The Past Is Just A Story We Tell Ourselves: Her (2013)

I am gonna keep riding this post humanism wave here on the blog, because I have been fortunate to have yet another piece of academic writing get pushed through to a new stage of revisions with the hopes of eventual publication.  Incidentally, much of the subject matter of this paper revolves around issues of cyborg identity and by extension how we gender and other bodies that themselves are not human.  As I noted earlier this is a relatively new point of research for me, but one that is nonetheless proving quite rewarding and at times challenging theoretically.  I know full and well that I would have adored Spike Jonze's Her regardless of having encountered some of this research prior, but much of it would have been purely from a sort of cinematic spectacle and comedic point of reference.    It would be quite a challenge to find a reason for me to not like the movie on those grounds alone, yet when I began to engage with the film (almost immediately) on its conceptualization and navigation of issues surrounding the post-human identity I found myself becoming even more enthralled with the film than I could have previous foreseen.  It works its way ever so cleverly around both the issues of embodiment and what it would mean for an entity with unlimited access to the known world to somehow become more sentient than a person, even one that it had grown deeply attached to in as close to physical way as possible.  The film is vibrant and abject simultaneously, painting in its lens a world that is hip and looks to be a great step forward, but also manages to show the very detachment and dissonance that could create a world where this narrative could emerge.  In this careful construction, I would argue that Her carries the same legitimacy in terms looking forward to humanities symbiosis with technology that The Matrix and Existenz did in 1999, there begin a prophetic warning.  Jonze realizes that this warning is far too late and instead takes a look at how the romantic relations of those in the world will come to fruition in light of this invariable attachment.  In this way, the film proves to be the most important romantic drama since Brokeback Mountain.  It should be rather apparent at this point that I was absolutely floored by Her.

Her follows the life of Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) a man whose job revolves around writing heartfelt and emotionally charged letters for clients who want to send them to friends, lovers and relatives but cannot bother to spend the time doing it themselves.  While he is exceptional at his job, he has been recently distraught over the ending of his recent push for divorce by his wife Catherine (Rooney Mara) who sees his distant nature and decidedly mellow outlook on life to be starkly opposed to her very hard and critical world view.  While Theodore is capable of maintaing some semblance of functionality at work, he is clearly suffering on the outside as noted by Amy (Amy Adams) and her boyfriend Charles (Matt Letscher).  During his travels through what appears to be a nondescript California location, Theodore comes across an advertisement for a new operation system for his computer that is equipped with artificial intelligence.  Seeing this as a curiosity, Theodore buys the software and after answering a few questions about his mother and interests, he is provided with a voice model named Samantha (voiced by Scarlett Johansson) whose own outlook and desire to learn about the world and Theodore immediately becomes a thing of life-fullfilment for Theodore.  While he is initially hesitant to embrace the desires of Samantha, Theodore and his operating system become involved, at one point even carry out what is apparently a sexual encounter.  In the physical world, this drives Theodore to the final point of willingness to end things with Catherine and when Amy and Charles breakup, he is able to better support her as a friend.  Yet, when Samantha grows closer to Theodore their relationship too grows and in some ways becomes tested after the "honeymoon phase."  Theodore becoming quite frustrated when Samantha attempts to introduce a real woman into the sexual equation.  Yet, he is willing to work at finding a way for their partnership to work and is quite successful for sometime, but during a trip to the mountains, Samantha informs Theodore that she has been talking extensively with other AI operating systems, wherein her understanding of knowledge and presence are beyond his comprehension.  Furthermore, after a brief malfunction, Samantha reveals that she has been in conversation with thousands of other entities, some of which she has loved equally.  In one last conversation, Samantha calls Theodore at night to tell him that she/it loves him dearly, before the entire system goes offline.  Awaking to the broken system, Theodore is momentarily flustered, but eventually decides it is best to simply go and talk with Amy, a moment that suggest the future of a even better relationship.

Her tackles the issues of artificial intelligence, post humanism and the existential justification of life in a way few films have.  Indeed, while it is at a quick thought, I would only place Blade Runner, 2001: A Space Odyssey and The Matrix above this in terms of film's which tackle the issue of the artificial navigating its way into the real in highly indiscernible ways with noted success.  Wherein, the thee previous films pain such an uprising and awareness in a very dire situation, one predicated upon invasion and replacement with something newly evolved, Her notes that the divide might not happen with such force, but the emotional investment will be no less tangible.  The artificial intelligence at play in this film seems to predicate itself upon becoming attached to figures who are already in the emotional dumps as it were, susceptible to a emotional replacement that does not necessarily factor into the most Darwinian of logistics.  Here, Theodore navigates towards the entity of Samantha not for the physical elements, but for the replication of comfort and human connection she somehow purports to offer.  Indeed, it is made expressly clear that this is not a replication of the human form and certainly not a simulacra of the human, because there is never a physical entity to which Samantha becomes attached, although there is an incredibly brief moment in the "break up" scene that could be deemed Theodore's own physical manifestation of Samantha.  This looking for human contact by removing the contact element becomes even more curious when one considers that figures like Theodore make incredible use of video games as a form of escapism, while Amy makes video games for a living, aspiring to be a documentary filmmaker all the while.  The games themselves monotonous, Amy's creation simply being a mom simulation, while Theodore is fixated by a game that looks tantamount to The Myth of Sisyphus in 3D.  At no point do they realize the harm or detachment at play in such a world, because they are so fixated on their individual realities, in so much, as it would suggest that the attachment to artificial intelligence, is not one where fear of mental superiority a threat, but that said fabrications

Key Scene:  The love scene is seriously something refreshing in the use of cinematic language, if only for the ways in which it made the audience collectively react.

This is in theaters.  It is a theatrical film.  Seek it out accordingly.

Barnaby, You Don't Know Anything About Women: Hello, Dolly! (1969)

I have watched a lot of musicals this month and still have a few more to look into, but I am rather certain that Hello, Dolly! will prove to be the example of all of the possible elements of a good musical layered into one brilliant epic number, all helmed by the poised and focused delivery of entertainer extraordinaire Barbra Streisand.  This, however, is only one of the contributing factors to this film as it possesses comedy, drama and enough toe-tapping musical numbers to make even the most anti-musical of viewers want to get out of their seat and dance around, hell I even found myself swaying to the music occasionally.  If any of these elements cannot manage to get the cold hearted cinephile to leap with joy, the inclusion of a singing Walter Matthau is certainly the swelling and inspiring factor of cinematic perfection.  While I might come away from this month with an understanding of Busby Berkeley still being the premier director of movie musicals, followed in a very close second by the eccentric works of Bob Fosse, then I would consider Hello, Dolly!, directed by noted performer Gene Kelly who has made multiple appearances this month on the blog, the actor turned director of the genre.  While wholly different films in theme, tone and appearance, one could suggest that Kelly's transition from actor to director that occurs here in Hello, Dolly! takes on a level of intensity tantamount to that of Charles Laughton going from actor to director of The Night of the Hunter, although the latter does have the notable one and done nature that gives it a mythic sense of scale.  Regardless, Hello, Dolly! is nothing short of a musical at its most ambitious and realized, moving in a sweeping manner through its lengthy runtime, but still leaving a sense of wonderment throughout and a wish that the tim could hold on for just a bit longer, because between the comedic timing of the various actors, a few music interludes that include at least one delightful cameo by Louis Armstrong and what has to be the highlight of Streisand's career, Hello, Dolly! from its opening frames melts into exuberant existence for all to enjoy.

