A Happy Premise (#30: Bowfinger)

Long before PT Anderson ruffled thetans with The Master, even before South Park did its infamous "This is What Scientologists Really Believe" episode, Steve Martin brought us MindHead:

MindHead, which (as you may have guessed) is a parody version of the Church of Cruise, keeps it together for Eddie Murphy's main character, the erratic and eccentric action star Kit Ramsey by drilling into him the following "happy premises":

HAPPY PREMISE NO. 1: There are no aliens.

HAPPY PREMISE NO. 2: There is no giant foot trying to quash me.

HAPPY PREMISE NO.3:  Even though I feel like I might ignite, I probably won't. 

Words to live by, I'll say. 

#30: Bowfinger

MindHead is a minor satiric subplot to Steve Martin's (dare I say it?) second best film (nothing will ever touch The Jerk), Bowfinger.

Martin plays the titular character, Bobby Bowfinger, a struggling producer/director of Z-movie schlock. Bowfinger gets a golden screenplay from his accountant, Afrim (Adam Alexi-Malle): a sci-fi action epic called "Chubby Rain" - which is a title I can imagine Michael Bay directing and also now makes me think of this:

   

After clumsily interrupting a lunch meeting with a high-powered producer played by Robert Downey, Jr. and mistaking sarcasm for sincerity, Bowfinger sets out to make a movie with the biggest star in the world, Murphy's Kit Ramsey. Problem is: Ramsey has zero interest in Chubby Rain - despite Bowfinger's best efforts at faking as a fellow MindHeader.

No matter, Bowfinger has a solution! Action movie stars just run towards and away from stuff, right? Why not just make the movie without its star knowing he's in it?

So that's what they do. "They" including: a hilariously melodramatic Christine Baranski as the film's resident diva; Heather Graham in her sweet spot as a not-so-innocent Ohioan who "isn't from Ohio"; slack-jawed Kohl Sudduth as the beefcake villian; Jamie Kennedy as the general fix-it man and cinematographer; and the best crew $2,000 can buy (i.e. 4 illegal immigrants who quickly become a crack team of film geeks).

But nothing compares to Murphy's performance in the dual roles of Kit and his twin brother Jiff, whom Bowfinger hires as a Kit stand-in. Murphy is on fire the whole movie - it's a Beverly Hills Cop/Coming to America level performance. Here he is as Jiff, which is just a brilliant comedic creation:

Bowfinger accomplishes a lot of things. It's: a smart satire of Hollywood; an ode to the talentless dreamers of the world; some self-effacing image rehabilitation for Murphy; pokes a stick in the ribs of a notoriously humorless cult; and it takes the Laker girls down a peg. But above all: it's funny. And isn't that all that really matters.

FINAL VERDICT: KEEPER

NEXT UP: BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE*

*Expect a slight delay as we procrastinate on this one.

 

Bourne Again (#28: Supremacy; #29: Ultimatum)

That pun headline is so bad it's good...right? Sorry, I got nothing.

Watching Seth MacFarlane flopsweat his way through the Oscars may have sucked all the funny out of me. Speaking of which...we rarely hit the theaters these days (after all, we have all these DVDs to watch) and when we do, its usually a kid's movie, but here's our quick reactions:

• Of the Best Picture nominees, we saw Argo, Zero Dark Thirty, and Django Unchained. Amelia saw Les Mis as well. Our votes would've gone to Django. Argo was a very good, entertaining movie, so no complaint about it winning, though it seemed there were more deserving options. Ben Affleck gave a good speech and seems like a good guy (he was the bomb in Phantoms, yo!), but he should've won something for Gone Baby Gone instead.
• Christoph Waltz and Quentin Tarantino made us happy, even though Tarantino looked like he just drank a liter of Jagermeister after snorting blow off a stripper's toes. Which is to say, he classed the place up.
• Jennifer Lawrence falling and getting right up made our night and she is (I'm sure) great in Silver Linings Playbook, which we've yet to see.
• Daniel Day Lewis talking off the cuff to Meryl Streep > Captain Kirk and Sound of Music jokes. 
• I'm sure Amour is a great movie. But I don't want to weep like an abandoned child for two hours, which is what all the clips make me think would happen to me if I watched it.
• We agree with Brave winning Best Animated Feature, though our daughter would probably have voted for Paranorman (with which she is somewhat disturbingly obsessed). 
• Sound dudes have really great hair, apparently.
• Russell Crowe and Amanda Seyfried can't sing live either, huh.
• Why was the orchestra not allowed to come? So they could play that hilariously impolite Jaws music without shame as desperate winners try to express earnest emotion?
• Kristin Chenoweth: agreeing to do that seemed like a good idea at the time, huh?
• Are Neil Patrick Harris, Tina Fey and/or Amy Poehler, or Steve Martin available next year?

