2019 Blindspot Pick #12: Twenty Bucks (1993)

Tags

Drama, Meet 'em and Move on

The money that rolls from the printers of mints
Is not unlike people who leave fingerprints.
Each purchase takes part in a life barely known;
Each bill changing hands is a seed that is sown,
And what will grow from it, for good or for ill,
Depends on the spender, as always it will.
_____________________

MPAA rating: R (for language and an extended scene of nudity)

Despite repeatedly falling behind on my Blindspot list this year, I am officially caught up and finishing right on time! I don’t know how Twenty Bucks ended up being the last movie to watch, since I’ve had a curiosity about it for some time. As many of you might know, I’m quite partial to what I call Meet-‘Em-And-Move-On films, where we follow one person as others float in and out of their life (think Forrest Gump and Mr. Holland’s Opus). Twenty Bucks is exactly that kind of movie I so enjoy, with the difference of following an object, a $20 bill that is passed around through various people’s stories.

There is no one main plot, but certain individuals matter more than others based on time spent with them and whether they pop up again later, including Brendan Fraser as an engaged man with poor judgment, Elizabeth Shue as an aspiring writer, Linda Hunt as a homeless lady desperate for a lotto ticket, and Christopher Lloyd and Steve Buscemi as a pair of small-time convenience store crooks. There’s a fun sense of chance, irony, and serendipity as the bill changes hands and incurs increasing damage from the surprisingly large and recognizable ensemble, which also includes Gladys Knight, William H. Macy, Matt Frewer, and David Schwimmer, all of whom do well with their limited screen time, especially Lloyd as a cool and professional criminal.

I must admit that, when it was over, I wasn’t instantly in love with Twenty Bucks. The circuitous plot and some characters’ strange decisions kept me appreciating the film at a distance, which wasn’t helped by an explicit and far too long nude scene. Given a couple days’ retrospect, though, my regard for the film has grown. At times, it wasn’t always clear how the stories would intersect or how the $20 bill would connect them, but that only served to hold my interest, and some of the connections weren’t made clear to me until the credits rolled. My natural appreciation for the genre has strengthened my fondness for this particular entry, and I liked how each story served as an example of what money could mean to different people: something to ruin relationships, something to threaten or kill for, something to pass on to your children, something to pin all your hopes and dreams on, and so forth.

As described in a behind-the-scenes featurette I saw, the screenplay for Twenty Bucks apparently originated from writer Leslie Bohem’s father, who penned a version of it back in 1935, and this film was an effort to resurrect this kind of follow-the-object movie that had been popular back then. (I’ll have to check out some of those ‘30s films that I’d never heard about before.) It does make me wonder what this movie might have looked like if it were filmed at that time, minus the objectionable elements, but Twenty Bucks still proved to be a largely enjoyable incarnation of my favorite sub-genre and a good cap-off to this year’s Blindspot selections. It doesn’t match The Red Violin, which is still my favorite follow-the-object film I’ve seen, but it makes me wish more such movies would be made.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
656 Followers and Counting

 

Version Variations: Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939, 1969)

Tags

Classics, Drama, Meet 'em and Move on, Musical, Romance, Version Variations

A young boy’s mind is a fallow field
With unknown promise yet to yield,
And every word their minds import
Of criticism or support,
Of firm reproof or merely sport,
Contributes to the man revealed
At last when boyhood is cut short.

To nobly tend this field with care,
Since parents can’t be always there,
Requires a person resolute,
Profuse with passion, temper mute,
With love of learning absolute.
Such people tasting praise is rare,
But they produce the finest fruit.
_____________________

MPAA rating of 1939 version:  Not Rated (should be G)
MPAA rating of 1969 version:  G

Those who’ve seen my Top 365 movie list might know that I love Mr. Holland’s Opus.  I’ve just always been drawn to the story of an unassuming teacher finding worth in the service of his students.  I’ve always vaguely known that 1939’s Goodbye, Mr. Chips, based on a 1934 novella, was the original version of such a story, but I’d never gotten around to seeing it. When I then learned it had been remade as a musical in 1969, I figured it would be a prime chance to compare the two in one of my overdue Version Variation posts.

The first Goodbye, Mr. Chips is known as one of the members of the great movie year of 1939, managing to win Robert Donat the Best Actor Oscar over some stiff competition, including Clark Gable in Gone with the Wind. Having seen the winning performance, I can now see why Donat edged out the rest, letting his range of sometimes inscrutable emotions play out with great subtlety as he ages from a fresh-faced new Latin teacher in 1870 to a celebrated educator in 1933, weighed down with all the joys and sorrows of a lifetime. (My VC enjoyed the film a lot, but as a huge Rhett Butler fan, her loyalties still lie with Gable.) Like Mr. Holland, the respect Mr. Chipping ends up with is hard-won, but much of it stems from his marriage to the lovely Kathy Ellis (Greer Garson), whom he meets on a European holiday. I would have loved for Garson’s role to have been longer, but, even with limited screen time, her warm presence successfully brings the prosaic Chipping out of his shell, improving his reputation at the school.

In many ways, Goodbye, Mr. Chips is exactly the kind of movie I like, a film spanning decades wherein one character meets various people and experiences alongside the ebb and flow of time, fostering a sense of fond nostalgia. I particularly liked his run-ins with successive generations of the Colley family, showing how static his life at school is while his students go on to have lives of their own. Mr. Holland’s Opus had some similarities, but whereas that film allowed time for characters to be eventually remembered, the turnaround in Goodbye, Mr. Chips is sometimes too fast, introducing a character only for us to learn what happened to them years later in a few minutes’ time. Ultimately, Goodbye, Mr. Chips is well-deserving of its classic status, and while there’s no danger of it supplanting my preference for Mr. Holland’s Opus, it was wonderful seeing a forerunner of a story I’ve come to love.

And then there’s the 1969 remake with Peter O’Toole and Petula Clark, which fits into the not-so-modern sentiment that remakes hardly ever match the original. There’s nothing wrong with making it a musical, allowing the songs to mainly serve as interior monologues, but the songs are largely forgettable, except for a couple clever lyrics, and O’Toole just isn’t much of a singer, trying out the Rex Harrison method of talk-singing but less successfully.

The plot has the same basic elements: Chipping is a somewhat unpopular Latin teacher at a boys’ school who meets and marries a girl named Katherine (Clark) and eventually becomes a mainstay of the institution. There are still the lines of boys sounding off their attendance and a very similar ending, but the filmmakers made significant plot changes elsewhere. For one, the time period is moved up, no longer starting in the 1800s but in the 1920s with Chipping already an established teacher; thus, the war he experiences is World War II rather than World War I.

The worst change, though, is that Katherine is no longer a cycling suffragette Chips meets on a mountain but a music hall singer with an unsavory past, and their formerly brief courtship takes up the entire first half of the film, which also features an intermission to pad out its greater length. There’s pushback against their marriage where there was none before, along with Roaring ’20s parties and O’Toole’s wife-at-the-time Siân Phillips as an annoying socialite. I know I said that I wished Chipping’s wife was in the original more, but I was referring to Greer Garson’s version; the writers of the remake essentially rewrote her whole character, and while Petula Clark was great in the role, it was such a weirdly unnecessary change from the original.

Even so, the latter half (or really third) of the film is much more similar to the first film and is better for it. O’Toole and Clark do well with their roles (O’Toole even got an Oscar nomination and won a Golden Globe), although O’Toole’s Chipping is slightly more stiff and crotchety, even in scenes supposed to be romantic. The film overall was solid enough, but, as with so many remakes, it just doesn’t compare with the original.