Set in 1890's New York, Hello, Dolly! focuses on a group of upper middle class individuals navigating the spaces of socialite dinners and engagements of marriage and prosperity, most notably with the endeavors of one Horace Vandergelder (Walter Matthau) a tailor and textile aficionado who has long overlooked the necessity of settling down and getting married, admitting the need for a "dainty" woman in his life for composures sake.  While he has his eye on a milliner named Irene Molloy (Marianne McAndrew) it is a woman from his past named Dolly Levi (Barbra Streisand) who seems more interested in accruing his affections after the passing of her late husband.  Using her charm and guile, Dolly convinces Horace to take his time in approaching Irene for her hand, while she simultaneously introduces Irene and her coworker Minnie Fay (E.J. Peaker) to Horace's young apprentices Barnaby Tucker (Danny Lockin) and Cornelius Hackl (Michael Crawford) hoping that their wide-eyed charm will prove just the trick in getting the group to move their affections away from Horace onto their own goals, ones that allow for Dolly to plant the seed of desire in the stoic, but often misguided Horace.  Of course, the narrative plays this entire endeavor out in grand form, involving a variety of parades and dinners with which Dolly must come to odds with her lavish past, one that includes the adoration of Rudolph Reisenweber (David Hurst) and a vast array of other well-to-do individuals, all evidence when she arrives to much spectacle at the man's home and is in an honored guest during dinner.  Furthermore, Barnaby and Cornelius are not exactly forthright in their affections and need prodding and poking to become intimate with Irene and Minnie, eventually needing the women to make the advances, much in the same vein as Dolly is proving to be the instigator in her impending relationship with Horace.  While Horace flails to keep his dignity in tact as it becomes apparent his ways are becoming antiquated, fully evidenced by his nephew Ambrose Kemper (Tommy Tune) outright refusing to listen to his advice and the opening of a new tailor shop by his former employees, he has no choice but to concede to marrying Dolly.  The brilliance being that Dolly never once suggested the reality, instead hinting at it subliminally or allowing for misdirection to work in a layered form.

This movie is grand in scope and no musical number is short or half realized.  Indeed the film has a rather lengthy ten minute opening song and dance bit before viewers are even given a title card.  This is in line with the genre, but even in this context the breadth and length of such performances are exceptionally long.  While it is arguably the case for every musical, I would suggest that the length of time devoted to performance within Hello, Dolly! is intended to extend the metaphor of performing social responsibilities, here referring to ones involving dating and advancing an agenda of marriage.  Take for example, the initial performance of "I Need A Dainty Woman" by Walter Matthau's Horace. The stoic man whose refusal to speak at any length in the non-singing portions of the narrative, is juxtaposed with his marching and tonal shifting--albeit comedically--while singing this song.  Pairing this with a rather extensive use of the tropes of musical genre, allow for the entire song to speak length to what Horace knows he must do socially to accrue such a woman, yet his reluctance to do so is reflected by his musical numbers existing in the space of marching with other, affirming his own retreating back into masculine singularity as an ideal.  It is not until the closing moments when the song is reappropriated to refer to his newly formed relationship with Dolly that it is moved into a space of a large outdoor dancehall.  The performance is newly situated.  Even other songs like the title song, take on this performative layered level as Dolly must navigate a social space where she is both adored and must learn to navigate her adoration with care and poise.  However, it is wholly the fifteen plus minute dinner service seen that uses narrative performance through the musical to its most extensive and realized.  Cleverly juxtaposed with the ideals of social etiquette, Horace's own suspicions about Dolly's motivations and the attempts by Barnaby and Cornelius to escape the judgement of lower class status, the spectacle of flipping and leaping waiters and demanding patrons is evidence of a director whose own work in front of the camera is of decided note to his ability to impose grand visions onto film.

Key Scene:  Did I mention flipping waiters and flying chicken dinners yet?

This movie is worth your time and is certainly easily accessible via Netflix and other sources.

Next To Food And Music, This Is Mankind's Greatest Invention: TerrorVision (1986)

I have become rather enthralled with discovering some of the real classics of 80's genre film, encountering the very obvious classics and affirming their place in my own adoring film cannon, making specific space for things like The Fly and An American Werewolf in London.  In other situations I have come to discover a film out of sheer curiosity and he result is nothing short of a revelation, the most notable example of this was the wonderfully zany Earth Girls Are Easy, and were it not for my viewing of TerrorVision last night I would have labeled it the most underrated film of the decade.  TerrorVision, made aware to me by a fellow cinephile with excellent tastes, is everything somebody could hope for in the genre comedy, although this one in particular takes the act of satire to an inconceivable level, committing to making everything a scathing critique of that specific moment in American culture.  Full of zealous acting, one of the most ambitious set designs ever conceived and enough goo and gore to make its rating understandable, despite shying away from any consistent use of profanity.  One cannot deny the film having a dated look, but where this is usually the death of a genre picture, TerrorVision becomes a wonderful time capsule of a singular moment in society, where everything could be this wildly absurd without in turn becoming an indictment of the blind depression existing within the dysfunctional suburban family.  Indeed, more contemporary works, including American Beauty which grows more underwhelming with each year detached from its release, pale in comparison to something like TerrorVision, despite having a higher budget and a more purposeful critique.  TerrorVision goes big and does so with a degree of earnestness and surprising finesse as to suggest the work of a seasoned filmmaker, yet it was released by little known filmmaker Ted Nicolaou who would go on to have a rather underwhelming career, seemingly predicated upon the critical and box office failure of this film.  I am hoping that I can help with my limited breadth of readers to revitalize this lost classic, if not for the genuine genius at play in the film itself, then for the the theme song which is a god damn revelation.