Anyway, back to the topic at hand...

#28: The Bourne Supremacy & #29: The Bourne Ultimatum

There isn't much to say about these films that wasn't said already in our review of The Bourne Identity. The only "big" change between Bourne the 1st and the 2nd/3rd installments is the replacement of Doug Liman (also known for Go, Swingers, and Mr. and Mrs. Smith) with Paul Greengrass (Bloody Sunday, United 93). Greengrass is known for his handheld documentary feel...but I don't think that strays too much from the tone and style Liman established in the first edition. But Greengrass' style - particularly in Ultimatum - will probably be visual shorthand for gritty action thrillers for a while.

Either way, all of the elements that made the first film great are there, just amped up. The shadowy government conspiracy that drives the plot gets even more labrynthine over the course of the two sequels. Ultimatum features an especially puzzle box story line - one which begins before Supremacy ends and then ties it back together. The action is more hectic and high stakes. And the supporting roles, the Joan Allens and David Straitharns and Albert Finneys of the world, are given meatier material to work with.

 

Also, Julia Stiles.

 

Julia Stiles checks her IMDB page to make sure that's her in the Bourne movies.

I remember thinking it was weird that Julia Stiles was in the first Bourne movie in a pretty inconsequential role. She was big in teen movies at the time and just seemed out of place. Then she showed up in Supremacy in a few pivotal scenes. And then she becomes super important in Ultimatum. She's all like: Hey, just hanging out 'cuz this movie seems kinda cool...yeah, I guess I'll show up for a sequel...and BOOM! major character in trilogy send off. She played a long game, and it paid off. Well, played Julia Stiles. Well played. (For the record: nothing against Julia Stiles. She's okay, I guess.)

 

One interesting thing that occured to me watching these in a row for the first time: drowning as a symbolic thread throughout. Bourne is found in the first movie, floating in the ocean nearly dead. In the second, (SPOILER ALERT), he lets go of Marie underwater. In the third, (MORE SPOILING) he is shot as he plunges into the East River. Even in the horribly misguided fourth installment, The Bourne Legacy (don't and won't own), we meet the Poor Man's Matt Damon, Jeremy Renner, underwater somewhere in Alaska or something. I'm sure there's something deep to say about how our government's secrets and lies will eventually submerge us all or something and that's what the movies are about. But I'm just an idiot watching DVDs at home, so who cares what it all means? Just kind of cool that the movies tie together that way. 

 

FWIW, ranking the films, having watched them all again, I'd go: (1) Ultimatum; (2) Identity; and (3) Supremacy. But they're all KEEPERS.

 

NEXT UP: BOWFINGER! 

The Man Who Knew Too Little (#27: The Bourne Identity)

When I think Sean Connery, I think Indiana Jones' dad. Needless to say, I'm not a James Bond guy. 

 

I like the spy movies which focus on the minutiae of day to day spooking, like Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy or The Good Shepherd or Austin Powers. Given the choice between a conspiracy thriller like 3 Days of the Condor or an action packed globetrotter like Die Another Day, I'm taking 3 Days of the Condor every time.

All of which is a long way of saying, The Bourne Identity is my type of spy movie. But with more fight sequences.