I guess films about long-suffering teachers who touch the lives of their students just naturally appeal to me, and Goodbye, Mr. Chips, whatever the incarnation, fits that mold. The original is clearly the better of the two, though, and certainly the one I’d recommend first. While the scene wasn’t in the 1939 movie, I couldn’t help but recall Mr. Holland’s Opus when the second film’s Kathy organizes a school musical with the students, which made me wonder how much either version of Goodbye, Mr. Chips really inspired the 1995 film. They’re so different in setting and character, and yet so similar in theme, particularly in their final heartwarming sentiments (see below). I suppose that’s what speaks to me most of all.

Best line (from 1939 film but something similar in both): (Mr. “Chips”) “I thought I heard you saying it was a pity… pity I never had any children. But you’re wrong. I have… thousands of them, thousands of them… and all boys.”

 

Rank of 1939 version:  List Runner-Up

Rank of 1969 version:  Honorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
646 Followers and Counting

 

VC Pick: The Red Violin (1998)

Tags

Drama, Meet 'em and Move on, Mystery

Where was this music before it came here
To strum my emotions and tickle my ear?
Where did this instrument formerly play
Before it revived to distinguish this day?

In hand-crafted wood, in dormancy kept,
Awaiting their moment, the melodies slept
Until the right hand, the right passion and skill
Compelled euphony from its prison to spill.

What hearts has it shattered? What lives has it blessed,
As lifelong companion or transient guest?
I cannot be sure of what lies in repose
In the unwritten symphony it alone knows.
_____________________

MPAA rating: R (mainly for a couple scenes with unnecessary nudity)

My VC obviously knows what I like. I had never even heard of this Canadian drama, but the way she described it piqued my interest. Indeed, it turned out to be exactly what I’d hoped, a Meet-‘Em-and-Move-On movie, my favorite unofficial subgenre in which a character’s life or journey introduces them to a parade of acquaintances and influences that typically brings their story full circle. Forrest Gump and War Horse are good examples, but whereas those follow a person or animal, The Red Violin follows the titular instrument as it passes from owner to owner through centuries, finding new meaning in the hands of each player.

The Red Violin is really five stories in one, and while it’s not as potentially confusing as Cloud Atlas, the narrative does jump around a bit. In a way, it begins at the end, with the violin being put up for auction, before leaping back to its creation at the hands of an Italian master (Carlo Cecchi) in 1681. From there, the violin passes on to 18^th-century Austria, 19^th-century England, and Communist China. I absolutely loved the editing that wove connections between stories that share little in common other than the violin. In between each new tale, we return to the 1600s, where the violin maker’s wife receives a tarot card reading, and we revisit the auction house in 1997, where every bidder has a unique reason for wanting this particular violin.

There’s a great deal of authenticity to each vignette, allowing us to grasp the time and place even without an explanatory subtitle. Each tale plays out in the language of the country—Italian, German, English, Chinese, etc.—and there aren’t many recognizable actors to call attention to themselves, Samuel L. Jackson being the only big name star. (Some may also recognize Jason Flemying, Colm Feore, and Greta Scacchi.) The music is fantastic, both the feigned violin playing itself and the compositions, both graceful and aggressive, by John Corrigliano, who won the Oscar for Best Score, and it adds even more sophistication to the elegant camerawork and production design.By the end, I wasn’t positive how I felt about The Red Violin, but my admiration for it has grown with time. I especially admire how, in its journey through history, the violin becomes a symbol of everything music can stand for: a true love, a damaging obsession, an inspiring muse, a steep cost, a science to study, a cause for persecution, a treasure worth protecting. It’s imperfectly ambitious and didn’t provoke the strong emotions I usually expect from a Meet-‘Em-and-Move-On, but it was still an engaging and epic journey, punctuated by a revelation that wasn’t exactly a twist but more of a slow realization confirmed by the end. Beautiful, sad, and passionate in equal measure, The Red Violin is proof that my VC’s tastes sometimes do match my own.

 

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
511 Followers and Counting

 

Lion (2016)

Tags

Biopic, Drama, Meet 'em and Move on

I saw a young boy among beggars,
A large metal spoon in his fist.
He’d found it somewhere
In a state of despair,
Too terribly lost to be missed.

I sipped at my soup in the window,
Entranced by his curious stare.
With a ravenous look,
Every mouthful I took
He mimicked and sipped at the air.

I could have just smiled and left then,
Averted my eyes toward the door,
But I gazed at this boy
With a spoon for a toy
As if he’d never used one before.

While others passed by the poor beggars,
I crossed the street, frenzied and thronged.
Soon at the boy’s side
At the turn of his tide,
I helped him find where he belonged.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

So this is why one of the first things my parents taught me to memorize was our home address! Lion may have been overshadowed by the more prestigious Best Picture nominees, but it’s an outstanding film and one likely to leave viewers reaching for the tissues by the end. Directed by debuting director Garth Davis, it is based on the true-life story of Saroo Brierley, following him from a lost boy in India to his adoptive home in Australia and back.

Young Sunny Pawar portrays Saroo as a five-year-old, who resides in a small town in India, where his mother, sister, and elder brother Guddu (Abhishek Bharate) eke out a poor but happy life. When Guddu unwisely brings Saroo along for a job near a train station, Saroo accidentally ends up trapped on a train, hurtling away from home for miles before arriving at a foreign place where he can’t even speak the local dialect. It’s utterly upsetting for the boy and similarly disorienting for the audience as Saroo calls pitifully for help that never comes. From then on, his life becomes a series of rude awakenings; every time he falls asleep, he awakes to some new danger or peculiarity, and only the kindness of strangers leads him to a chance at happiness with the Brierleys (Nicole Kidman and David Wenham) in Australia.

Once Saroo grows up into Oscar nominee Dev Patel, the film loses some steam, focusing on his self-destructive relationship with his girlfriend (Rooney Mara) and his online pursuit of his original family. It’s hard to make a Google Earth search compelling, but the film does its best, and the end result of Saroo’s quest is undoubtedly worth it. As good as Patel is, the brightest point of the second half, aside from the ending, is Nicole Kidman as his adoptive mother Sue, the kind of patient and loving parent every lost child deserves. It’s understandable that Saroo initially feels guilty about searching for his first home, afraid to seem ungrateful for Sue’s affections, but their scenes together capture the sensitive and unconstrained bond between mother and son.

There’s more than just the acting to praise, though. For example, the score by Dustin O’Halloran and Hauschka is gorgeous and perfectly enhances the emotion of the film. The artistry also extends to the cinematography, which is lush and vivid, especially the overhead landscape shots that show off the natural beauty of both India and Australia.

While I did get a bit misty-eyed, the end didn’t quite bring me to tears, though that’s more on me than the film since I heard a few sniffles in the theater. My VC hasn’t seen it yet, but I suspect she’ll have a stronger reaction than I, especially since she always bawls at the end of tearjerkers like The Color Purple. Perhaps one reason I particularly enjoyed Lion is that it fits into my beloved, self-titled genre of the “Meet-‘Em-and-Move-On movie,” which follows a character through various acquaintances and ends with a reunion. (For further clarification, I compiled a list of my favorites.) It’s this kind of film that packs the strongest emotional punch for me, and it’s been a while since such a film was made to Oscar caliber. The source of its title may not be apparent at first, but Lion is a tribute to the transformative power of adoption and a poignant journey of a film not to be overlooked.

Best line: (Sue Brierley, to Saroo) “Because we both felt as if… the world has enough people in it. Have a child, couldn’t guarantee it will make anything better. But to take a child that’s suffering like you boys were. Give you a chance in the world. That’s something.”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2017 S.G. Liput
453 Followers and Counting

I Am David (2003)

Tags

Drama, Family, Meet 'em and Move on

 

Many a time have I carelessly smiled
While others in tears are despised and exiled.
Many a time have I taken for granted
A thing that to some would seem rare and enchanted.