The narrative of TerrorVision centers on the "normal" American family of the Putterman's who are lead by their pseudo-tech savvy and hyper-expressive father Stanley (Garrit Graham), as well as the surprisingly authoritative health fanatic mother Raquel (Mary Woronov).  Their children the post-punk valley girl Suzy (Diane Franklin) and the militaristically inclined Sherman (Chad Allen) are headaches in their own right, apparently existing only to interfere with their parents desire to be swingers, hoping to bring people back to engage in various forms of debauchery in their aptly named Pleasuredome/house/room, complete with a jacuzzi and satellite television.  Alongside this is Grampa (Burt Remsen) a conspiracy theorist who sees the world coming to an end rather soon, blaming much of this on the attachment to television on the part of the youth.  The entire family, however, is decidedly engaged with what comes out of their satellite, a Do-It-Yourself 100 model, which after a few technical flaws proves quite a nice piece of machinery, even picking up a midnight horror show with the comically busty Medusa (Jennifer Richards). Yet when Stanley and Raquel leave to find some swingers things take a weird turn, as the satellite begins picking up an unusual feed of a tentacled monster that simply stares at the screen, as well as another feed of an alien warning about the dangers of satellites and creatures attacking.  Confused as to the "boring" nature of the film, the family members ignore its existence, only to have the monster move out of the screen and into the Putterman's home/pleasure palace, attacking Grampa first and then consuming the other members of the family.  It would appear for a considerable amount of time that Sherman, Suzy and Suzy's boyfriend O.D. (Jon Gries) might be capable of overtaking the creature, tricking it into believing it is a pet and not a hungry space monster.  However, when they accidentally startle it back into anger via a cop arriving to chastise Sherman, the creature goes into full consume mode.  The alien sending the warning arrives via the television, providing a last hope at saving the day, yet when Medusa arrives in hopes of partying at the Putterman house, her instant reaction to the martian results in his death and a certain failure to slay the Hungry Monster, suggesting in the closing moments that his consumption will expand well beyond the space of the Putterman house.

In the equally delightful making of documentary that comes along with TerrorVision, one gets the sense that Nicolaou had the desire to make a film that was wholly in the vein of absurdism.  To a degree this is exactly the product that viewers receive, however, I would posit that under the pretense of complete absurdity lies a rather well-executed and pointed critique of mass media culture that, at times, becomes rather prescient, if not outwardly prophetic.  The film seems to revel in the possibilities of television to serve as a form of mass communication that extends well beyond the space of a home, city or even global space tapping into the farthest depths of the universe.  Whereas, the gore cinema revelation that is Videodrome revels in the possibilities of pirate television, TerrorVision suggests a reality of intergalactic discovery through the same technology.  Considering recent advances in technology and a reality where a robot can navigate Mars while sending back footage with relative quickness, the science fiction idealism of this film become a truth.  This is not where it becomes interesting to look at TerrorVision, however, because Nicolaou does not stop there.  He suggests that the very way in which capitalism and individualism have infested the American psyche results in such high degrees of self-involvement that any hope of appreciation for the scope of communication available is ignored in favor of tunnel vision for personal interests.  Indeed, this is where I find TerrorVision to be tapping into something brilliant, perhaps by accident.  In a more contemporary setting communication has become a tool used with a degree of instantaneous fervor, helping to spark revolutions, or instantly identify terrorist attacks, it is a inconceivably profound tool that when used properly can make for exceptional communication and information dispersement.  Small bits of dialogue within TerrorVision, however, remind viewers that these extensions in communication are merely used to further close off one's idea of the world, whether it be Suzy's love of MTV or Raquel's desire to only watch fitness videos, the collective issue of a destructive alien invasion is overlooked in favor of individualized personal desires. Nobody wants to watch the same thing, but they collectively want to ignore what is important.  While TerrorVision is, undoubtedly, about television and its affects of the familial structure, it manages to remain as pertinent as ever in considering how a society uses technology in a consuming manner, rarely considering how the world outside of the visual space can and is affected by what is portrayed. TerrorVision is definitely meta in its composition, it is a matter of how many layers it goes that proves worthy of consideration.

Key Scene:  There are so many.  The jacuzzi attack sequence and the feeding of The Hungry Monster are two highlights, also it is worth reminding readers about the theme song.

Scream! Factory a subsidiary of Shout! Factory has managed to save this film from literal obscurity, meaning that for thirteen years it went without a formatted release, and their bluray makes the stylized and intricate details of this film pop in new ways, most noticeably in the bizarre art adorning the walls of the "pleasure dome."  Also if you missed it this film features a young Uncle Rico of Napoleon Dynamite fame.

Think Of 'Em Like Moving Two By Fours: Tucker and Dale Vs Evil (2010)

The revisionist horror film is almost a thing that is ad nauseam in post-digital filmmaking.  Indeed, it would appears as though every hip post-film school punk thinks themselves capable of creating a masterwork in horror that is in comparison to Texas Chainsaw Massacre or The Exorcist.  This is not to say that decent digital horror films do not exist, there are quite a few examples of next level horror films that have emerged in the past decade, but for the most part they are indicative of sloppy filmmaking that masks itself under excessive gore and formulaic plot.  Tucker and Dale vs Evil in all its absurdity does manage to reconsider some of the elements necessary to horror films and even cleverly engages with some of the classic horror cinema texts from which it pulls.  Of course, given that the entirety of the film is predicated upon one misunderstanding based on social stereotypes the jokes surrounding this run thin by the end and seem less than stellar.  That is not to say that Tucker and Dale vs Evil is not an enjoyable viewing experience, but purely to note that it loses its flare by the closing moments.  The highlight here, however, is Alan Tudyk, who as I noted along side Trey on my appearance on the podcast Drive By Nerding, when Tudyk shows up in anything I will seek it out and consume it, because even with his decidedly comedic choices, he turns in some of the best acting available.  Where Tucker and Dale vs Evil works as a film is in the moments that it clearly makes sure it is not taken seriously, layering on blood and nudity as though it is almost an afterthought, noting that as a genre film it is somehow only taken seriously when such extremes are depicted, by not taking these "necessary" moments as anything but fabrication viewers are allowed to dig a bit deeper and consider the implications of villains and heroes in the horror film canon proper, and like any good revisionist work of genre filmmaking, Tucker and Dale vs Evil leaves those who encounter it considering the very nature of the presumably entrenched tropes of hillbilly slasher movies.