#27: The Bourne Identity

Remember when people thought it was weird to cast Matt Damon as a lead in action movie? Yeah. That was stupid. On the upside, those people gave us this:

Damon plays Jason Bourne - which will probably be how 99% of moviegoers remember him despite great turns in everything from True Grit to The Informant. Or, at least, Damon plays a guy who is sometimes known as Jason Bourne. Washing up unconscious and bullet-ridden on a fishing boat in the Atlantic, Bourne has no memory of who he is. Following the only clue he has - a bank account number embedded in his hip - Bourne pulls a bunch of currency and stack of passports out of a safety deposit box. Soon after, he's throwing $20,000 at a stranger named Marie (the fantastic Franka Potente) to get him to Paris and away from the shadowy government agency that is chasing him. Bourne pieces a lot of it together, facing off with a retinue of great character actors (Chris Cooper, Brian Cox, Walton Goggins!*, Clive Owen, to name a few) along the way, and earns himself and Marie some small peace - at least until the sequel (NEXT UP!).

The Bourne Identity is distinctive mainly for what it doesn't rely on. Namely: CGI; crazily implausible stunts; hyperactive close-ups and smash cuts. All of which are (sadly) staples of the modern action picture. Instead (despite its fairly ridiculous amnesiac assassin premise), the movie takes a gritty, bare-knuckle, these-people-could-do-this-stuff approach. And it pays off in spades.

There's a ton of great little touches that make everything seem grounded and real. Such as Bourne ripping an emergency map off the wall to plot his exit from American embassy security or quickly surveying a road atlas and interrogating Marie on her vehicle maintenance before the world's best car chase featuring a used Mini Cooper.

The wheels are a little splashy.

In no small part, the film works due to Damon's performance. Like Harrison Ford (and Bruce Willis, when he isn't just coasting) Damon has that eery ability to simultaneously to be an in-over-his-head regular Joe and a superhuman badass killing machine without cognitive dissonance splitting your brain in half. Cementing the Harrison Ford analogy, I think this scene is the most hilariously unexpected development in an action movie since Indy shot that dude with the swords in Raiders:

  

I think its safe to say that without Jason Bourne, the Daniel Craig iteration of James Bond would have never happened. As a proud owner of a Casino Royale DVD (yes, the only Bond movie we own), I'm good with that.

FINAL VERDICT: Keeper.

*If you're not watching Justified on FX, you should. Get it together, friend.

It Ain't No Trip to Cleveland (#26: Bottle Rocket)

Before we begin, we must apologize to you, Dearest Reader, for the relative sparse output as of late. There are several explanations for the lag between the last post and today: (1) we're lazy; (2) we're busy; (3) Justified, Downton Abbey, The Americans, and The Walking Dead; and (4) we're lazy.

We shall endeavor to do better.

Now, back to bidness.

#26: Bottle Rocket 

Bottle Rocket stars Luke Wilson as Anthony Adams and Owen C. Wilson (yes, that's how he's credited)* as his best friend Dignan. Anthony's fresh out of a mental hospital for "exhaustion" (though as his baby sister aptly points out, it's odd that he's exhausted despite not having a job or any responsibilities). Following Dignan's 25 year plan for their future as master criminals working for Mr. Henry (casting coup James Caan), Anthony and Dignan team up with rich boy Bob Mapplethorpe# (Richard Musgrave) to knock over a book store. On the run from Johnny Law, which ain't no trip to Cleveland, they hide out in a middle of nowhere motel somewhere in Texas. There, Anthony falls in love with a housekeeper named Inez (Lumi Cavazos, charming). No spoilers, but the team disbands and heads their separate ways. That is, of course, until they reunite for (drum roll, please) one last BIG SCORE to prove their worth to Mr. Henry. And they wear awesome jumpsuits.

I gotta get me one of those jumpsuits.

When you've become used to the highly manicured full scale picture book films Wes Anderson produces these days, it is sort of a shock to watch the relatively low key goof of a heist movie he made for a debut. Sure, the DNA of what would be the Wes Anderson style is there. Emotionally stilted characters with a slightly off kilter view of the world. Meticulous attention to detail. Terrific and unexpected music choices. Characters with bizarre names like Future Man. Futura font (which unfortunately is not a font type for blogger). All the same, there is a shaggy dog sensibility to this movie and relatively "normal" characters, both of which will be excised from future Anderson films. Perhaps that's why I like it so much. It isn't too neat and perfect (which I think is a fair criticism of, say, The Life Aquatic). That little rough around the edges makes the movie both funnier and more emotionally satisfying.