Many a time have I cursed my bad luck,
My vain trivialities running amok,
When many would beg for a life such as mine,
Where the greatest annoyance is no cause to whine.

I cannot know the pain others must bear,
Each has his own that he can’t always share.
Yet in the sharing, we gain a small taste
Of lives and laments that our brothers have faced.
_________________

MPAA rating: PG

I’m not entirely sure why I checked out I Am David from my local library, the diverse stock of which has provided me with an equal measure of gems and duds in recent months. There was nothing particularly intriguing about the DVD case, and its main featured actor was Jim Caviezel, who is typically good but not what I would consider A-list. Thus, I had the rare opportunity to experience a movie I’d never heard of with hardly any preconceptions, and it impressed me in a quiet, wholesome sort of way and made me now curious to read the 1963 Danish novel on which it is based.

The eleven-year-old David is played by Ben Tibber in his only film role, and the film begins with David’s escape from a Communist prison camp in Bulgaria, following the careful directions of an unseen voice. Bearing a sealed envelope, he is instructed to head for Italy and then north to Denmark, with the added caution to trust no one. David himself is a child devoid of joy. When a baker he meets asks him for a smile, he doesn’t seem to understand the concept, never having had any reason to smile back in the camp. He’s a profoundly serious boy, and Tibber plays him with earnest gravity as he encounters new people, places, and emotions along his route.

I Am David has received a good deal of criticism in addition to fond adulation. Both critics and my VC have commented on how unrealistic portions of David’s journey are; sometimes his passage seems too easy, while other times he’s met by stereotypes and dubious acting. I can’t completely argue with these points; I myself had some issue with the ending which seemed unexpectedly simple and rushed considering the slower rate of his previous travels.

Yet I Am David transcends most of these complaints by its unassuming nature. What it succeeds at is a look at the refugee experience through the eyes of an innocent. Everything that happens is through David’s eyes, eyes that have seen grief they cannot understand. Much of the dialogue is simple and straightforward, words David could easily understand. Likewise, I attributed the occasionally exaggerated acting to how David viewed things; one exchange with two friendly parents who push David when he refuses to tell them where he’s going leaves David cringing in fear, unable to comprehend any kind of discipline but cruelty. Disjointed flashbacks of David’s time in the camp and his last day with his friend Johannes (Caviezel) become more meaningful over time, as David’s guilt and fear of anyone in a uniform are both confirmed and relieved by his experiences on the outside. Despite the rushed ending, I appreciated how the connected threads of the flashbacks provided a fitting conclusion to an overall poignant film.

I was surprised to see after the fact that I Am David was the directorial debut of Paul Feig, who is much better known for directing comedies like Bridesmaids and the recent Ghostbusters remake; his beautifully-shot first feature shows a dramatic potential to which Feig is welcome to return. As I watched I Am David, I was also pleased to realize it fit into my favorite subgenre of Meet-‘em-and-Move-On movies, the type that follow a protagonist through the ups and downs of a journey and the varied acquaintances met along the way. These interactions range from a brief run-in with an ignorant American couple to an extended stay with a generous painter (Joan Plowright). Some of these meetings seem to validate David’s distrust of strangers; others challenge him to not view the world as he did in the camp. Treating its subject matter with subdued respect, I Am David seems like a perfect film to introduce young viewers to unpleasant subjects like refugees and forced labor camps, depicting their struggles but imbuing the end result with hope.

Best line: (Sophie, the painter) “David, most people are good. They have families and friends, and they just want to live their lives as happily as they can. Oh, there will always be bad people in this world, and you’ll usually know them when you meet them, or sometimes you won’t, but you can’t let that stop you from living your life fully and freely, and making friends, and seeing the goodness in people, because if you don’t do that, you’ll never find any happiness.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2016 S. G. Liput
401 Followers and Counting

 

My Top Twelve Meet-‘Em-and-Move-On Movies

Tags

Lists, Meet 'em and Move on

Not sure what a Meet-‘Em-and-Move-On movie is? That’s not surprising since it’s a label I invented, but you’ve surely seen many such films. It’s an unofficial subgenre that I am always deeply moved by and includes many of my favorite movies. In fact, this list may mirror my top movie list overall due to my personal connection with many of these examples.

I call them Meet-‘Em-and-Move-On movies (MEAMOs) because they follow a single character or group throughout a journey of some kind, sometimes a quest, sometimes a personal mission, sometimes the key events of life itself. Throughout said journey, they meet various, often quirky characters who somehow affect them or vice versa and move on, sometimes meeting the same characters later. Usually (though not always) there is some climactic reunion or a look back at all those met along the way, and it is this element that especially tugs at my heartstrings with powerful themes of friendship, love, or forgiveness.

It took me a while to realize the commonalities among these movies and why I enjoy most of them so much. My earliest encounter with the Meet-‘Em-and-Move-On, which helped solidify my admiration for such stories, was Kate DiCamillo’s picture book The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, one of my favorite children’s books since it brought me and my mom to tears. Stories like this especially rely on how well they are told, building character in the diverse travelers on the road of life and suffusing increasing meaning and interest into the trip and its destination. Most of these films I count among my favorites, though I’m ranking them on both my personal preference and on how well they fit the criteria of a Meet-‘Em-and-Move-On. I’m always on the lookout for new examples of this personal genre, so feel free to comment! On to the list!

 

12. The Way Back (2010)

 

 

Not to be confused with The Way or The Way, Way Back, The Way Back tells the supposedly true story of a group of prisoners, who escape from a Russian gulag in Siberia. They then proceed to walk all the way to India. The journey is incredibly harsh, ranging from frigid taigas to scorching deserts, yet they carry on, supporting each other along the dangerous road. Jim Sturgess, Ed Harris, Colin Farrell, and Saoirse Ronan are all in top form, and the reunion at the end touched me deeply.

 

11. The Way (2010)

 

 

When Thomas Avery (Martin Sheen) must travel to France to claim the body of his dead son (director and Sheen’s real son Emilio Estevez), he’s not planning a journey, but he decides to take up his son’s unfinished pilgrimage along the Camino de Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Carrying his son’s ashes, he encounters an overweight Dutchman (Yorick van Wageningen), a snide Canadian (Deborah Kara Unger), and an Irish writer (James Nesbitt), all walking for different reasons, along with various other travelers and locals. While Avery first sees the hike as a self-imposed obligation, he transforms over the journey from cynic to pilgrim, and everyone finds realistic catharsis, even if it’s not what they expected.

 

10. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)

 

 

While this fantastical Brad Pitt opus is a prime example of a meet-‘em-and-move-on film, there are others that I just enjoy more. Adapted by Eric Roth (who also wrote #3 on this list) from an F. Scott Fitzgerald story, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button follows the titular character throughout a backwards life. Born as an old man, Benjamin grows younger over the years as he meets and learns from his adopted mother (Taraji P. Henson), a brief lover (Tilda Swinton), his first employer (Jared Harris), and of course his true love Daisy (Cate Blanchett). I love how some of the unique characters he meets pop up later in the story, and the final scenes add an epic and magical sweep to all those who touched Benjamin’s uncommon life.

 

9. Taking Chance (2009)

 

 

While I was only recently introduced to this underappreciated modern classic from HBO (thanks again to MovieRob), I realized after seeing it that part of its power stems from its MEAMO trappings. Kevin Bacon won an Emmy playing Lt. Colonel Michael Strobl, who escorted the body of slain soldier Chance Phelps back home. During the trip, he briefly connects with fellow Americans, who render due reverence and small but meaningful offerings of respect to the deceased and his escort. As Strobl meets and moves on, he experiences the gratitude and grief of a nation.

