also the underlying notion that the two are both ethically sound characters, Tommy in his youthful idealism that assumes all persons are inherently good and Richard who plays by the rules, therefore, assuming everyone else does, allows for the two to come of clean, even when they pass as flight attendants or fake holding up a bank.  All of this coalesces wonderfully in the first big successful sale by Tommy where he debates the ethics of a slapping a guarantee on a piece of paper with a prospective buyer.  As Tommy notes, it is only a person who is unsure about their product that would feel it necessary to provide a guarantee, in the mind of Tommy, which affects his worldview, a guarantee should be a given, calling attention to it is frivolous and of suspect.  Much like the business he now owns, Tommy thinks that good and authentic behavior is a given and should not need to be noted, only proven.

Key Scene:  As much as the "fat guy in little coat" number is the most notable scene from the film, the failed sales scene that ends in Tommy lighting a desk on fire is the highlight of the film, if only to watch Spade struggle to keep a straight face throughout.

Tommy Boy is available on Watch Instantly, you should set some time aside and check it out, or in some cases revisit the film.  It certainly stands up and is a light and entertaining film.