I also have a pet theory that Owen Wilson, who co-wrote this, Rushmore, and The Royal Tenenbaums with Anderson, was the one who injected the "heart" and "lightness" into those movies. I like this theory because: (1) it cuts against Wilson's tabloid image as a drug-crazed sex weirdo and (2) it explains why I felt totally detached from and unmoved by The Life Aquatic and The Darjeeling Limited. I did, however, love Moonrise Kingdom and The Fantasic Mr. Fox. So maybe my theory is B.S.

Anyway, this movie is funny and charming and not nearly as stand-offish as Anderson's more recent ouevre, if you're not a fan. Check it out.

FINAL VERDICT: Keep it.

NEXT UP: The Bourne Identity, Supremacy, and Ultimatum (TRILOGY TIME, BITCHES!).

*The "C" stood for class, which he lost when he made Shanghai Knights. Oooh, BURN! (Shanghai Noon was a perfectly acceptable Western karate buddy picture but LONDON! Royalty? Disbelief no longer suspended).

#No relation to the artist. I think. Unless this is a joke I don't quite get. Which is possible.

Cocaine is a Helluva Drug (#25: Blow)

Yes, it is, Rick James, yes it is.

#25: Blow

Blow is the true story of George Jung (no relation to Carl), the Massachusetts boy who brought Pablo Escobar's pure Colombian cocaine to our fair shores in the 1970's. Played by Johnny Depp in a succession of increasingly horrible blonde wigs, Jung lights out for Manhattan Beach, California in the late 60's with no particular plan of action; just knowing he does not want to be a sad-sack working class Joe like his dad (Ray Liotta). There, he meets Paul Reubens' Derek Foreal, the effusive owner of a hair salon for men. With Foreal's connections, Jung quickly becomes the king of pot in Manhattan Beach. From there, "Boston George" is only a short stint in federal prison with a Colombian cellmate away from (as he puts it) "a bachelor's in weed to a PHD in cocaine." Using a small fleet of private planes, Jung starts smuggling Escobar's coke to the US, making enormous amounts of money, landing a beautiful Colombian wife (Penelope Cruz), and a having a gorgeous daughter in the process. Of course, it all falls apart, as it always does.

There is an undoubted surface appeal to Blow. Director Ted Demme keeps things moves briskly, with a canny sense of the styles and moods of the decades in which the film takes place. There's also a smart refrain to the film's narration: Jung keeps describing his life in different periods of time as "perfect" - which begs the question of why the hell he didn't just stop there. Depp is in fine form, self-assured, ambitious, but vulnerable - he's good at showing a guy who is totally out of his element but wants to project complete control. And Reubens makes things interesting whenever he's on the screen.   

"Today's secret word is: benzoylmethylecgonine."

However, a second look reveals that the movie is more style than substance. And a lot of that style feels secondhand. The opening sequence showing Jung's childhood can't help but recall the beginning of GoodFellas (no doubt Liotta's presence doesn't help that impression). A later scene with a coked out Cruz flipping out in a fast-moving car also is reminiscent of the end of that flick. Of course, you can't see a movie about cocaine in the 70's/80's, especially one set in Florida for a good portion of its running time, without seeing shades of Scarface. Even the music feels cribbed. Compare:

With:

For the record, the song is "Rumble" by Link Wray. (Though I guess you can't really claim anyone "stole" from Tarantino, the master thief himself.)

So, while the movie is enjoyable, it all sort of feels like something you've seen done better before. Nor does it help that Jung - the supposed protagonist - really doesn't seem to possess any redeeming qualities, besides he says he loves his daughter a lot. We kept thinking: this guy is just clueless, self-deluded, overly-ambitious, and money-hungry. In fact, the film's saving grace could have been a bait and switch moment at the end, where you think he might get a redemptive moment, which is quickly (and rightfully) snatched away. That saving grace is undone, however, by immediately plastering a picture of George Jung's real face over the closing credits as some sort of hero.

Also dimming our enthusiasm of the movie was the knowledge that its director would die just a year after its release from a cocaine-induced heart attack. Ted Demme showed real promise with this film and the 1994 dark comedy The Ref. It's too bad.

FINAL VERDICT: Pitch it.

NEXT UP: Bottle Rocket.

I Am The Walrus (#24: The Big Lebowski)

When did it become uncool to like The Eagles? Or hip to hate them? I don't get it.