 

8. Paulie (1998)

 

 

A favorite of mine since childhood, Paulie is a film that I like to call a mix of Forrest Gump and Lassie but with a parrot. Many MEAMOs are actually recollections of a main character, and in this case the caged Paulie (voiced by Jay Mohr) recounts his life to a Russian janitor (Tony Shalhoub). Beginning with his first dear owner Marie, who taught him to speak, Paulie describes his separation from her and his ongoing quest to reunite. Gena Rowlands, Cheech Marin, and Mohr himself play his varied owners along the way, who teach him everything from manners to burglary, but Marie is always his goal. This was a personal tearjerker of mine for a long time.

 

7. War Horse (2011)

 

 

Further proof that a MEAMO can also follow an animal, even one less anthropomorphized than Paulie, War Horse is modern Spielberg at his best. The bond between English farm boy Albert Narracott (Jeremy Irvine) and his horse Joey is established early, and when Joey is sent to serve as a steed in World War I, that bond serves as strength to sustain them through the horrors of war. As he survives where other don’t, Joey journeys between owners, from a British captain (Tom Hiddleston) to two German brothers to a French farmer and his granddaughter. While Joey himself may be seen as a blank slate, he acts as witness to the stresses, reliefs, and camaraderie of battle.

 

6. The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

 

 

It may not seem like an obvious fit, but Shawshank is an example of how a Meet-‘Em-and-Move-On can focus on a static character as others drift through his life rather than the other way around. Tim Robbins is Andy Dufresne, a wrongfully convicted prisoner of Shawshank State Penitentiary. While his friendships are mainly with a small group of jailbirds, particularly Red (Morgan Freeman), he also endures cruel inmates, placates hostile guards, and connects with more sympathetic prisoners, whose moving on can be sharply tragic. It does end with a reunion too, so it counts.

 

5. The Five People You Meet in Heaven (2004)

 

 

Mitch Albom’s ingenious novel deserved a good adaptation, and this Hallmark film delivered it in a truly affecting style. After Eddie (Jon Voight), an aged amusement park maintenance man, dies from an accident, he meets five key people from his life, which is unveiled through flashbacks of his childhood, his service in World War II, and his seemingly worthless life afterward. These five people serve to emphasize the theme of many MEAMOs, that people leave unexpected influences on those they meet and one cannot fully know in life how they have affected others for good or ill. Seeing this made clear to Eddie is both heartwarming and heartbreaking, and the reunion at film’s end is one of the few things that can still bring me to tears.

 

4. Finding Nemo (2003)

 

 

While not the only animated MEAMO, Finding Nemo is the best, following the familiar but unparalleled formula of separation, journey, and reconciliation. Marlin the clownfish (Albert Brooks) loses his son to human divers and must brave the entire ocean to save him. Accompanied by lovable Dory (Ellen DeGeneres), he encounters a multitude of marine acquaintances, from sharks to sea turtles to jellyfish to whales. By the end, the journey has transformed his relationship with Nemo in all the best ways. I can only hope that next year’s Finding Dory can even come close to this Pixar classic.

 

3. Forrest Gump (1993)

 

 

The quintessential example of a Meet-‘Em-and-Move-On film, Oscar winner Forrest Gump follows Tom Hanks’s devoted dimwit from rural Alabama to the jungles of Vietnam to the shrimping waters of Louisiana. All the MEAMO elements are here: a key protagonist, quirky adventures, acquaintances who pop up again later on, and a longed-for reunion (though that part isn’t as prominent as in other films). In addition to the fictional characters Forrest meets and moves on from, he also bumps into various historical figures during his life, leaving an impact on them and vice versa. This is the film that helped me to define what it is I love about this kind of movie, and it’s one to which I keep returning time after time.

 

2. Mr. Holland’s Opus (1995)

 

 

As much as I love Forrest Gump, Mr. Holland’s Opus still edges it out. Another example of a stationary protagonist, this is the story of a music teacher (Richard Dreyfuss), who inspires class after class of high school students while struggling with his deaf son and personal lack of fulfillment. The teacher-student relationship is a perfect example of how one’s actions can have a far-reaching influence on another’s life. When Mr. Holland’s full impact is revealed to him along with the culmination of his musical aspirations, it’s one of the most satisfying lump-in-the-throat scenes ever.

 

1. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001, 2002, 2003)

 

 

Imagine my delight when I realized that my favorite movie trilogy fits into my favorite genre. Since the MEAMO might simply be considered a quest movie, Frodo’s quest to destroy the one Ring definitely qualifies. He and fellow hobbit Sam meet dwarves, elves, men, monsters, Gollum, more men, a giant spider, and more orcs, and in true MEAMO fashion, these comrades and enemies tend to fall away and resurface as the quest continues. Once the Fellowship breaks up, there are actually three intertwining “quests,” and though there are separations and returns aplenty, the final reunion is nobly poignant, enhancing the sense of just how far these characters have come on their journey, which is what Meet-‘Em-and-Move-On movies are all about.

 

Here are some other examples of the MEAMO style, in alphabetical order. I don’t particularly like a few of these, and some barely qualify, but thanks to the power of the genre, they all have their potent moments.

 

A League of Their Own (1992) – This dramedy about women’s baseball is a rather tenuous example, but the reunion at the end seems to make it fit the mold.

The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman (1974) – The inspiring life of an African-American woman is traced from slavery to the Civil Rights Movement.

Big Fish (2003) – Tim Burton’s take on the genre is a little too out there for me but still good.

Brave Story (2006) – This anime quest gains depth as it continues, though it’s somewhat reminiscent of a video game.

Children Who Chase Lost Voices (2011) – Another anime quest with beautiful animation and emotion.

The Color Purple (1985) – This adaptation of Alice Walker’s novel features one of the most touching reunions ever filmed.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (2011) – This affecting drama follows a boy who scours New York City and interviews many citizens for any clue about a key left by his father, who died on 9/11.

Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey (1993) – Two dogs and a cat travel over mountains in search of their owners.

The Killing Fields (1984) – This real-life drama about Communist Cambodia isn’t exclusively a MEAMO, but the latter half has elements of it.

Life of Pi (2012) – Again, the lifeboat scenes don’t quite fit the mold, but the colorful lead-up stories do.

Little Big Man (1970) – Something of a Western precursor to Forrest Gump, with an age-spanning performance from Dustin Hoffman.

The Odd Life of Timothy Green (2012) – A sentimental tale of a perfect son with leaves.

Over the Garden Wall (2014) – An Emmy-winning animated miniseries with a basis in fairy tales; overly weird in spots but with a unique style.

The Power of One (1992) – An occasionally cruel but touching drama set in South Africa.

Secondhand Lions (2003) – A sweet and quirky tale of a boy sent to live with his two grumpy great-uncles with colorful pasts.

Slumdog Millionaire (2008) – Best Picture winner with a feel-good ending, even if the rest doesn’t always feel good; another good example of minor interactions influencing the main character’s journey.

The Straight Story (1999) – A rather boring but pleasant tale of a man’s cross-country trek on a riding lawn mower.

Watership Down (1978) – Another animated example with rabbits in search of a new home.

The Wizard of Oz (1939) – Dorothy’s journey through Oz is as classic as classic can be.

 

Taking Chance (2009)

Tags

Drama, Meet 'em and Move on

 

 

To soldiers we send to the other side

In pain and grief and bodies still—

Esteem is the least we can provide.

 

When enemies suddenly surfaced to kill,

Due honor was given to young Private Chance

In pain and grief and bodies still.

 

His body and others would no more advance.