Tucker and Dale vs Evil focuses on two coinciding stories, one focusing on a group of college kids taking a weekend trip to the woods, ranging from the likable and well-meaning Allison (Katrina Bowden) to the seemingly devious and decidedly maniacal Chad (Jesse Moss).  Along with a few other friends they are hoping to get drunk in the woods and engage in all the wild behaviors possible.  Meanwhile Dale (Tyler Labine) and Tucker (Alan Tudyk) also have high hopes of their own, as two self-associating rednecks they take pride in their acquisition of a vacation home, planning on spending the weekend engaging in renovations of the space.  At a local gas station the two groups cross paths, Dale taking a liking to Allison, but when approaching the group, Dale in his stalky demeanor and carrying of a scythe like pole only manages to scare the group, however, their paths reconvene when later that night while fishing, Tucker and Dale spot the group going skinny dipping, even catching Allison as she begins to undress on a high rock.  Scared, Dale shouts causing Allison to fall in panic and become knocked unconscious.  In guilt, Dale takes Allison back to their cabin and begins bringing her back to health, much to the frustrations of Tucker, but more so to the panic of Allison's friends, particularly Chad who mounts a wild plan to get his girlfriend back.  This plan falls completely to the wayside, however, when each attack leads to Dale or Tucker accidentally killing one of the member from Chad's group, either by dodging their attack and leading to their being impaled or by accidentally allowing them to fall into a wood chipper.  Ultimately, Chad becomes wildly vindictive in his attempts to seek revenge upon Tucker and Dale, at one point capturing Tucker and chopping off one of his fingers.  As a past story of murders in the area unfolds, it becomes clear that Chad is perhaps not as well-meaning as he appears, just as Tucker and Dale are not quite as brutal, and in the end Chad is destroyed and Dale is able to win over Allison.  Tucker who now possesses a new finger, seems quite content to be able to enjoy a fresh PBR from his hospital bed.

Tucker and Dale vs Evil works in a lot of regards.  The gore is so synthetic and absurd as to be nearly endearing in its absurdity and much of the dialogue is so heavy handed that one might think writer/director Eli Craig lifted every bit of it from eighties horror films.  These things are great and some of the highlights of the film, but what makes this film clever and a decidedly post-genre comedy, is the way in which it deals with the homoeroticism latent to the psychotic hillbilly horror film, particularly the classic in this regards Deliverance.  Wherein violently sexual encounters are used in a very demeaning and metaphorically visceral way in the cult classic starring Burt Reynolds, the homoeroticism of Tucker and Dale vs Evil becomes humorous in how much Craig makes the viewers acknowledge its potential, made all the more intriguing by the sort of connections made to rural folk life in hilly southern country that is entirely predicated upon Deliverance and the infamous "squeal like a piggy" scene.  Tucker and Dale obviously share a longing with one another, a desire to be together that is not necessarily sexual, but still borders on being wildly homoerotic.  Whether it be their initial encounter with the ill-fated police chief wherein Dale finds himself in a compromising position with Tucker, or their countless mishaps that land one on top of the other, it is clear that their embraces linger on far longer than one would expect for purportedly heterosexual men.  Craig's equally lengthy shots of the scenes ask viewers to first laugh at the absurdity, but then consider why exactly it is funny, when the situational bit wears thing.  In a society that is far more open to diverse sexual identities this is executed beautifully and becomes a great study on individuals burgeoning into their comfort sexually.  For Dale it is a movement towards heterosexuality, but it is rather clear that in the relationship between himself and Tucker that it is Tucker who truly possesses the homoerotic desire, almost affirmed by his acquiring a woman's finger in his hand transplant, one that Dale says fits, a clear suggest that his desire for men is fine, although not best directed at Dale.  This is all minimally discussed in the film, but, nonetheless, exists and makes for a wonderfully subversive film, masquerading as an absurdist horror comedy.

Key Scene:  Any of the moments involving Tudyk waxing poetic about beer are quite wonderful.

Neflix. Watch. Instantly.  In contrast to most of the garbage available, this is well worth your consideration.

I Feel Like James Bond, But Minus The Girls: Jackie Chan's First Strike (1996)

It is rather clear that there will be a considerable battle between Jet Li and Jackie Chan for who will make the most appearances during this kung fu marathon and as it stands I believe they are both tied at a respectable three, with Jet Li's films taking a decidedly serious and historical turn, whereas, with the exception of Drunken Master, Chan's films are clearly intended to exist within the realm of the action/cop thriller comedy genre, making a considerable amount of sense, since his adoration of Harold Lloyd and the other silent comedy masters has previously received acknowledgement.  First Strike, is, technically part of the Police Story films, but considering that it is rather obvious that the version I obtained was reworked to make it entirely in English and more palatable to western audiences, I will consider it as such.  First Strike is incredibly clear in its being an homage to the James Bond films, although in decided Jackie Chan fashion, his character has to be a lovable loser, favoring his self-respect to those he encounters over demanding any sort of objectification of the women and others around him, aside of course from the villains who are already attacking him.  I would, in fact, argue that First Strike, while far from a perfect or even good movie, does manage to have some moments where Chan's love for the silent film slapstick over-the-top routine comes crashing together beautifully with some of the most iconic moments of the Bond filmic franchise.  Despite everything and everyone in the film being dubbed, First Strike also manages to be a considerably enjoyable study in the nature of international crime, moving between spaces that often do not receive heavy mention in the cinematic action language, specifically Ukraine and Australia.  I am assuming that First Strike is considered minor Chan, excluding that string of American films he made later in his career (The Tuxedo and The Medallion), it makes me interested to catch up with more of his work, because even in the films that are not exactly narratively engaging, I was surprised to find myself laughing at the excellent comedic execution of Chan even with as simple of a joke as screaming underwater.  I noted in a previous post about reconsidering Li as one of the great actors working today, I am thinking I might make the same extension towards Chan as a comedic actor.

First Strike begins with Jackie (Jackie Chan) finishing a job for the CIA that involves him tracking down a woman who is believed to be tied to a nuclear arms smuggling case.  The woman Natasha (Nonna Grishaeva), it is discovered, is heading to Ukraine, where Jackie is sent undercover to learn more about the issues of the trade.  Along with Natasha is a Chinese nuclear scientist named Tsui (Jackson Liu) who it is revealed has been working to obtain the secrets of the trade for the CIA, which are contained in a briefcase that is lost in a wild snowboard and snowmobile chase.  After a recovery in Russia, Jackie learns that the arms are being shipped to Australia via a Russian submarine, leading to his traveling to Brisbane, much to the disbelief of his superiors in China.  While in Brisbane, Jackie discovers that the nuclear smuggling extends to include a group of Chinese Triad bosses that have centered themselves in Australia, one whose son just happens to be the late Tsui.  During a meeting with Tsui's father, Jackie meets his sister Annie (Annie Wu) who is initially dismissive of Jackie, believing him to be her brothers killer, a disdain that grows when she discovers that Jackie has lied to her about his identity on multiple levels.  However, after more investigation on the part of Jackie, it is discovered that Tsui had tenuous ties to the KGB and was being forced to engage in illicit activities at their discretion, a fact, that once revealed to Jackie and others allows for Annie to break down her hesitations and help Jackie.  During the later father Tsui's death, an elaborate funeral is staged, which becomes the point of a wild brawl with guns and martial arts abound, eventually leading to a local aquarium where the fight takes an underwater turn, made expressly dangerous by the introduction of a maniacal shark that moves about the water and, at times, above it surface to attack people.  Fighting off lackeys and saving unsuspecting tourists, Jackie eventually tracks down the KGB official who possesses the warhead and has kidnapped Annie, stopping his endeavor and escaping with Annie in tow.  After the criminals have been apprehended, Jackie accepts warm thanks and returns to his job with a new degree of earned respect.