 

On this, the Dude and I disagree. I Can't Tell You Why (see what I did there?).

The Dude and I agree on beverages, however. Believe it or not, I wasn't much of a beer drinker back when I first started drinking. Thankfully, I had the Dude to guide me. And White Russians did right by me for quite a long while. I have yet to drink sarsaparilla, Sioux City or otherwise. But thanks, anyway, Dude.

#24: The Big Lebowski

"Obviously, you're not a golfer."

On the heels of the film which would widely be regarded as their masterpiece, Fargo (we'll get there eventually), the Coen Brothers released what seemed at the time to be a disappointing and aggressively minor stoner comedy. But time has been kind to The Big Lebowski, which now has its own fan fests held at (you guessed it) bowling alleys countrywide. And for good reason.

 

Jeff Bridges (who wouldn't get an Oscar until Crazy Heart, many years after his best role) is iconic as Jeffrey "The Dude" Lebowski (or "His Dudeness" or "El Duderino" if you're not into the whole brevity thing). The Dude lives in Gulf War I era Los Angeles. Unemployed and fond of his j's, the Dude leads a simple life. He likes to roll in a local bowling league with his buddies, the Vietnam-obsessed shabbos observer Walter Sobchak (John Goodman, also iconic) and the constantly out of his element Donny (Steve Buscemi). 

The film opens with a classic MacGuffin. Two unknown assailants, one a Chinaman (or Asian-American, to use the preferred nomenclature) confuse the Dude for some other Jeffrey Lebowski and piss on a rug that really tied the room together in the Dude's apartment. Convinced by Walter to not let sleeping dogs lie, the Dude tracks down the Big Lebowski (David Huddleston) to get his rug replaced. He winds up not just mixed up in the apparent kidnapping of the Big Lebowski's trophy wife, Bunny (Tara Reid), but (misadventures) involving German nihilist porno actors, the sexual hangups of one Maude Lebowski (Julianne Moore, employing the anachronistic Mid-Atlantic film dialect to great effect), his landlord's lyrical dance concert, a 15 year old joy rider, and a fascist Malibu cop fond of hurling coffee cups. Oh yeah, and Sam Elliot shows up in full on cowboy mode to explain it all. Sort of.

Just from that description alone, you can gather that there's a complicated plot lurking underneath the film's stoner movie facade. Faithfully subverting the film noir genre while at the same time subtly lampooning 90's American culture is no small feat, but the Coen Brothers manage to pull it off. Not to mention that the movie is consistently hilarious and rewards repeat viewings with eminently quotable dialogue, such as:

Also, I found this while googling images for this review:

A movie that inspires something like that has to be good, right? I'd write more. But I'm going bowling instead.

Final verdict: KEEPER

Next: BLOW

This Isn't How It Happens (#23: Big Fish)

On a daytrip this weekend, we tuned into NPR (because we're latte-drinking-bleeding-heart-lefty-intellectual-type liberal stereotypes). First, we listened to The Moth, which is a show where people tell stories live in front of an audience. This particular episode featured recordings from "story slams," where regular audience members put their names in a hat to speak. It was pretty mesmerizing to listen to people be brutally eloquent, good humored but unsparing about their own lives.

 

Following that, an episode of This American Life. This particular episode was about how children arrive at perfectly logical but perfectly wrong conclusions about the world. It started with an anecdote about a little girl who believed her friend's dad was the tooth fairy for years because her friend told her she saw him put the tooth fairy's present under her pillow. (In a terrific touch, her parents left her notes "signed" by her friend's dad with the dollar or whatever the tooth fairy left after she told them the tooth fairy's secret identity.) Next, they discussed a study done by researchers where a child is told to pretend there was either a puppy or a monster in an empty box. After the child acknowledges that there is no puppy or monster in the box, the researcher leaves the room. You can guess what happens: the kids told to imagine a puppy sneak a peek inside the box; the kids told to imagine a monster steer well clear of it.

 

I couldn't help but think of both of these radio shows while watching our next movie.

 

Mm..frozen time circus popcorn.