Homeward he went with Marine Michael Strobl;

Due honor was given to young Private Chance.

 

Everywhere everyone noticed the noble,

Mournful delivery, precious cargo.

Homeward he went with Marine Michael Strobl.

 

No greater debt does society owe

To those who return in a flag-buried box,

Mournful delivery, precious cargo.

 

We mustn’t ignore those who bear our worst shocks.

To soldiers we send to the other side,

To those who return in a flag-buried box,

Esteem is the least we can provide.

_______________

 

(For the sixteenth day of NaPoWriMo, the optional prompt is for a terzanelle, a hybrid poetry form involving repeated lines.)

While war films aren’t my favorite genre, I have always had the greatest respect for the military and all who risk and devote their lives to keeping their nation safe. While countless other films have depicted the heroism of soldiers in every war, no film captures the honor and deference they deserve like Taking Chance. A big thank-you to MovieRob for introducing me to this short but meaningful HBO film, which stands as the most moving testament to fallen heroes I’ve seen.

Kevin Bacon won an Emmy for his portrayal of Lieutenant Colonel Michael Strobl, the real-life Marine who escorted the body of PFC Chance Phelps from Delaware to Wyoming, during the Iraq War. He’s a desk-bound family man who loves his wife and kids but feels inner regret when he compares his courage to that of the slain soldiers who pass through Dover. As simple as it might seem to escort a body, every character and every frame of Taking Chance are fully aware that this is no ordinary body. It is the body of a hero, a man cut down in the prime of life while fighting for his country. I had no idea that bringing home a dead serviceman was such a diligent and careful process, one which treats their sacrifice with the utmost reverence. As we were watching, my VC commented that she hopes every soldier is indeed given this kind of respect, for they so deserve it.

Once the cross-country flight begins, the film becomes a “meet-‘em-and-move-on,” that favorite sub-genre of mine which follows a character as he encounters various people on his journey. In this case, those people are ordinary Americans who recognize the significance of Strobl’s mission and treat it with empathy, kindness, astonishment, and solemnity. These people have varying relationships to the military, whether as soldiers themselves or friends or family of servicemen, and by the time Strobl’s mission is complete, he can honestly pass on to Chance’s family the sincere grief of a nation. Just as Strobl didn’t know Chance Phelps in life, many of us may not possess a personal connection with those who have died defending us. Yet Taking Chance is an emotional reminder that, regardless of political views or wartime objections, we all owe our soldiers a profound honor, one which they may not always feel in life but thankfully receive in death.

Best line: (Lt. Colonel Strobl) “If I’m not over there, what am I? Those guys, guys like Chance… they’re Marines.”   (Charlie Fitts, who knew Chance) “And you think you’re not? Want to be with your family every night—you think you have to justify that? You’d better stop right there, sir. You’ve brought Chance home. You’re his witness now. Without a witness, they just disappear.”

 

 Rank: Top 100-Worthy

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

294 Followers and Counting

#1: The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001, 2002, 2003)

Tags

Action, Drama, Fantasy, Meet 'em and Move on, War

(Major spoilers ahead)

 

Three films to rule them all,

Three films to top them,

Three films to contests call

And effortlessly stop them.

 

In ages long past, there were forged mighty rings,

And one was the greatest, to rule over kings.

‘Twas forged by the Dark Lord, one Sauron by name,

Who barely was beaten when men and elves came.

Isildur, however, retained the One Ring,

Which went on to spend centuries poisoning

The mind of poor Gollum, obsessed with his prize,

Until it was picked up by one of small size.

This hobbit named Bilbo returned to the Shire

And kept the Ring, growing in secret desire.

 

On Bilbo’s birthday, he intends to depart,

Although nephew Frodo is close to his heart.

The wizard Gandalf bids the hobbit farewell

But, wishing old Bilbo’s temptation to quell,

Insists that the Ring stay behind at Bag End,

For Frodo to keep safe, if not comprehend.

When Gandalf discerns that the Ring is the One,

He sends Frodo off since the hunt has begun.

With friends Samwise Gamgee and Pippin and Merry,

The hobbit seeks Bree on a life-saving ferry,

For nine fallen kings known as Ringwraiths now ride

To claim Frodo’s ring, knowing he cannot hide.

 

As Gandalf must deal with the sudden betrayal

Of white wizard Saruman, Frodo’s travail

Is still far from over, but he is defended

By Strider (or Aragorn), who’s well-descended.

When Frodo is wounded by one of the Nine,

The elf maiden Arwen assists him in time.

In Rivendell, Frodo finds rest with his friends,

Until a new journey Elrond recommends.

With Aragorn, Gandalf, Sam, Pippin, and Merry,

Plus Boromir, Legolas, and Gimli hairy,

Frodo heads to Mordor to end the Ring’s power,

As Sauron looks on from Barad-dûr’s tower.

 

When one mountain blocks them with avalanche thunder,

The Fellowship hesitantly passes under.

Through Moria’s mines and dark dangers galore

They dare, since they cannot turn back anymore.

A battle and balrog claim Gandalf, alas!

The others get out since the foe cannot pass.

Then on to Lothlórien they make their way,

Where Lady Galadriel lets the group stay.

A vision lets Frodo know what he must do,

And soon they depart down the river anew.

 

The wiles of the Ring come to tempt Boromir,

Who menaces Frodo when no one is near.

When Saruman’s fierce Uruk-hai then attack,

The men, elf, and dwarf prove that courage none lack.

Yet Boromir falls to his comrades’ dismay,

And Merry and Pippin are taken away.

As Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, all three,

Go after the hobbits in captivity,

Both Frodo and Sam head to Mordor alone

To finish the quest in the wilds unknown.

__________________

 

As Frodo and Sam wander on with their quest,

The creature called Gollum proves more than a pest.

They catch and convince him to act as their guide;

Though Gollum assists, Sam is quick to deride.

Through labyrinths of stone and a haunted marshland,

The trio continue with threats close at hand.

They find Mordor’s entrance, the dreaded Black Gate,

Much too well-defended to now infiltrate,

So Gollum (or Sméagol as he was once known)

Suggests a dark way through a tunnel of stone.

As Frodo starts trusting him, Gollum must face

An identity crisis, one half to erase.

While traveling further through Gondor’s frontier,

They’re captured by Boromir’s kin, Faramir.

 

Meanwhile, the elf and the dwarf and the man

Are chasing the Uruks as fast as they can.

In Rohan, the creatures are slaughtered that night

By banished Rohirrim while making their flight.

While Merry and Pippin take shelter with Ents,

The shepherds of trees who ignore world events,

The others find Gandalf, alive, clad in white,

And join him to set Rohan’s monarchy right.

King Théoden sags under Saruman’s sway,

But Gandalf will not let the rogue wizard stay.

With Théoden now in his right mind once more,

He does as was done with past dangers before,

Vacating the city through mountain paths steep

And biding behind the great walls of Helm’s Deep.

 

As Saruman’s army arrives seeking blood,

The men and elves battle the sword-wielding flood.

While Merry and Pippin are sad and upset

By ponderous Ents still unmoved by the threat,

King Théoden, Aragorn, and all the rest

Defend for their lives from the Uruks, hard-pressed.

For when the foe blasts through impregnable walls,

Despair enters in as their brave defense falls.

 

While Frodo and Sam are held captive by men,

Who mishandle Sméagol, made bitter again,

The Ring allures Faramir’s inner desire

To prove himself to his unpleasable sire.

In Osgiliath, as the Nazgûl attack,

A change of heart shows strength that many men lack.

 

King Théoden rallies his warriors then

To ride out proclaiming the valor of men,

And Gandalf arrives with Rohirrim in tow

To charge with the sun and thus finish the foe.