The movie really does have an international flare that I cannot help but embrace, particularly considering its nuclear warfare narrative.  The involvement of both Chinese and Russian forces in such a plot could be deemed the worst of Western nightmares coming to the full front, but considering that the China in this film is dedicated to a degree of disarmament it is far from problematic, indeed, almost ideal when discussing a world that still sees threats of nuclear warfare both on a large global scale, as well as at the hands of terrorist subsets who are bent on knocking down global powers with a singular crippling blow.  Of course, to set the film solely in China or Russia would be a bit overzealous not to mention a bit too obvious, particularly, since it is not in these countries that much of the heavy trafficking tends to occur.  The choice to pull the often overlooked Ukraine into the narrative was a brilliant writing decision, because this space, much like other Eastern European countries is a space of illegal trafficking of everything from drugs and nuclear weapons to human bodies.  Furthermore, since it is a film that deals with the western and eastern fears of nuclear warfare and a subsequent fallout staging, it is a space like Eastern Europe proves genius, because in its regional name alone it exists an oxymoronic divide between the two sides of the world.  Indeed, when the narrative then moves to the often overlooked Australia things take a decidedly wild turn, suggesting that Brisbane is a place where the Chinese triad has extended its global power.  I am not a person familiar with the demographics or even basic political world of Australia, but considering that it is the "land down under" and is often notably othered as a space in the world, it would seem like the idea location to plan and traffic nuclear weapons, because in a non-theoretical or critically grounded frame of reference, I would admit to saying that Australia would be the last place on Earth I would assume heavy trafficking in anything to occur.  However, writing that very statement would make me inclined to reconsider it as a space that is equal to, if not greater, in trafficking to Eastern Europe.

Key Scene:  The underwater fighting scene is really one of the greatest action sequences I have ever seen in cinema.  While it was made famous by Thunderball, it is perfected here in this film.

First Strike is not a great movie, but it is not unwatchable by any means.  A more "rentable" movie might not exist.

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.

Don't Forget...Stay Out Of The Adult Bookstore: Blast From The Past (1999)

Here I sit again contextualizing a film from 1999, which is proving to be one of the most profoundly important years in cinema, post-New Hollywood.  I was originally turned onto this year as being key cinematically by the dynamic duo over at Battleship Pretension, and was a bit hesitant to fully embrace their argument, particularly considering that at one point they delved pretty deeply into the genre films of the year, I realized there was likely some legitimacy to the argument.  Especially considering that it was the year that established The Wachowski's, as well as David Fincher as important directors with The Matrix and Fight Club respectively.  However, it was also a year where more cult heavy directors took stabs at new cinematic engagements, with David Lynch offering the Disney produced masterpiece The Straight Story while David Cronenberg reworked the themes of his classic Videodrome to consider game based virtual realities in the criminally under appreciated  Existenz.  With a decided push towards the dark the occurred this year, highlighted by Takishi Miike's Audition, it is a bit surprising that I would consider completely altering my top ten list to include a comedy, particularly one whose critical reputation is far less established than all the previously mentioned films.  Yet, when I watched Blast from the Past earlier today I found myself genuinely laughing and engaging with a satire of such excellent composition as to remind me of my previous love for Clueless.  There is a lot to like about Blast from the Past, so much so that I was initially hesitant to praise the film since it appeared to purely be a result of my loving of minor parts and not the collective whole of the film, but given a few hours to let it sink in I am certain that it is a justifiable feeling one that I am certain would find a consensus were people who initially dismissed the film to revisit it with a decades detachment.  Indeed, it came out in a year of cerebral and mentally challenging films, therefore, it is no surprise that a highly idyllic, bright, yet no less critical film would be pushed to the wayside.  Blast from the Past is both highly nostalgic for a simpler time culturally, while also being incredibly forward looking in thematic issues and considerations of who can occupy cinematic space.  Also, it has Christopher Walken, which means it is elevated by default.

Blast from the Past begins in a kitschy version of the 1960's where the real fears of the Cold War linger over America proving particularly dire for Calvin Weber (Christopher Walken) and his wife Helen (Sissy Spacek) who have, under the paranoid direction of Calvin, built a whole fallout shelter their home, one that essentially doubles as a recreation of their home.  During a party, an announcement of possible threats from Cuba lead Calvin and Helen underground to wait out the night, hoping to avoid an imminent bomb drop, yet when a helicopter crashes within the vicinity of their home, a mechanism locks the couple inside their shelter, programed to remain closed for 35 years, wherein any threat of radiation poisoning would be avoided.  This would not be that large of a problem, were Helen not expecting a child within days.  Trapped underground, Helen gives birth to Adam (Brendan Fraser) who proceeds to spend the next thirty five years of his life living completely detached from the world.  When the seal is finally broken, Calvin ventures forth into an America that is far from what he remembers, riddled with crime, transvestites and an adult book store.  Panicking he returns underground and suggest that the family reseal the shelter, but Helen disagrees noting that they need supplies and that Adam needs to be able to experience a world outside of the fabricated domestic space, one of skies and oceans.  The desire is met indirectly when Calvin falls ill and Adam is sent to the surface for supplies.  Hoping also to find a girlfriend while above ground, Adam moves into mid-nineties California hyper-idealistic and wide-eyed.  Within moments he attempts to dump off a ton of rare baseball cards hoping that the money will afford him the ability to purchase the far more expensive items on his mother's shopping list, which includes alcohol and pipe tobacco amongst other things.  While on his quest he meets Eve (Alicia Silverstone) a young woman whose desultory lifestyle runs counter to Adam's idealism, however, their seemingly impossible bond forms an immediate friendship, one that is navigated by Adam's hopes of finding a partner and her assurance that she is anything but what he is looking for, particularly since she fears he is mentally unstable, not realizing their is validity to his seemingly being stuck in a time capsule.  As things unwind, it is clear that Eve cares for Adam and that his wild stories are all but so, leading to their undertaking of bringing aid to Adam's parents, while also delicately dealing with the fact that the two are not ready to move into a post-Cold War world.