#23: Big Fish

 

Edward Bloom (Ewan McGregor/Albert Finney), in his own telling, was a giant in a small world. One day, he meets an actual giant, Karl (Matthew McGrory - actually 7'6" tall, which is kind of giant) and together, they head off for bigger and better things. Along the way, or so the story goes, Edward: sees his own death in the eye of a witch (Helena Bonham Carter); visits an ephemerally perfect town with one terrible poet (Steve Buscemi); joins a circus run by a slightly demented Danny DeVito (but when isn't he demented?); courts the girl of his dreams (Alison Lohman/Jessica Lange); goes MIA while in the service (stealing away a pair of singing Siamese twins from behind enemy lines in the process); unwittingly assists in a bank robbery; and loses his wedding ring in a very big fish, causing him to miss the birth of his only son, Will (Billy Crudup). Or so the stories go.

 

The vast majority of Big Fish's running time is dedicated to this complicated mythology Edward Bloom has built around his own life brick by brick in constant tellings and retellings around the dining room table, at weddings and other social occassions, really any time anyone would listen. But the "true" story of the film takes place in a more mundane world. Edward is old and dying. Will returns home out of duty, though he's tired of Edward and his well-worn yarns. Will, expecting his first child by his new wife (Marion Cotillard - who knew she was in this?), just wants to know the truth about his dad's life before he goes. Edward just wants to keep telling his stories until he can no longer. At the end, they find a way to finally get on the same page.

 

What could be a corny Hallmark movie turns into something much more interesting in the capable hands of director Tim Burton (side note: 4 out of  our first 23 movies are oddly Burton films) and a deep cast. Billy Crudup (where he been at?), particularly, keeps Will sympathetic and relatable, when the role could easily fall into whiny jerk territory. Both McGregor and Finney imbue Edward with undeniable charm (though McGregor's Alabama dialect is more than a little suspect). And Jessica Lange and Helena Bonham Carter are Jessica Lange and Helena Bonham Carter, which is to say very good.

 

Circling back to the This American Life episode discussed at top, the researchers found that at a certain age (I can't remember, but I think it was 6 or 7), the kids stopped looking in the box or scurrying away from "the monster" when the researchers left the room. The older kids reached a cognitive stage where the imaginary could be separated from the real. They might still imagine that puppy or monster in the box, but they stop wondering if it might really be there.

 

If Big Fish is about anything, it is about being able to, every now and then, accept those things you know are imaginary as the truth. Especially when what is imagined or embellished, like the stories told on that Moth episode, get at something true that reality simply can't convey on its own. Believe in that puppy or that monster, but you don't always need to look in the box. That's what art does. And maybe that's what our memories and our lives really are.

 

We both fully expected this to be a serious PITCH IT candidate, but judging by the tears at the end, we need to keep this unabashedly romantic dream of a movie.  

 

Final verdict: KEEPER.

 

Next Up: THE BIG LEBOWSKI.

American Bitches (#22: Best in Show)

#22: Best in Show

I mean, if there was nothing else worthwhile in this movie, it would still be worth owning for that scene alone, right? Jennifer Coolidge basically plays the same character in everything, but she's never been better.

Fortunately for us, Dear Readers, there's plenty more to enjoy in Best in Show than just that. Helmed by Mr. Jamie Lee Curtis himself, Baron Christopher Guest (Yes! Dude's a Baron! I had no idea! Thanks Interwebz!), Best in Show is a largely improvised comedy about the world of competitive dog-showing. Competing in the Mayflower Dog Show are: Coolidge, and her trainer/friend with benefits played by Jane Lynch (laying the foundation for her future Glee fame); 

Michael Hitchcock and Parker Posey as the braces-laden couple from yuppie hell; 

Guest as a nut-and-ventriloquism-loving bloodhound owner; 

the well-known-in-the-biblical-sense Catherine O'Hara and the two-left-footed Eugene Levy; 

and Guest's Spinal Tap castmate, Michael McKean, as the better half of John Michael Higgins intentionally over the top shih tzu owner.

As you know, if you've seen any of these people in anything, they are hilarious.

But best of all is Fred Willard, who takes Bob Uecker's Major League schtick to a whole new level, as the hopelessly clueless dog show commentator:

Nobody tells bad jokes as well as Fred Willard. Although, admittedly, I couldn't help but think of his recent (ahem) sticky situation when his commentary ran a little on the blue side. Still, the man is brilliant. His commitment to absolute boorishness is amazing.