As Helm’s Deep is won, the Ents see for themselves

That Saruman’s crimes harm not just men and elves.

They storm Isengard with a most righteous rage,

And ancients prevail in their last war to wage.

The good and the free have thus won battles twain,

But darkness will strengthen before it must wane.

The hope of all Middle-earth rests in a pair

Of hobbits whom Gollum intends to ensnare.

_________________

 

While Frodo and Sam follow Gollum, whose past

Reveals the corruption the Ring can work fast,

The rest of the Fellowship soon reunite

To celebrate triumph in their recent fight.

Yet Pippin is tempted to study a sphere,

A dangerous seeing stone called Palantir,

Which gives them a glimpse into Sauron’s next plan,

To crush Minas Tirith, the threat posed by Man.

 

When Gandalf takes Pippin to outrun the foe

And warn Gondor’s capital of coming woe,

The steward of Gondor, the Lord Denethor,

The father of Boromir, knows of the war.

He’s losing his mind and deplores Faramir

In mourning his brother, both cruel and severe.

Insisting his son display loyalty vain,

He sends him to fight where he’ll surely be slain.

Though Faramir sadly submits to his will,

The wizard Gandalf has a plan to fulfill

And sends word to Rohan to come to their aid,

Through beacon fires magnificently displayed.

 

While Merry’s preparing to fight for the peace,

Assisted by Éowyn, Théoden’s niece,

Both Frodo and Sam have a difficult time

In mounting stone stairs Sméagol says they must climb.

His influence turns Frodo’s mind against Sam,

Who’s forced to turn back by a Sméagol-y scam.

Within a dark tunnel of webbing and murk,

A monstrous spider called Shelob does lurk;

Though Gollum had hoped she would earn him the Ring,

His master escapes and sends him plummeting.

As Frodo continues, the spider surprises

Till Samwise the brave takes her down a few sizes.

 

When Elrond reforges a sword legendary

For Aragorn ever to wield and to carry,

The Grey Company leaves King Théoden’s side

To seek the assistance of traitors who died.

To grand Minas Tirith, Rohan’s armies ride

To aid the beleaguered of Gondor inside.

While Denethor’s sanity cracks from the strain

Of Faramir’s loss, though he isn’t yet slain,

The men and the wizard defend the White City

From hideous hordes that refuse to show pity.

When Théoden’s forces arrive with the sun,

The battle’s tide turns, though it isn’t yet won.

When great oliphaunts join this most epic fray,

It takes a ghost army to carry the day.

 

As Gandalf saves Faramir from Denethor,

Sam rescues poor Frodo from orcs of Mordor.

With much heroism and losses endured,

The victors, to keep Frodo’s mission obscured,

March on to the Black Gate, diverting the gaze

Of Sauron’s great eye, ever watching ablaze.

Through barren wastelands, Sam and Frodo proceed,

Weighed down by the Ring from which all must be freed.

Though Gollum attacks, Frodo reaches Mount Doom

But falls to temptation that tends to consume;

It’s not until Gollum, for his Precious’ sake,

Bites off Frodo’s finger, a deadly mistake,

That Sauron’s One Ring in the fire is cast

And evil is unmade and vanquished at last.

 

It looks like the end for the two hobbits spent,

But Gandalf retrieves the small heroes he sent.

In Rivendell, Frodo is thrilled to once more

Embrace his old Fellowship left long before.

In Minas Tirith, grateful free peoples bow down,

And Aragorn humbly accepts Gondor’s crown.

Though years of peace follow, for Frodo it seems

The scars of his quest are still haunting his dreams.

When elves take their leave of mankind’s Middle-earth,

They give final passage to heroes of worth.

As Bilbo and Gandalf depart from these shores,

It’s Frodo’s time too, and the journey restores.

Farewell to his friends, ever faithful and true;

Farewell for a time until all is made new.

_________________

 

This is it, the top of my list and, in my opinion, the greatest trilogy ever made. I know that is a tall claim, but no other film series matches the emotional power, memorable characterization, and epic scope of Peter Jackson’s original cinematic tour de force. Before their release, I had never read the books or had any exposure to J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic magnum opus, so these films came as a total surprise to my family and me; what we expected to be “just another movie” turned out to be something truly magnificent.

The Fellowship of the Ring has been acclaimed as the greatest fantasy film of all time; even with the detractions of literary purists, the film certainly succeeds in crafting a wholly convincing Middle-earth and capturing the spirit of its diverse inhabitants: the curly-haired tranquility of Hobbiton; the Stygian menace of the Nazgûl; the luminous nobility of the elves; and the repulsive terror of orcs, balrogs, and the Kraken’s second cousin. The hobbits especially are among the series’ most endearing creations, bucolic folk fond of peace, pubs, and pipes but capable of unexpected heroism.

Fellowship is more episodic than the other two films, as the travelers grow in number and pass from city to wilderness to caves to forest to river, yet amid all the walking, we get to know these characters more deeply than one would expect: hesitant Frodo, faithful Sam, the comic relief duo of Merry and Pippin, sapient Gandalf, conflicted lover Aragorn, awesome Legolas, untossable dwarf Gimli, corruptible Boromir, and so on. The film also features my favorite sequence of the entire trilogy, the tense and visually stunning journey through Moria, full of colossal architecture, subtle wisdom, fearsome creatures, and a climactic sacrifice. The showdown with the troll and the Khazad-dûm collapse were the turning point that convinced me of the immensity of this story, and Frodo’s world-weary gaze once they escape confirmed its emotional punch. By the end of the film, I’m always eager for more.

Being bookended by even greater films, The Two Towers is understandably the least of the trilogy, but it nonetheless includes some essential additions to an already exceptional cast. While the sudden introduction of Rohan’s horsemasters (with similar names like Éowyn, Éomer, Théoden, Théodred, etc.) might be confusing for the uninitiated, they add another texture to this captivating land. Though the flesh-and-blood characters are engaging enough, the special effects team outdid themselves with two brilliantly rendered eccentrics. Andy Serkis’s motion-capture performance as Gollum/Sméagol is among the film’s highlights, his raspy voice and spindling physicality perfectly capturing the creature’s tragic state and inner turmoil. Likewise, Treebeard’s lumbering presence is as convincing a living tree as one can imagine, and the deep, protracted voice of John Rhys-Davies (doubling as Gimli) fits him to a tree…I mean, tee. Again, there is no shortage of riveting action sequences, including a skirmish between riders of horses and wargs, the prodigious siege of Helm’s Deep which surpasses any other depiction of medieval warfare, and my second favorite battle sequence of all, the attack of the Ents on Isengard. The latter two battles converge in the climax for a truly epic conclusion, even as Sam delivers a heartfelt speech setting the noble yet very human stakes.

My VC was especially eager for The Return of the King and, not being familiar with the books, was constantly terrified for the beloved characters, especially Frodo. She was pretty much in tears for the entire latter half of the film, from concern and happiness and from the sheer epic scale of the images before her. While it didn’t have quite the same effect on me, I wholeheartedly agree that this third film is the greatest ever made, as the culmination of the trilogy and a monumental depiction of the triumph of good over evil. Along with Titanic and Ben-Hur, it won the most Oscars ever, eleven total, and holds the record for the greatest Oscar sweep since it won everything for which it was nominated; it’s also the only fantasy film to win Best Picture and deservedly so. After journeying through two already admired films with these characters, the emotions are in high gear, devastated grief at Faramir’s sacrifice and Frodo’s rejection of Sam, heartache at Théoden’s final moments and Shelob’s stabbing of Frodo, bittersweet joy at the quest’s success and Frodo’s relieved parting glance. Like the previous two films, there are moments of unbridled awesomeness worthy of sudden cheering, like Legolas and Éomer’s single-handedly taking down enormous oliphaunts, Éowyn’s feat of female empowerment, or Aragorn’s employing an undead ace up his sleeve. The two greatest sequences are the lighting of the beacons, a perfect combination of jaw-dropping New Zealand scenery and Howard Shore’s legendary score, which is my VC’s favorite part of the whole trilogy, and the battle of the Pelennor Fields, particularly Théoden’s charge; the looks of fear on the orcs’ faces are what I imagine will be seen when the Lord returns and evil is finally stamped out. Though the multiple endings have drawn some criticism and even mockery, none of them are needless, and all serve as most satisfying closure, perhaps just with a bit too much fading in and out. Every time the credits start to roll, I feel that I’ve watched something magnificent.