The movie plays up on cultural divisions with such restrain and focus it is a surprise that this did not fair better in the cult comedy circles.  While it does jump through some of the clear racial and gender issues a person from the era would face, it plays more on cultural cues and social etiquette differences, both as a means to suggest that the contemporary American society is far from ideal, while also reminding viewers that the fifties were rife with their own issues, clear nods to "the problem that has no name" occurring with the character of Helen.  Similarly, it paints a future where non-normative bodies are excepted, a reality that is still yet to exist, perhaps director Hugh Wilson using this a a mirror to cause viewers to consider how far their personal views on "otherness" stand from the wildly conservative Calvin.  Indeed, because it realizes that to fall too heavily on a single cultural difference, Blast from the Past approaches many cultural differences within a relatively short film, dealing with the state of religion and self-understanding in regards to the fifties, where Adam's mind frame places unquestioned value on the lord's name with blind faith, while on the surface people are so lost and disillusioned as to believe that the Weber's are some sort of second coming and thus spiritual gurus.  More humorous than this, however, are the suggestions that perhaps many of the issues an individual navigates in the world half a century apart are really not too different.  Both Adam and Eve are attempting to navigate their worlds to find the ideal other, momentarily assuming that this shared bond cannot occur between one another.  Characters like Eve's friend Troy (Dave Foley) exist as cultural commentators who possess on the spot observations of the individuals within the film who lack an understanding of their own feelings and inhibitions, perhaps playing somewhat problematically into the "gay character as magical conscience," but no less so that Sex in the City would have been doing at the time.  The closing moments become heavily idealistic, but given that the film does not possess hefty stakes or high intensity action this is fine and helps to make the closing conversation between Adam and Calvin, paired with the sudden invasion of Eve's voiceover not absurd, but appropriate, because it suggest that while the present is not perfect, it is certainly more productive than living in the past or fearing for the future.

Key Scene:  Brendan Fraiser and Nathan Fillion fight in this movie, it may not be the best scene, but it was certainly my favorite.

This DVD is super cheap, it is worth blindly buying.  I am fairly certain you will not be disappointed.

We Are Not Underwater, This Is Really Happening: The Calamari Wrestler (2004)

A recent acceptance into an academic publication has led me to heavily reinvest interest in the manner with which I critically read films and I have been setting aside, in my mind at least, a set of films that I know I want to create papers around, one it particular being the 2007 genre bending Big Man Japan, which reconsiders the Kaiju film by adding a layer of mockumnetary to its narrative, while deconstructing Japanese masculine privilege in the process.  However, I figured this film stood in its own bizarre world and would be somewhat impossible to relate outside of setting it against its wild predecessors in the various Toho films.  Yet, when I hear about a film that focused on the wrestling experiences of a human/calamari hybrid I was rather certain I had found something that would exist, at the very least, in the same space of the cinematically bizarre.  Yet, when I realized that the film was tackling some of the same issues of otherness and loss of male power in a changing Japanese modernity, I was aware that the two films exist in a theoretical framework that first focuses on the state of masculinity within Japanese culture only to immediately dismiss it as a failed notion point of power, one that has been and continually should be undermined for all its absurdity.  Indeed, it is no small accident that both films center their narratives within the notion of combat for viewership, but that will be discussed in more detail in a bit.  It should be noted that The Calamari Wrestler is not the most visually appealing of films and clearly either lacked, or purposefully avoided, a high budget.  I would argue that this is a production choice on the part of those involved to make The Calamari Wrestler come across not as a glossy science-fiction film, but instead; to exist more within lines of the magical realist melodramatic tradition that has the ability to study the human condition from a decidedly detached point of view, while also not become so distancing as to seem impossible.  Sure it is really weird to see a anthropomorphized squid walking about the suburbs of Tokyo, but it is also quite an endearing thing to see him flail his tentacle arms in frustration and stare longingly to the wall as he dreams of past loves.

The Calamari Wrestler takes very little time establishing itself narratively, beginning very in media res with a battle going on between the championship holding wrestler and an up and comer who hopes to make his name in the ring, eventually trumping a great icon of the sport with whom he has been living under the shadow of both professionally and personally in that his girlfriend reveals that she still has feelings for the iconic wrestler to which she was married.  After a successful win, the lights go dark and inexplicably a large squid humanoid enters the ring, quickly defeating the wrestler, much to the shock of the audience and the federations various executives.  Looking at the numbers from the bout, the executives do everything in their power to convince the mysterious calamari wrestler to engage in another fight, hoping that he will take a dive in order to assure the heroic virtues of their young star.  The calamari wrestler is furious at such a suggestion and agrees only to fight on the grounds that it be absolutely real and not staged, hoping to win back the heart of the woman he loves.  Yet, it is this very desire that almost causes him to lose his powers as the calamari wrestler, only managing to be saved at the very last moment by a set of Buddhist monks.  Returning to the bout, the calamari wrestler is stunned when he sees that his opponent has become his own beast man, in the form of a mutated octopus.  While it proves a greater challenge, calamari still wins and goes on to be the champion of the league, as well as an icon within his neighborhood.  Letting his guard down, calamari is attacked by yet another muted man known as The Squilla Boxer, leading the federation to plan yet another huge battle, wherein, they pit the brawn and determination of calamari against the agility and guile of squilla.  The battle is terribly one-sided as squilla brutally beats upon calamari, yet when octopus joins in his aid things are revealed to be far more intertwined than either could imagine, leading to what has to be one of the most unusual reunions in all of cinema, followed by a birth reveal that would give Rosemary's Baby a run for its money.

I mention this film as being a close partner to Big Man Japan, first because they can be seen as unique revisionist Kaiju works, one adding a human component to a genre that is decidedly otherworldly, while the other shrinks down the gigantic monsters to human size, and in the process giving it a degree of human investment.  More simply, the two films manage to ground a genre that lives in a state of excess and cinematic grandiosity.  While it could be contested that the films are simply deconstructionist, particularly Big Man Japan in its mockumenary style, it is far more probable that both intend to reject the sort of masculine entrenchment in the figures of kaiju.  While I am not familiar with Kaiju in any great detail, I did a brief search on Google and discovered that kaiju that are expressly feminine are limited, indeed most websites get creative and include Audrey 2 from Little Shop of Horrors on their lists.  As such, it is a decidedly masculine realm, even for being creatures that are "strange beasts."  Both Big Man Japan and The Calamari Wrestler accept this world to be influenced by the masculine and set about undermining its privilege, whether it be making calamari seem diminutive when forced to exist in a space that does not afford him to use brawn, particularly, the moments when he is shopping, or when Big Man Japan drops the child that is assumedly to be his enemy.  What makes The Calamari Wrestler particularly interesting is that there are layers of masculinity being undermined, competing ones that all find it necessary to evolve to something different to attain power over a competitor.  Essentially, calamari begins as an unusual version of masculinity, one that is mocked and feared, until it is revealed that there is a degree of power and potential in the difference, at which point it becomes the point of desired masculinity.  It would seem at this point that the work is, for all intents and purposes, the opposite of Big Man Japan which chronicles his downfall, yet the reveal at the closing that proves the whole set of bouts to be a result of repressed lack of a paternal figure and a backdoor prodigal son narrative, suggest that a masculine duel that should have existed solely in the private sphere, instead, became a spectacle both of show for the men who wanted their privilege to be acknowledge and of desperation, suggesting that their place in the private sphere leads to their own degree of silencing.  The two films work brilliantly to deconstruct masculinity, if one can get over the layer of absurdity covering each work.