And that's the thing. This movie proves the old adage that comedy is just tragedy with timing. This friggin' dog show (of all things) is hilarious to us because it means so friggin' much to the characters on screen. These people are living and dying by their dog's ribbon placement. Their whole self-worth is wrapped up in whether Beatrice has her busy bee. If it wasn't, we just wouldn't care enough to laugh. But we do. Man, I could talk or not talk about this movie forever and still find things to not talk about.

Final Verdict: KEEPER!

Next Up: BIG FISH

Keaton, Unbound (#21: Beetlejuice)

Before we talk about our 21st film: let's talk Goulet. Yes, Robert Goulet.

The real Goulet has a supporting role in today's movie as a big shot Manhattan real estate developer. And like all things Goulet, he totally nails it. Goulet!

#21: Beetlejuice

Riding high on the success of Pee-Wee's Big Adventure and with Batman in development, Tim Burton had the pick of the litter as far as next projects go in 1988. So what did he choose? A fantasy horror comedy about suburban ghosts trying to scare away some artsy fartsy yuppies, which features stop-motion animation sandworms, Harry Belafonte tunes, and Robert Goulet. Because of course.

A young, thin, and oddly costumed (seriously - who wears a black and white flannel shirt with a red undershirt and khakis?) Alec Baldwin plays Adam, the doting husband to Geena Davis' Barbara. Adam and Barbara are living the dream in a big country house in small town Connecticut. That is, until they die one day. They find themselves trapped at home, which would be fine, except for the new owners - the Deetzes, a relocated couple of Manhattan social climbers. Delia Deetz, played by the always-terrific Catherine O'Hara, quickly sets about remodeling the house in the most gauche manner possible, while her step-daughter, Lydia (a winningly morose Winona Ryder), makes friends with the ghosts upstairs. Adam and Barbara, neophytes to the haunting game, seek the assistance of a self-proclaimed "bio-exorcist" named Betelgeuse:

It's pronounced Beetlejuice. Go ahead, say it 3 times.

Things get a little out of hand.

According to Wikipedia, which is second only to graffiti on men's bathroom stalls in terms of accuracy, Burton initially wanted Sammy Davis, Jr. for the titular role. While that admittedly would be kind of awesome (in a grotesque, flaming car kind of way), it would have deprived the world of one the greatest comedic performances of all time. What else can I say but MICHAEL F'IN KEATON! Consider this scene:

I mean, come on. As Kenny Benya would say: "That's gold, Jerry. Gold." 

Keaton is an absolute force to be reckoned with in this movie. Hilarious, wild, disturbing, manic, and frightening. He owns every single minute he's on screen. Really, my only complaint is he isn't in the damn thing enough. If only Beetlejuice was featured in this as heavily as he is in the cartoon show that followed it! Bring on the long-rumored sequel: Beetlejuice Goes Hawaiian! (Which is, I kid you not, supposedly still in development).

I'd go see a sequel. But there's gotta be KEATON in it. Or, I'm out.

Aside from KEATON's iconic performance, the film has a lot going for it. Burton hadn't yet let his art direction be the entire point of his movies, and his idiosyncratic eye just adds to the mood here. There are plenty of great touches, like the idea of the afterlife as a bureaucratic nightmare filled with suicide victims forced to work as civil servants for all eternity. 

Burton also elicits lively, game performances from the whole cast and gets the whole thing wrapped up in an hour and a half. It's tight, goofy, slightly scary but fun. Perfect palate cleanser for Halloweentime viewing.

Amelia's a bit more ambivalent about this one. She laughed uproariously at the scene embedded above but was otherwise more interested in her iPhone for much of the short running time. I think she's still getting over seeing this at a too-young age in theaters and getting scared and leaving.

(Side note: Our 3 and a half year old daughter, who has a thing for the macabre (she loves Nightmare Before Christmas and Paranorman), uttered several "oh goshes" while covering her mouth (her sign that she is scared) during this, but giggled a lot as well. I almost turned it off several times, feeling pangs of guilt for exposing her to such scares at a tender age, but she insisted on seeing what happened to Beetlejuice. I fear she's going to turn into Lydia Deetz).

Final Verdict: KEEPER

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