Since I first saw The Lord of the Rings trilogy, my family and I have become fast fans, buying enough merchandise to probably finance one of The Hobbit films. We’ve purchased the original books, guide books, books about the films, a documentary about the films, calendars, CDs of the score, action figure playsets, and both the original films and the extended edition box set. The extended edition is now our preferred version, contributing nearly two hours of fascinating additions that complement rather than detract from the original. It’s become a tradition for my family to watch all three films in a row, usually around Christmas, as an annual reminder of how much we love this story.

While I typically shy away from violent films, and The Lord of the Rings does contain plenty of hacking and even decapitations, the battle scenes still show considerable restraint for the most part, especially for a director known for gory horror movies; plus, the film’s fantasy setting precludes any instances of profanity or foul language, which isn’t even missed. Instead, the language carries a memorable nobility foreign to modern-set films, such as the monologues of encouragement from Gandalf or from various warriors before battle (“Ride for ruin and the world’s ending!”; “It is not this day!”) The music is also particularly marvelous, and Fellowship’s “May It Be” by Enya and The Return of the King’s “Into the West,” performed by Annie Lennox, easily make my End Credits Song Hall of Fame. (“Gollum’s Song” at the end of The Two Towers isn’t quite in the same league.) In addition, it occurred to me that one more reason I enjoy the films is that Frodo’s journey at least could be considered a “meet-‘em-and-move-on” story, since he encounters several others on his quest and is ultimately reunited with many of them. By the way, (Lost alert) I must mention Dominic Monaghan, who plays Merry as well as troubled rocker Charlie on my favorite TV show and who turned out to be a major draw for me to check out Lost, which started the year after The Return of the King was released.

(On a side note, I do want to explain my wholehearted embracing of this franchise in contrast with my dislike of the Harry Potter series. While both feature magic, however fantastical, Tolkien’s tales do not employ magic as a focus and ongoing interest for his characters, and they are set in an untouchable fantasy realm as opposed to a setting and time recognizably similar to our own. In some ways, it’s a fine line, but one that Rowling’s stories cross enough to warrant caution, to my mind. My opinions match those further expanded in this long article by film critic Steven Greydanus: http://www.decentfilms.com/articles/magic.)

The Lord of the Rings will forever stand as a landmark of cinema, especially impressive coming from an only mildly esteemed horror director like Peter Jackson, who certainly earned a name for himself. No other film can match the blend of utterly beautiful scenery, memorable music, realistic effects of every kind, Oscar-winning makeup, detailed armor and weaponry, brilliant ensemble acting, impressive artistry, unparalleled thrills, heart-wrenching pathos, and tear-worthy gratification. Some films rival or even surpass certain such aspects, but not all of them. All the awards won by the third film were undoubtedly meant for the trilogy as a whole, for no other director has shot a trilogy back to back like Jackson did, an achievement he repeated with The Hobbit and one that I don’t think is appreciated enough. George Lucas took three years between each of the Star Wars films, and James Cameron recently had to postpone his planned Avatar sequel trilogy because of the massive effort involved in shooting back-to-back films. It’s obviously harder than it seems. The Hobbit trilogy may not measure up to Jackson’s original achievement, but nothing really could. They are untouchable, masterpieces of fantasy to match their literary counterparts, despite certain alterations.

This film list of mine has been a long road, but its end is one worth revisiting again and again. I’m glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee, here at the end of this list.

Best lines from The Fellowship of the Ring: (Gandalf, catching Sam after talking with Frodo) “Confound it all, Samwise Gamgee. Have you been eavesdropping?”

(Sam) “I ain’t been droppin’ no eaves, sir, honest. I was just cutting the grass under the window there, if you’ll follow me.”

(Gandalf) “A little late for trimming the verge, don’t you think?”

(Sam) “I heard raised voices.”

(Gandalf) “What did you hear? Speak.”

(Sam) “N-nothing important. That is, I heard a good deal about a ring, and a Dark Lord, and something about the end of the world, but… please, Mr. Gandalf, sir, don’t hurt me. Don’t turn me into anything… unnatural.”    and

 

(Frodo) “I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.”   (Gandalf) “So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring. In which case, you were also meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought.”

 

Best lines from The Two Towers: (Treebeard) “I always like going south. Somehow, it feels like going downhill.”    and

 

(Sam) “Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.”   (Frodo) “What are we holding onto, Sam?”   (Sam) “That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo… and it’s worth fighting for.”

 

Best lines from The Return of the King: (Gimli, after Legolas’s oliphaunt takedown) “That still only counts as one!”    and

 

(Frodo, after the success of their quest) “I’m glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee, here at the end of all things.”

 

 

Rank: 60 out of 60

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

286 Followers and Counting

#2: Mr. Holland’s Opus (1995)

Tags

Drama, Meet 'em and Move on

Teacher of mine, do you doubt your own worth?

Are all of your years in your mind but a waste?

Passion in school is too rare to unearth

For you to consider your talent misplaced.

 

You started halfhearted, not giving your all,

Just placing the facts and the music before us,

But you adapted and heeded the call

And played to our interests to rouse and not bore us.

 

Class after class entered your music room,

Your hall venerating the eminent notes;

Students found counsel and guidance to bloom

And glee from the time a musician devotes.

 

Somehow you managed a family to raise,

Demanding, but higher for all of the lows.

Even to this day your influence stays,

As noble and grand as the works you compose.

 

Music meant more after your music class,

In ways at the time you and I could not guess.

Now hear your great masterpiece come to pass,

Listen to woodwinds, percussion, and brass,

And know that your impact is what they profess.

Mr. Holland, you are a success.

____________________

 

I doubt many people would share my #2 film. It didn’t generate much Oscar buzz, aside from a well-deserved Best Actor nomination for Richard Dreyfuss. It’s not The Godfather or Citizen Kane or Schindler’s List, but what it lacks in stylish camerawork or innovative storytelling, it makes up for in passion and the elevation of unsung heroes. In many cases, the film was my first introduction to certain music, like Beethoven and John Lennon, and it serves as a testament to the power and purpose of the arts in our lives.

Once again, Mr. Holland’s Opus, which is not about a comic strip penguin, is a “meet-‘em-and-move-on” film, but instead of the title teacher “moving on,” he stays put as decades of students pass under his tutelage. In many ways, it’s a combination of my previous two movies. Like Forrest Gump, it follows the triumphs and heartaches of one man through the 1960s, 70s, and beyond, employing archive footage and a well-chosen period soundtrack. Like It’s a Wonderful Life, it features a man whose restricting job comes before his preferred vocation and who, by the end, feels like a failure until an overwhelmingly supportive display of appreciation from his friends. As a fusion of these two stories and a familiar “good teacher” narrative, it becomes a musical journey of the most satisfying kind.