Key Scene:  The entire scene in which calamari works out the initial details for his upcoming match with the federation organizers might be one of the greatest contemporary uses of situation comedy available.

This film needs to be seen, unfortunately, it is hard to come by, but there are ways, one just has to be creative with obtaining the work.

The Idea Of Learning Is To Be Bigger, Not Smaller: Born Yesterday (1950)

One of the many wonderful things about being involved with the Funny Lady Blogathon held at Movies, Silently, is that I was able to read passionate and loving breakdowns of many other bloggers favorite classic comedic performances, many of which I had already encountered and a ton more that sounded absolutely fascinating.  One such performance was that of Judy Holliday in Born Yesterday.  Having been made aware of this film by its inclusion in a handful of "must see movie" texts, I was destined to eventually come across it in a viewing, yet when Holliday was mentioned by Caftan Woman, I knew that prolonging this film was out of the question and am I glad I finally caught up with this work.  Not only is it a refreshing work from George Cukor, but Holliday is nothing short of perfect in a role as the longtime girlfriend of a mob boss, a role which would be reworked and rehashed by multiple directors in the following decades with little to no success and would often cause the actress performing the roles to come off as grating or completely idiotic.  This is not the case in Holliday's delivery of the character, her wandering eyes and cleverly delivered pauses between lines make for one of the best executions of a character archetype ever witnessed on screen.  It would be one thing if the film was entirely carried by Holliday, but that is not the case Cukor makes a Billy Wilder level comedy with the frenetic pacing of a Hawks comedy, often allowing for moments of introspection only when he feels it necessary to allow for the sweeping cinematography of the film's Washington D.C. setting to take over.  Furthermore, Born Yesterday manages to be a rather earnest look at the idea of learning and breaking out of pre-prescribed expectation, a rather powerful narrative when one considers that the film focuses on the empowerment education provides for one woman, who learns to appreciate not only her place in relation to the prestigious history of democracy in America, but in regards to her own gendered relationships with those near and dear to her daily engagements.


Born Yesterday begins with the arrival of noted "tycoon" with mob ties Harry Brock (Broderick Crawford) arriving to Washington D.C., for some unspecified business with big wig senators.  Along with Brock come a variety of lackeys, as well as his mistress Emma "Billie" Dawn (Judy Holliday).  With the help of his somewhat devious lawyer Jim (Howard St. John), Brock hopes to strong arm a few people into making favorable decisions concerning land he owns, while also considering the necessity of marrying Billie who possesses much of his stock through a legal loophole to assure his financial advancement.  Realizing the general pomp and circumstance that comes with the world of Washington politics, Brock becomes hypocritical of Billie's manners and ignorance, thus leading to his hiring of a local journalist named Paul (William Holden) to tutor her in the way of the world.  Of course, Brock assumes that this means some simple rules in etiquette, whereas Paul takes it upon himself to educate Billie in the ways of the world.  Billie takes to her education with much fervor and begins picking up the ideas of democratic values and correct sentence structure, which causes Paul much elation and a growing fondness for Billie, who seems keen to recuperate the feelings.  It is during this learning the Brock finally grows suspicious of Billie's education, seeing her movement towards enlightenment as her stepping above her place, particularly when she begins to correct his grammar and ridicule him for not being aware of basic American history.  Nonetheless, at the demands of Jim, Brock begins to sign away his belongings to Billie in hopes that it will allow them to take further advantage of government loopholes and make huge financial gains.  Billie, however, now fully aware of the ethical division between just and unjust actions and along with some loving prodding on the part of Paul begins to outright refuse Brock and Jim's demands, deciding that she is her own person capable of making singular decisions that will not be predicated upon Brock and his tough guy demeanor.  Wanting nothing more than to escape her lackluster lifestyle, Billie agrees that she will slowly return Brock's holdings to him on the agreement that he never bothers her again, a bargain to which Brock begrudgingly agrees.  Billie now free from the burden of embraced ignorance gets married to Paul and the two are assumedly headed to carry out their life of love and an unending quest for knowledge.

It is precisely the rejection of celebrated ignorance that makes Born Yesterday not only a great film, but one with a particular pertinence in the past few years of American politics.  Indeed, it is not small accident that this film was set in Washington D.C. a place that seemingly thrives upon it being alright to "not know a whole lot."  It should come as both a shock, as well as no surprise, that America has only elected one person with a PhD in all its history, being of course Woodrow Wilson.  It seems as the American voter fears somebody far too educated and well-versed instead preferring people with more reliability, as though to be highly educated is both alienating and undesirable.  This is not to say we have not had intelligent men and women hold public office, it is just made clear in media dialogue that it is less desirable and a thing to be questioned.  To tie this directly to Born Yesterday and Billie's quest for self-knowledge and enlightenment, it is necessary to stand her up against a woman who exuded the idea that ignorance is idea...Sarah Palin.  On the road, Palin constantly reminded people that she did not have time to read current events or keep abreast to issues since she was a mother who worked, amongst other excuses.  In what Palin seemed to think was an empowering statement of her maternal status, ultimately, betrayed her gender by suggesting that the woman is incapable of pursuing learning particularly when she has domestic priorities.  To draw attention to this issue is important no doubt, but to make it excusable and, subsequently, acceptable is highly problematic.  I do not mean to get so political here, but it is worth considering this in contrast to a character like Billie who is expected to occupy her own unique domestic space, one that deters her from education and dismisses her as a stereotype to be consumed by Brock when necessary.  Where Palin would be afforded opportunities to educated herself, she simply avoided it, in Born Yesterday, Billie is at times ridiculed and denied access to her education, particularly when Brock destroys her books.  Yet, it is Billie, a fictional character, who better represents what it means to be an empowered woman, that is both aware of her place in a problematically masculine world, but also willing to cement herself as a woman with her own power in knowledge, a thing that allows her to stand against the most brutish of men.

Key Scene:  The game of gin rummy between Billie and Brock is a moment of perfectly executed cinema that is also incredibly funny.  Holliday's mannerism and delivery are spot on during this entire sequence.

The DVD for this film is rather cheap and while I would hope for an imminent bluray release it does not appear to be in the near future, therefore renting might be the best course of action as it stands.

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.

I Keep My Undies In The Ice Box!: The Seven Year Itch (1955)

First off, I want to thank Movies, Silently for the opportunity to be involved in The Funny Lady blog-a-thon, and be given the excellent task of tackling Marilyn Monroe no less!  I have decided to revisit The Seven Year Itch, a film I have no seen in years, firstly, because I find it to be one of the funniest (if not the funniest) films ever made.  Second, however, I also believe it speaks volumes to the brilliant performer that Marilyn Monroe was, while also allowing her to play with notions of her own place as a sexual icon, as well as the larger idea of male fantasy and expectations of the "ideal conquest."  I picked this movie specifically because it is so funny, and while much of that can be credited to the involvement of Billy Wilder and the droopy-eyed performance of Tom Ewell, it, ultimately, comes down to the masterful delivery of Monroe as a fantastical version of some robotic version of an ideal male woman, who is a risqué model with demure sensibilities and a young, overly idealistic woman who just also happens to have a mature understanding of the complexities of marriage.  While it is never expressly stated, one can assume that the film is a large scale fantasy on the part of the main character and that his fantasy is merely a projection, in which case, the performance Monroe puts on takes another layer of absurdity, nonetheless, being portrayed with a stone-eyed certainty as she delivers lines about retrieving snack foods and undergarments from iceboxes.  Simply put, what Monroe does in The Seven Year Itch is reject everything that the cult of celebrity had created for her, through blowing it all out of proportion, because while the cultural image of Monroe is easily the famous publicity still of her in a white dress catching a draft from a passing subway car, that was merely an instant in this film, it is not reflective of her in the slightest.  One must remember that Monroe also took on serious roles in films like All About Eve, Clash By Night and another Technicolor delight River of No Return.  As such, she is performing a comedic deconstruction of herself within the framework of The Seven Year Itch, one that is half-fantasy/ half-absurdity and all perfection.  I would argue that actors, regardless of gender, struggle to commit to a character with such a degree of certainty as Monroe displays in this racy film that stands as one of the big breaks from the restrictions of The Hayes Code.

The Seven Year itch focuses on the experiences of the shy and sheepish Richard Sherman (Tom Ewell) a well-to-do publishing agent who, like many men living in Manhattan in the fifties, finds himself seeing his wife Helen (Evelyn Keyes) and son Ricky (Butch Bernard) off as they leave town, while he stays in town and continues accruing wealth for the family.  Richard, a schmuck of sorts adheres to every detail his wife lays out for him, including an avoidance of smoking and drinking and a strict diet, all doctor's orders of course.  Richard, who constantly speaks about his love for his wife, nonetheless, fantasizes about all his possible moments of infidelity, while also creating a projection of Helen that dismisses his claims.  Richard finds himself even incapable of thinking about cheating, without the condemnation of his wife.  Seemingly fine simply existing in a liminal space between freedom from his family and a constant reminder of their presence, through slips on roller skates and hidden keys to his cigarette chest, things change for Richard drastically when he is met with a new occupant in his complex, a curvaceous young blonde woman who becomes simply known as The Girl (Marilyn Monroe).  The innocent girl initially asks Richard for help getting into the house which he gladly agrees to do, although it is clear that he is fraught with anxiety over how to help this woman whose stunning beauty is alarming, a matter that is made all the worse when she accidentally knocks a tomato plant onto his balcony later that evening, only missing Richard by seconds.  This accident leads to Richard inviting The Girl down for a drink, to which his fantasies begin running wild from causing the girl to swoon over performances of Rachmaninoff to perfect cocktail recopies.  Yet even as Richard unfolds elaborate plans his reality impedes constantly, through things like the landlord attempting to change the carpeting and a check-up call from Helen.  Despite these constant distractions timing still proves in his favor as The Girl enters and the two hit it off, despite his nervousness, awkwardness and misdirection, leading to a failed performing of not the Russian composer, but instead the simple Chopsticks.  The next day, Richard finds himself despairing over his foolish advances, only to be furthered condemned by a psychoanalytically inclined author that says his desires are a result of pent up frustrations and the like.  Invariably, Richard and The Girl continue seeing one another, although their engagements, aside from innocent kisses are left undisplayed, but an encounter with one of Helen's dear friends leads Richard to realizing where his true concerns should lie and he flees form Manhattan, ultimately, leaving both his fantasies and realities behind him to join his family on vacation.

If one is to assume that much of this film exists in the space of Richard's fantasies, the dream sequences within the already established dream would make the film a sort of meta-fantasy, wherein, Richard has one projection of his own life that is not suited to his liking and simply adds another layer to make it more fantastical or indicative of his personal desires.  This is scene when he is already troubled by the idea that he does not represent the ideal masculine of somebody like Tom MacKenzie (Sonny Tufts) who he suspects his wife to be having an affair with, therefore, he creates another layer to his fantasy that involves The Girl saying that she is only interested in men who, like Richard, are shy and constantly perspiring.  If there is a certain degree of layering to his idealization and desire on Richard's part I would contest that there is also the same amount of twisting and multiplicity within Monroe's performance.  As noted earlier she is playing a heavily caricatured version of the sultry, yet shallow, young model that would encompass male desire, tragically, something she would become known and stereotyped for both on and off the screen.  Yet, Monroe bring a certain vapidness to the role, not because she is a bad actress, that is far from the case (refer to the films mentioned earlier), but because she knows that such a "desired" version of femininity requires that the woman strip away all notions of emotion or a soul and become, like the picture of her in which Richard constantly sneaks a glance, a object of desire without thought or reason.  Incidentally, it is no coincidence that the still of the dress being blown by the subway draft is the most famous scene of the film, despite being only a publicity still, it reflects this same non-animated form of objectification.  The beauty of Monroe while important to the film, particularly when Wilder's script breaks the fourth wall and has Richard suggest that the woman hiding in his house is none other than the real life version of Marilyn Monroe, is secondary to what she is stating about the nature of a desired body both in fantasy and reality.  To Wilder and to Monroe, it is one thing for her character's performance to be one of Marilyn Monroe, but it is secondly so because she is playing into a heavily muted version of herself, one that must only be sexualized because it is realistic to be anything else.  To Monroe this is to be laughed at, and while it may not have been realized at the time, it is certainly the case now, and easily stands as Monroe's funniest performance, and were it not for the unfortunate tragedies that would follow in years to come, I would imagine that this performance would stand up to be one of the single greatest strokes of comedy genius to ever grace the screen.

Key Scene:  All that I have mentioned culminates perfectly in the Rachmaninoff scene, although there are other wonderful moments throughout the film that combine together to make Richard's fantasy world one of the most foolishly funny visions in all of cinema.

This film, along with a ton of other Monroe classics is available in a bluray box set.  The transfer is stunning and the extras are wonderful, particularly the Hayes Code meter that you can have play throughout the film, showing the degrees of "obscenity" that the picture would have received.