Richard Dreyfuss gives the best performance of his career as Glenn Holland, a composer dreaming of greatness until life gets in the way. He reminds us that teachers are humans like all of us; he deals with the difficulty of starting a marching band, the excitement of childbirth, the disappointment at learning his son is deaf, the unconscious distancing of said son due to said disappointment, and the constant struggle to keep people invested in the arts. Glenne Headley is lovely as his supportive wife Iris, who also feels the strain of having a handicapped child. Olympia Dukakis as Principal Jacobs, W. H. Macy as Vice Principal Wolters, and Jay Thomas as football coach and amateur dancer Bill Meister also give memorable performances, as well as Terrence Howard in his first significant film role as drum-wielding pupil Lou Russ.

The film is full of moments worthy of an admiring sigh. The subplot involving Mr. Holland’s temptation to run off with an aspiring young singer could have gone horribly wrong, yet the film eschews Hollywood risk-taking in favor of marital fidelity. Mr. Holland knows it’s no sin to be tempted but refuses to yield to unrealistic romantic notions. Likewise, his relationship with his deaf son is brilliantly grown over time. His bond with Cole remains undeveloped for the most part, taking a back seat to Glenn’s school and musical endeavors, until Cole himself snaps his father out of his tunnel vision, convincing him that a lack of hearing need not mean a lack of music. This builds to a rare instance of Richard Dreyfuss singing, in a heartfelt concert that makes parents hold their kids a little closer. John Lennon would be proud.

It’s a Wonderful Life always gets my dad wiping his eyes at key scenes, and I’ve told him that Mr. Holland’s Opus is my It’s a Wonderful Life. The ending, featuring Michael Kamen’s glorious “An American Symphony,” inevitably causes a profound joy and satisfaction to well up inside of me, with or without tears. As “meet-‘em-and-move-on” films go, this and The Five People You Meet in Heaven have the best reunion endings, the kind that acts as the culmination of a lifetime, as well as the film.

One more reason to love Mr. Holland’s Opus is that, except for two or three words, it is completely clean, making it a poignant music lesson for the entire family. Perhaps that’s why it didn’t receive more award attention, but I definitely think it deserved further accolades than one Oscar nomination. Even if no one else ranks it as high as I do, Mr. Holland’s Opus is definitely worthy of my #2 spot.

Best line (which sums up this “meet-‘em-and-move-on”): (adult Gertrude Lang) “Look around you. There is not a life in this room that you have not touched, and each one of us is a better person because of you. We are your symphony, Mr. Holland. We are the melodies and the notes of your opus, and we are the music of your life.”

 

Rank: 60 out of 60

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

285 Followers and Counting

#3: Forrest Gump (1994)

Tags

Comedy, Drama, History, Meet 'em and Move on, Romance

His name is Forrest, Forrest Gump,

And he has quite a tale to tell,

A decade-spanning epic life

That no one else could tell as well.

 

Although he never has been smart,

His mother told him from his youth

That he could still do anything,

Which he took as God’s honest truth.

 

He didn’t have too many friends,

Just lovely Jenny by his side.

He loved her dearly from the start,

But college kept her occupied.

 

Their paths diverged as Forrest Gump

Enlisted in the Army corps

And told his girl he soon would go

To Vietnam to fight a war.

 

His heroism rescued lives,

Including his Lieutenant Dan.

As Forrest met with Ping-Pong fame,

His friend was left as half a man.

 

When Army life was done with him,

Gump bought himself a shrimping boat

To celebrate a fallen friend

Whose life to shrimp he would devote.

 

Assisted by Lieutenant Dan,

He built himself a shrimp empire,

But a loss returned him home

To Alabama to retire.

 

Beloved Jenny’s wayward path

Of drugs, abuse, and love thought free

At last brings her to Forrest’s house

To milk his hospitality.

 

A lengthy run across the land

Brings fame to Forrest once again,

But what more strongly speeds his step

Is Jenny’s now inviting pen.

 

Though soon he loses one he loves,

He gains another suddenly,

For Forrest Gump is talented

At drifting to his destiny.

________________

 

While not the first, Robert Zemeckis’s Forrest Gump is the greatest example of the “meet-‘em-and-move-on” film, following one character throughout his life as he touches and is touched by countless others, often in ways he doesn’t even comprehend. In this case, it’s set against the backdrop of late 20^th-century America, and even if Forrest doesn’t fathom the influence of his adventures, we the audience do, laughing, crying, and remembering along the way.

Tom Hanks most definitely deserved his Best Actor Academy Award for his simple yet profound portrayal of Forrest, Forrest Gump. Rather than being some caricature of the mentally handicapped, his folksy candor creates a memorable paragon of innocent observation. His unbiased impressions of some painfully turbulent years in US history act as a neutral lens through which we can view events like the Vietnam War, the Watergate scandal, and the hippie movement without any potentially alienating political opinions. They just were, and Forrest was there. It’s a simple idea, but much care and effort were made in pulling it off successfully. The Oscar-winning effects team placed Forrest into archive footage, allowing him to seamlessly interact with Presidents and celebrities. Yet through all of his adventures, he remains the same lovable mama’s boy, harboring (as the writer Eric Roth has stated) an unshakeable faith in only three things: God, his wise mother (Sally Field), and his sweetheart Jenny (Robin Wright). It’s funny, though, that Field plays Hanks’s mother here when she played his love interest in Punchline just six years earlier.

Jenny chooses the opposite approach of Forrest’s clean-cut journey through the decades. Whereas his homespun values preserve Forrest unsullied for the most part, in the world but not of the world, Jenny embraces the sex, drugs, and destructive lifestyle that captured so many in the 1960s, all the while keeping her would-be suitor at a distance. Her “spoiled goods” mentality is frustrating because of her own foolish choices, and tragic because of Forrest’s unrequited love for her, at least until the end. Forrest Gump is a prime example of how an opinion can make a 360 over time; my VC disliked the film’s ending at first, mainly due to how Jenny used Forrest’s affection for her to sneak a one-night stand and then did not contact him again until she was dying. Over time, she’s come to love the film as much as I do and to recognize more authenticity in Jenny’s deathbed declaration of love. As disheartening as their degrading lifestyles became, the eventual turnaround for Jenny and for Lieutenant Dan (a fantastic Gary Sinise) is what provides the satisfying, tear-worthy conclusion that “meet-‘em-and-move-on” films do so well. (By the way, did anyone else notice that Jenny’s abusive boyfriend in Washington, D.C., was named Wesley? Robin Wright must love that name.)

Despite the language and some sexual awakenings for Forrest, the film is a redemptive and unforgettable odyssey in which the good and decent are proven more prosperous than the edgy and bitter. The soundtrack is one of the best, providing pitch-perfect musical accompaniment for every decade Forrest encounters (the Doors are well represented), and the three-year running sequence features a spectacular blend of rocking road anthems and stunning cinematography. The quirky narration is one of my favorite elements, with sentences often being repeated by an actor right after they’ve been spoken. Sometimes narration is an unnecessary distraction, but for “meet-‘em-and-move-on” films, it often strengthens the effect of the story, as with Life of Pi and The Shawshank Redemption. Many people doubtless consider Shawshank a better film, which was overshadowed by the popularity of Tom Hanks’ best role in 1994, but though Shawshank is more mature in tone and subject, and I still love it, Forrest Gump holds a greater variety of incident, special effects, and storytelling and is just more appealing in general. It’s a special film that some may dismiss as glossing over history, but I find more reasons to love it on every viewing. (Did you notice that Forrest’s eyes are closed in every picture he takes? I didn’t till this latest time.)

Best line (a less obvious one):  (Bubba) “Anyway, like I was sayin’, shrimp is the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, sauté it. Dey’s uh, shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There’s pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That- that’s about it.”

 

Rank: 60 out of 60

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

284 Followers and Counting